#and fall in love with someone and have a boring normal happily ever after. | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

daddy-issues-subscriber3 · 2 months ago

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Warning....NSFW material ahead. By reading this, you certify that you are not a minor and legally an adult. (18 years of age or older), and consent to viewing adult-themed material on your own accord . All characters depicted herein are fictional adults aged 18 years and older. An Original writing by Kiddmandu.

Life Is A Beach

(TW:: Girl/Girl, Bisexual curiosity, First time, Online lovers, Oral, Toys,)

“Hey we should have a girls weekend? It would be so much fun to meet you. Is that something you might be interested in?” Jackie typed in a text. Her index fingertip hovered nervously over the ‘send’ button.

Jackie knew she was treading into dangerous territory. She knew she was going out on a limb. Was she perhaps being too brazen? Yes, she may have wanted to meet Diane very much, but she didn't want to scare her away either. After all, Diane was straight, but she also knew that Jackie was NOT. Even though Diane has expressed a slight bisexual curiosity during many of their online chats, Jackie was afraid she might be overplaying her hand by suggesting they should meet.

Feeling that if their new found friendship was strong enough,and it seemed as though it was, it would… or Should, withstand her brazen request. Jackie clicked <SEND>. Let the chips fall where they may.

Recently, well in the past few months, Jackie and Diane had met online in an over 40s chatroom. Instantly, becoming fast friends. Coming from two very different worlds, a blossoming friendship between the two would have normally seemed unlikely, however the more they chatted, the more their friendship bloomed. Finding out that they in fact, had lots in common and similar viewpoints on things like current events, politics and entertainment.

Jackie, a curvaceous brunette, in her early 40s, and fresh off her second divorce was an outgoing and free-spirited woman that liked to drink and party. Her two kids, now grown, and away at college now, Jackie was lonely and not liking the ‘empty nest’ lifestyle. It was boring, far too quiet …and well…also very lonely. She was looking for something… or someone to occupy her time. Recently, Jackie had come to the conclusion that she was ready to explore the possibilities of a new relationship. Being bisexual, she was pretty sure that she was done with men, but was becoming more and more comfortable with the idea of exploring what life would be like having a sexual relationship with a woman. For all things phallic, Jackie had toys to please herself, and better yet, toys didn't come with all of the headaches that were usually associated with MEN. In her past, Jackie had lots of trysts with women, but she thought it might be time to give a woman a serious effort.

Diane, was just the opposite. Quiet, reserved, a slender strawberry blonde, in her early 50s, happily married and also a mom of a son that was currently building his own family. Seemingly, Diane had all her bases covered. A successful career as an interior designer, a healthy Marriage and Family, and a beautiful home in the Orlando suburbs. However, in recent years she felt a growing void within herself. A nagging feeling in her soul. Something.. was …missing. She couldn't place what it was, but it was a definite…something.

Perhaps it was Jackie.

“Goodness gracious, i would love that Jackie. It sounds like so much fun. I desperately need to get away. But…What would I ever tell Bill?” Diane typed back in response to Jackie's text in an attempt up explain that her husband would feel ambivalent about her going on a weekend getaway. “He would never understand me meeting someone from the Internet. He would think I was cheating?”

“Could you tell him that it is just a girls weekend. I mean, in all honesty that's really what it would be. You. Me. We're girls. Unless there's something you're not telling me. LOL ” Jackie replied.

“That would probably work. Depending on the destination. Where would we be going? Would we meet somewhere between Rhode Island and Florida?”

“I will totally come to you.” Jackie stated. “We can talk about the where's and the when’s later. In the meantime run it by Bill and see what he says.” Jackie typed excitedly. Happy that her idea was well received and showed promise of it maybe being possible. “Going to bed. Let's make this happen Di. Goodnight Hun.” Jackie responded.

“Night Night Jackie” Diane typed back.

Over the next few days, Jackie and Diane started throwing out ideas and began to orchestrate their meeting. The more they talked about it, the more excited they became. New York City was discussed. So was Atlantic City. It was only after much deliberation, that it was finally decided that their getaway destination would be a bed and breakfast on Cape Cod sometime in June. It was still just February, and in the home stretch of winter, but Diane still had to get the ok from her husband Bill before they could place the reservations.

A few nights later Jackie's phone rang. It was Diane. “Hey it's me, guess what?” Diane said.

“What ?” Jackie responded she could hear the excitement in Diane's voice.

“We can book the trip…Bill said yes”

“Oh my God. Seriously? What? How?” Jackie questioned.

“He asked me if he could go on a golfing trip with his buddies to Myrtle Beach and I told him, Yes, he could go if I could go on a girl's weekend? And he said I could absolutely Go” Diane responded quickly.

“Hooorayyyy” Jackie cheered. “Girlfriend? We are going to have so much fun. I'll book the room tomorrow”.

“I'm so excited” Diane replied.

Over the next few months, the two friends grew even closer. Through texting and chatting on the telephone, the bonds of their friendship strengthened. Gradually, but surely, they became Besties. Confessing secrets, that you only tell your best friend. Revealing things about themselves, intimate things that you don't just tell anyone. Talking about past sexual experiences, fantasies, kinky fetishes, and things they've always wanted to try but never had the chance to. Such as Diane admitting that she has always had a secret desire to experience a woman.

This was music to Jackie's ears, who in turn encouraged Diane that she should try it sometime. Jackie would tell her stories of her past experiences with women and that would only prove to make Diane even more curious. Before long, the curiosity spark grew into a flame and then to an inferno that began to consume Diane. She began to look at women on the street differently, checking them out as they walked past. Her tastes in erotica and pornography changed. Suddenly, Diane was reading hot stories about lesbian sex and watching girl on girl pornography. Even Touching herself while fantasizing that it was a woman's fingers that were bringing her pleasure.

Diane certainly was brimming with a newfound bisexual energy and she was excited for what was to maybe happen in the future, but there was one thing that was confusing her. Something she never expected. A growing infatuation and attraction…to Jackie of all people. She kept this attraction to herself, refraining from telling her best friend about it. Diane was not just conflicted because she was taken by lust, but she also felt like maybe she was falling in love with her close friend.

Months and seasons passed. Winter, became spring, and spring bled into summer. The girl's weekend was approaching and Both Jackie and Diane were jumping out of their skin with excitement. Not only to meet and hang out, but both were now harboring wishes of a possible incredible sexual experience with the other. Their conversation now were laced with lots of flirty comments and sexual innuendo which made for many great late night chats.

“Three days away” Diane said as Jackie answered the phone.

“I know. I can't wait. I am so excited to actually meet you.” Jackie replied.

“I'm excited too. Also a little nervous.” Diane admitted.

Jackie was confused. “ Why are you nervous Di ?”

In a rush of emotions Diane blurted out, “I dunno. I just hope you like me” but upon hearing the words leave her lips she immediately regretted saying it.

“What's that?” Jackie asked.

‘Um…nothing nevermind” Diane replied.

The next three days were the longest days ever, but traveling day finally came. Jackie flew into Boston from Florida, rented a car at the airport, and set out for the drive to the Cape. Her excitement was barely containable. Diane drove up to Cape Cod from her home in Providence, Rhode island. The whole drive she played scenarios in her head of what it would be like to kiss Jackie, to touch Jackie, to make love to Jackie. Her excitement was to epidemic levels. So much so, Bill became more and more of an afterthought. She was a good girl. Would have never normally even thought about being unfaithful to her husband, but something about Jackie excited her so much that she would rather live with the shame of cheating, than miss out on a dream come true opportunity. Yes, if the possibility arose, she absolutely would cheat. Hopefully God, and her conscience, would understand.

Diane arrived first to the rental office. She grabbed the keys And signed the rental agreement and then made her way across town to the actual rental property. It was a modest, yet quaint, ranch house that sat directly across the street from the beach, with a wonderful view of the ocean from the living room window. Maybe it was the smell of the ocean, the chirping seagulls, the quiet of the beach side town, but she could feel herself decompressing as soon as she stepped over the threshold. If Anything at all, it would at least be a relaxing weekend.

Jackie arrived not long thereafter. Diane, who was unpacking her clothes, heard the sound of tires on the gravel driveway and all but ran from the bedroom. With a quick look into the mirror to make sure her hair looked ok, she went to the front door to greet her friend. She did her best to compose herself and not appear like a horny teenager on prom night, but in reality she was like a kid on Christmas morning and no amount of composure was going to conceal that.

“Hey Girlllllllll!” Diane shouted from the doorway.

“Hey you!” Jackie shouted back with a huge smile as she retrieved her suitcase from the back seat and headed towards the house.

The two friends stared at each other as Jackie walked up the driveway. Both sizing up the other. Looking one another up and down and incidentally, both liking what they saw very much. This was real. No more chat boxes, or text messages, or video chats. This was actual. The real world. Flesh and blood. The exhilaration was building at a record rate.

Diane broke first, she let out a long squeal and ran down the steps to Jackie. Jackie in turn dropped her suitcase and ran to Diane. Their bodies collided like a football tackle ending in a long awaited embrace. An embrace that had been a long time coming. Too long for each of them. It was a warm friendly embrace that neither of the ladies wanted to be the first one to break.

“Oh it's so good to see you” Diane said squeezing Jackie.

“Oh my God I know. And look how pretty you look.” Jackie responded before reaching up and stroking the hair from Diane's eyes. “I love your hair. You look so much prettier in person”

Diane's smile dropped quickly with Jackie's comment. “In person? Why? Did I look ugly on video?”

Jackie scoffed, realizing what she had just said had been taken the wrong way. “Oh my God no. On chat you are always pretty, but in person you are like.. stunning. Like WOW”

Diane felt her heart flutter and her cheeks flush with Jackie's compliment. She even experienced a slight tingle in her lady parts when Jackie reached up and stroked her cheek with the back of one finger.

“Let's get you unpacked, and then we can relax.” Diane suggested.

“Can we maybe grab something to eat. I'm fuckin starving. We have all weekend to relax.” Jackie stated matter of factly.

“Omg me too. YES, Let's do that” Diane agreed.

They googled restaurants in the area, and decided on a touristy Seafood Restaurant named Mel’s. The kind that give you the complimentary plastic bib when you are seated. They had a nice meal of lobster and clams and ordered drinks. There was no awkwardness at all. Yes, they had just met, but their chemistry in person was undeniable. It was as comfortable as two lifelong friends having dinner together. The conversation flowed as easy as the drinks went down. After several drinks Diane admitted to starting to feel tipsy and suggested that she shouldn't order another drink because she was driving.

“I stopped and picked up some chips and a few bottles of wine. You said you liked Merlot right Di ? Jackie asked.

“Yes, that is all I drink when I have wine,... and aren't you thoughtful” Diane beamed

“I also stopped and got some weed at a dispensary near the airport”.

"I haven't smoked weed since college but I'm game” Diane said feeling a bit adventurous.

Already naughty thoughts were formulating in Jackie's mind. Sexy images of what she hoped the night ahead would behold drifted through her mind. Already she could feel her pussy getting wet and her panties dampening. “Let's go back to the house where we can relax and have some fun.” Jackie suggested.

The words “have some fun” echoed in Diane's head and she could not agree fast enough. She knew what kind of “fun” she wanted to have. They paid the bill and headed back to the house.

Once back at the house, Jackie suggested they try out the hot tub? That idea sounded great to Diane. They changed into their swimsuits, poured some wine and slowly submerged themselves into the bubbling tub. The water so warm. So soothing. Peaceful and relaxing. They talked about life, love, and all of the things that mattered to them. Passions. Preferences. Naturally, as things tend to go, the more wine they drank the more naughtier their conversations became.

That's when the elephant in the room was addressed. Jackie, being brazen as always, was the one to bring it up. “So you've really never been with a woman before Di?”

Diane, who had just taking a sip of wine nearly choked with surprise. “No, but now I kinda wanna. I'm very curious. Always have been I guess.” she responded as her cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“How come you never explored it?” Jackie prodded.

“Never really had the opportunity to.”

“Do you like to have your pussy eaten?” Jackie was pushing her brazen nature to it's limits.

“Wel..um…yeah…but Bill doesn't really like…” Diane stammered over her words. She wasn't sure how to answer Jackie's question. Of course she loved oral sex but her husband Bill didn't really care for it, so she didn't get to have it often. If she wanted it, she had to ask for it and due to her timid nature, she never would. So she went without. “It's been so long since I have had it done to me.”

“Well you know women eat pussy so much better than men, right?” Jackie said proudly. Almost as if she was getting a kick back from the Lesbian Society of America for every straight woman she converted or recruited.

“No, I didn't know that.” Diane repilied shyly, but already thoughts of having her pussy devoured by Jackie had begun to creep into her mind. She could feel her nipples stiffening.

“Girl you haven't had your pussy eaten, until it's been eaten by a woman that loves to eat pussy” Jackie said as she slid a bit closer.

Maybe it was the wine, or the hot temperature of the water, possibly the sex talk and her own arousal, but Dianes head was swooning. She struggled to focus on what was happening. “I…um…would like..that..I think.” Diane managed to get out.

That was all Jackie needed to hear.

“What are we doing? We are all alone, why are we still in our swimsuits?” Jackie questioned as she stood up and lowered the straps of her one piece swimsuit and in one motion dragged it down her body and off. She stood before her friend now completely naked. Her large firm breasts hanging freely. The hot tub water was just low enough to not obscure the tuft of neatly trimmed, brown pubic hair.

Diane's eyes grew wide with shock, but also enthrallment. Jackie's naked body looked incredible. Curvaceous in all the right places. She looked bodacious and beautiful. She wanted Jackie in the worst way. And she wanted her now. Diane began to untie her bikini top.

“Here let me help you” Jackie smiled, leaning down her breasts swinging inches from Diane's face. Jackie's nipples, pink, full, and hard merely inches from Diane's lips.

It was too tempting. Too much. Diane reached out and took Jackie's breast and lifted it to her face. She lowered her head and took the nipple into her mouth and began to suck it gently.

“Ahhhh there you go Diane. Good girl” Jackie moaned softly as she finished untying Diane's top and removed it. Jackie gasped at the first sight of Diane's perfectly shaped breasts. “You have gorgeous titties Diane.

The words “good girl” excited the submissive Diane, who heard them, but didn't respond as she was hyper-focused on sucking Jackie's nipple. It wasnt until Jackie's hand found her breasts and began to massage that Diane responded with a low soft moan.

The ball was rolling to the pleasure of both Women. They had been fast friends, then besties, but now they were to be lovers. Jackie took Diane's face in her hands and stared into her eyes. Languishing in her stare for a moment and then went in for the first kiss. A soft tender kiss on the lips at first, but Diane immediately opened her mouth and invaded Jackie with her tongue. Diane reached up and wrapped her arms around Jackie and pulled her body down on top of her. Diane kissed Jackie like her life depended on it. Her tongue slowly, yet passionately rolling around her friends in a sexy tongue tango. The kiss was magical and lasted for a long time but that was ok because it was only Friday night and they had all weekend.

The kissing intensified. Tongues clashing. Hands began to explore. Legs opened and thighs parted to grant access. Before long Jackie and Diane were making out and fingering each other rigorously. Their hands and fingers working quickly beneath the bubbling top water of the hot tub. Moans and groans filled the room. Diane's mind was blowing. This was the first time she had ever had a woman's fingers inside of her and she was loving it. This was the first time HER fingers were inside of someone else, and she loved that too. This was amazing and felt so…right.

Jackie broke the kiss first and reached and pulled Diane's fingers out of her. This confused Diane. Was she not doing it right? Was it not pleasurable for Jackie? It wasn't until Jackie raised her hand up to her lips did she understand what she was doing. Jackie forced Diane's fingers into her mouth so that she could taste Jackie's pussy. Diane greedily sucked them into her mouth. Diane had tasted herself during masturbation but this was her first taste of another woman. It enthralled her. It excited her even more when Jackie leaned over and kissed Diane so that she could taste too. This was getting kinky and got Diane feeling insatiable. Even Feral. Her pussy ached and craved all the good things the night had in store.

It was at that moment that Jackie pulled back and stared at Diane. “Di, remember what I told you about women that like to eat pussy?” She asked.

“Mmm Hmmm” Diane admitted with a sly smile.

“Di?” Jackie started as she lifted Diane up to a standing position, “I am one of THOSE women” Jackie smiled and grabbed Diane's bikini bottoms and slid them down her legs. Immediately Jackie lowered her head into Diane and began to gently lick at Diane's freshly shaven vagina. Slowly, and deliberately dragging her tongue up and down Diane's silky smooth lips. Pushing gently inside. Toying and probing softly at her clit.

It was at that point Diane's knees fluttered and went weak. Diane stumbled and almost fell, but Jackie caught her and sat her down upon the edge of the tub. No words were exchanged, only a look. A look that continued as Jackie parted Diane's legs, slid a finger inside of her friend, and began to eat her pussy with much more intensity than previously. Dianes pussy was very slick and slippery which let Jackie know just how excited Diane really was. Immediately, Jackie sought out Diane's hardened clit and sucked it gently. Holding it between her lips while she tickled it with just the tip of her tongue. She had wanted this for so long now and it was finally happening.

Pleasure raced through Diane's entire body. She dared not speak,afraid for what she might blurt out. However Diane did let out soft gasps and moans. Even a whimper or two. She was thoroughly enjoying the pleasures of Jackie's tongue and it's vigorous licking. It was all she dreamed it would be. Even more.

Jackie swapped her tongue and finger. Her finger went to work on her clit. Spinning it and pressing down on it. While her tongue slithered into Dianes hot, wet, fuck hole. Jackie plunged her tongue inside of her besties pussy and devoured it. Diane's pussy was delicious and tasted so sweet. She proceeded to fuck Diane with her tongue. Sliding it in and out of her pussy and even teasing her ass with it before returning back to her delicious cunt.

An intense feeling of pleasure, which had been gradually but steadily building within her, had finally reached the tipping point for Diane and the first of many orgasms to come crashed down upon her. She came hard, and so violently, that not only her body spasmed and twitched but she sprayed and gushed all of her juices all over Jackie's face and tongue. However, Jackie didn't mind in the least. In fact, sheenjoyed every second of it and loved being drenched in Diane's cum. She rubbed her face all over Diane's pussy to coat her face in it.

In the seconds after her orgasm subsided, Diane collected herself. Still trying to catch her breath, she always able to utter the words….”You really do…love eating pussy… Jackie.” To which Jackie busted out laughing.

“You think you like that? Come into the bedroom. I have something else to show you”. Jackie beamed and took Diane by the hand leading her to bed.

In the bedroom, Jackie took Diane's naked body into her arms and began to kiss her. Holding each other tightly and kissing passionately, both women didn't know it then but this was the start of a torrid love affair that would last for years to come. More on that later...

Jackie laid Diane down on the bed. Standing over her she admired her lovers body. Long and lithe, the curve of her breasts and hips, her miliky white skin, It only took a minute but Jackie surveyed every nook and cranny. An utter look of lust fell across Jackie's face.

“I have something for you Diane. I'll be right back” and with that Jackie grabbed a bag and went into the master bathroom.

Again, Diane was confused, but she was far too turned on to even give it a thought. Instead, she lay upon the bed and let her hands caress her breasts. Pinching her own nipples. Reaching down and rubbing her own clit. God it felt so good. Diane couldn't remember a time in her entire life that she ever felt so needy. So wanting. So, well ..slutty.

Jackie called from the bathroom “Diane?”

“Yes, Jackie” Diane panted in response.

“I brought something with me. Something I think you will enjoy. Don't freak out ok?” Jackie said as she turned the corner of the doorway. Standing there in all of her naked splendor was Jackie wearing waist harness with a strap on dildo….

…And a huge smile.

“Omg yes” Diane squealed with delight. "Come here Jackie. Fuck me baby. I neeeeeed that cock!”

Jackie obliged Dianes wishes and moved to the bed. Stepping between Diane's parted legs, she teased Diane's pussy lips with just the tip of the strap on. She stared into Diane's eyes as she sank the rubber cock into her.

Diane gasped sharply, and whimpered pitifully as the cock pierced into her. It was much bigger than Bill. Or any guy she had been with, for that matter.

Jackie slid in slow. Letting Diane get used to it. She watched as Diane's wet, needy cunt stretched around the rubber dong. Molding around it. It was so sexy to watch. It excited Jackie. As Jackie began to thrust, timid and shy Diane became a trashy, naughty cock-crazed whore.Talking filthy and barking orders to her friend and lover.

“Fuck me harder Jackie!! Oh God your cock feels so good in my cunt. Fuck me!! Pound me baby!!!” Diane shouted. Spurring Jackie to fuck her harder. Faster.

Diane's pussy was so wet and sloppy, as the dildo slid in and out of her, Diane's pussy made a sloshing sound like someone sliding feet into wet galoshes filled with applesauce.

Jackie fucked her this way for a bit, before flipping Diane's body over onto her tummy and pulling her hips upward. “Face down, ass up!!” Jackie giggled

"That's the way I wanna get fucked!!” Diane giggled back.

Jackie entered her hard. Reaming all the way in on her first thrust. Diane screamed in pleasure and pain. “Oh my God !” Jackie continued to thrust. Building in intensity. Fucking her hard, fast, and deeper than before. The sounds of their bodies slapping together filled the bedroom. Diane reached back and rubbed her clit quickly as she took every thrust of Jackie's pounding. Her orgasm was building and cresting rapidly. It wouldnt be long before she would succumb to another orgasm. “Yes, yes, yes, Just like that. Don't fucking stop Jackie!!”

Jackie continued hammering away at her friend's feral pussy and within seconds Diane's whole body tensed up like a sudden bout of rigor mortis. Followed by a violent convulsing. “Im cummmmmmmmmmming” Diane squealed and screamed. Her orgasm seemed to last forever and Jackie kept fucking away to give her lover the best possible climax she could. It was exhilarating for both of them.

When it was over, Diane fell forward. Spent and exhausted from the grade A fucking she had just received, and the ensuing orgasm that followed.

Jackie curled up on the bed next to Diane and kissed her sweetly while stroking her hair. Diane drifted off to the most peaceful sleep she had in years.

This was just Friday Night. The girls had many more sexual adventures exploring each other's kinks and fetishes, discovery new ones, and trying all kinds of things, during the remainder of their Girls weekend.

And the next girl's weekend....

And the one after that…

And all of the ones for years to come...

Another original erotica story by

Daddy-issues-subscriber3

(Aka Kiddmandu)

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ariel-seagull-wings · 5 months ago

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ROMANCE

(Anyone who starts a story with ‘Once Upon a Time’ should end it with ‘Happily Ever After’. The return of Carly's First Person Narration.)

We got married.

When he proposed to me, I suggested we eloped. I waited so long to be together with Hank, that I felt that the moment he asked for my hand, I would say that I wanted to elope.

We may have a traditional wedding ceremony and reception in a vow renewal in the future, but I just wanted to focus in getting married and going to live with him.

Hank and I grew up with different aspirations and conceptions about love and romance:

I was raised in an enviroment that was considered “normal” by societal standards, so I considered the concept of ‘Normalcy’ to be overrated: I wanted to fall in love like in a myth, a fairy tale, an epic fantasy novel, where all emotions are intense, their display a melodrama, every activity is an exciting adventure, the lover is someone more than human, and all words come off poetically of our minds in the conversations.

Growing up seen as an “other”, constantly fighting to survive, what was presented to me as ‘Normalcy’ was a luxury to Hank, and having the choice denied to it, he saw the little things I considered overrated, a House, a Yard, Picnics on Sunday Afternoons... as the greatest aspirations.

He wanted to fall in love like in a sitcom, an Austean novel of manners, or a Shakespearean comedy: building the ties trough everyday living together and knowing the other outside of the context of a date, cleaning the bathroom, doing laundry, paying bills and taxes, eating TV dinners or boxes of chinese take out while watching television.

Like how Audrey sang in Little Shop of Horrors:

“Somewhere that’s green...”

Some would say that these different conceptions of love would make us incompatible. I say on the contrary.

I love how he brings the Fairy Tale and excitement of melodrama into my everyday life while showing me a new apreciation for the ‘Normal’ things I found boring...

He loves the experience I bring from my life as an everyday human, and learns to see himself trough my eyes, and apreciate being strange as a virtue.

(Happy Valentine's Day!)

@themousefromfantasyland @the-blue-fairie @maedelin @rei-ismyname

#x men #x men the animated series #x men 97 #hank mccoy #beast #mutants

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violetjedisylveon · 16 days ago

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I support talented skillfull yet obsesive Ling Li so bad

Like that dude been around 200 years and gain so many skill in life not to mention being a freaking BADASS by actually being the person who can kill the biggest cracken and a 5-Star cheff of the most EXPENSIVE exotic restaurant.

I dont think he scare about LBD having a cult if he can actually kill a cracken. Like if anything he would only focus on Wukong. And fuck he would actually steal Wukong from lbd and if he HAVE to and kill member of the cult. He is RICH RICH he CAN have his way like paying killers to help him destroy the cult that even dare go after him. OR himself would just deal with it. LUCKY he just want Wukong.

And other skill of maybe making a anti-serum for EATING siren and other creture. Which his anti-serum gain thousands of millions because how rare it is for someone to study mythology of sea creture.

A super smart dude who study marine life not only mythical creature but also normal rare sea creature. Making his way of having the highest name ever in study. That dude basicly have phD in marine life study and could have the tittle "Dr" (okay this little different for country but for my contry someone who have phD deserve to be call Dr. tittle as praise)

I want to add he know robotic other than marrine biology. He made that robotic arms HIMSELF. And it full of funtion from killing, cooking, crafting, or just everyday task. He made his own water suit so he can be in deep water with no problem. He made all his weapon for hunting!! I imagine him having personaliti close to JINX from Arcane!! Crazy smart inventer type of guy✨

That man have it all. Skill, money, fame. YET everything he will be trow away just for Wukong

Honestly slay. Gotta make sure you good before being with someone so you can spoiled them. Giving everything that one person deserve.

Maybe in another life Wukong and Ling Li actually be togather and live happily ever after IF Wukong ever give him a chance😭 because damn they intresting doom or not.

Anyway Ling Li my fav❤️ He is sure tragic character in his own different way. That make him uniques for other character. He IS good character with a lot of good characteristic yet victim of obsession. He dont need to have sad back story like losing parent or being abuse. He simply a guy that fall in love with someone he shouldn't love. And then he HIMSELF poison his self for that love. Funny how it start as random dude who gonna die in most cartoony way as it mention by other anon. And now he is intresting character.

GoldenBlood my beloved 💕 sorry Shadowpeach you always good but it's getting boring because it the same as your other au.

(No hate for them. Im rooting for them to be end game. I love them in this au too! And no I dont want Ling Li and Wukong to end up together. I just want to say Wukong and Ling Li Situasionship is freaking intresting ❤️)

Oh and btw do you any reference of how Ling Li might look? Or else I just imagine him as male version of JINX heh which Im not complaining if he is!

Sorry for the long wait, I was at a con over the weekend, I met Jodi Benson, aka og voice of Ariel the little mermaid, she was super nice and sweet even though we were talking to her a bit early, my dad was a vendor at the show so we got in early. And all the Hazbin hotel voice actors were there, like all of them, and two from the digital circus. And the Dare Devil cast was there, I nearly got lost in that sea of people looking for one guy(he was in an entirely different building). And Mathew Lillard was there too! It was a lot of fun but I'm so tired after it all 😅

Onto business!

I don't think Ling Li and LBD's goals align, her goal is the death of all sirens, and that is bad for his business.

He knows unregulated hunting would be bad, he probably saw what happened to whales, so he's actually also responsible for the existing legislation around siren hunting that ensures they don't get over hunted.

Most of that being if you catch any siren under a certain age, you have to let it go. It's all to make sure the business is sustainable and doesn't run out of sirens.

He does have a PhD in marine biology, he was working at an aquarium as a marine biologist at the time he met Wukong. He probably has an unofficial one in robotics cause he sure as hell didn't go back to school for that. Just whipped up a whole new arm.

He really does have it all, but all he wants is Wukong. His family (his siblings descendants) makes a lot of Moby Dick jokes. They think it's a little weird but that's just uncle Li, ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

He also probably did make an anti venom for the sirens that have venom, and antidotes for the poison.

Him and Wukong's situationship is very fun and interesting to play with, it's like the bits of salt onto of salted caramels, murder-y, yandere-ish salt.

I have no reference for how he'll look, he's a half Chinese, half Japanese 50 year old looking man, so I don't think Jinx is a very accurate comparison, but feel free to keep thinking of him like that.

Thanks for asking!

Siren Wukong AU Masterpost

#lego monkie kid #lmk #Siren Wukong AU #siren au #lmk oc #lmk oc x canon #lmk oc lore #GoldenBlood #lmk au #VJS AU:P #VJS Answers:P #VJS

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bronanlynch · 2 months ago

Note

also locktie as a ship and either hathaway or char as a character, whoever you talk about less in the fandom ask lol

002 | send me a ship and I will tell you:

when or if I started shipping it: yes obviously. I think the first time I was like Oh They're In Love was that bit uhh around two thirds/three quarters of the way through season 1 when they're back on the ship after being on earth and someone (iirc sumeragi?) is like. wow tieria you seem so ~happy and ~relaxed, what happened down on earth? and tieria gives this really soft sappy smile

my thoughts: I just think they're neat! and also basically canon! and in love! love to think abt them figuring out how to have free will and making their own future together. also love to think abt them getting married and lockon having to explain how they met to his extended family of like. presumably catholic old ladies

What makes me happy about them: I like it when tieria is happy and supported :') and I like how well they work together in battle/on missions, love a good competent battle couple

What makes me sad about them: I mean. obvious answer. lockon dying and being replaced by his identical twin. lmao

Things done in fanfic that annoys me: cis man tieria. or transmasc tieria. which as you can imagine makes it difficult to find fic lol

Things I look for in fanfic: transfem tieria, lockon surviving with his canon disability

My kinks: the way this is phrased is so funny to me like I get what's being asked but also I think that my kinks are irrelevant here, this is abt them. anyway. I think that they're genuinely pretty vanilla. not in a boring hetpilled "missionary every day and literally nothing else ever" kind of way but in a way that's like, neither of them have much (or, in tieria's case, any) experience prior to each other, and lockon feels So strongly abt wanting to be careful and gentle and respectful with her (which she feels very normal abt, obviously, both bc she doesn't think of herself as a human person, and also for gender reasons) (however I do also think that lockon likes it when she's a little bit mean and bossy and condescending. as a treat) (also also I think once they've been dating for a while they could get into like. seducing someone for the mission roleplay. they meet up at a bar and pretend to be flirting with each other to get intel)

Who I’d be comfortable them ending up with, if not each other: this is like. one of the only ships I'm a monoshipper for lmao I think that lockon could be perfectly happy dating someone else in a hypothetical timeline where he doesn't fall in love with tieria but I can't see that happening with anyone we see him interact with in canon, and tieria opens up for so few people that I kinda think lockon is it for her. my answers for this feel like they don't reflect my usual ship opinions but sometimes a couple really is monogamous and vanilla

My happily ever after for them: what if lockon survived. have we ever considered this. what if lockon survived and he and tieria realized that they

003 | Give me a character & I will tell you

talked abt char more in the other answer bc char is the most important character in gundam so. hathaway time

How I feel about this character: well. I had a tab with this art open yesterday that I saw accidentally when I closed some tabs of references for my essay and made a noise of anguish out loud so. there's that (I love him and he is so so so important to my understanding of uc gundam, best ever to do it, etc etc)

All the people I ship romantically with this character: kenneth, gigi, quess (in an au where she survives and he still gets radicalized and comes around to understanding her perspective), lane aim but it's entirely one-sided from lane aim's side (imagining a version where the timeline is extended so their ~rivalry lasts for longer by which I mean. lane thinks of hathaway as his rival and hathaway Does Not, lane becomes obsessed with defeating him in a homoerotic way and hathaway is like. you're just some guy to me and also you're just a cog in the war machine and not my actual enemy but I will kill you if you keep getting in my way and I won't even feel partially intense or homoerotic abt it. and this makes lane aim So mad and he can't even complain to kenneth abt it bc kenneth is Even More obsessed w hathaway than he is, and also kenneth is the one that hathaway actually sees as a rival. rip lane aim)

My non-romantic OTP for this character: going to interpret this as just. fave platonic (or familial) relationship so that I can talk abt how much I wish we got to see more of cheimin and how she feels abt anything that happens with hathaway, I have a normal amount of feelings abt cheimin having extremely complicated mixed feelings abt her dead estranged brother that she hasn't seen since they were children and doesn't get a chance to understand until it's too late. also I think that hathaway should get to hang out with kamille. also also I think that post-hf hathaway and post-cca char should get to talk abt ideology in newtype ghost heaven

My unpopular opinion about this character: people seem to think that he doesn't believe in his stated political beliefs which is. absolutely wild to me. he spends years studying The Geopolitical Situation in order to understand why cca happened, comes to a conclusion, acts on that conclusion, frequently thinks abt & discusses his political beliefs, and then literally dies for them. he uses his official last words to be like "yeah I stand by everything I did and I did it to try to improve the material conditions that you're fucking up" (as opposed to his unofficial actual last words which are being extremely gay with kenneth sleg. he contains multitudes) what more do you want from him. what would convince you that maybe he means what he says and that he has political motivations for his political actions "oh he didn't mean any of that he only tried to assassinate the entire federation cabinet in order to prevent them from enacting an unjust policy that he repeatedly speaks against bc he's haunted by quess's death or (even worse and even more Missing The Point) by quess not dating him" why do you think grief is mutually exclusive with having political ideology. are you not capable of having both personal feelings and political beliefs, or?????

One thing I wish would happen / had happened with this character in canon: I can't answer this question, I'm too busy constantly shaking my head sadly to show that I approve of the canon character death whenever I think abt an au where he survives. something that presumably happened that I would like to see (but also I understand why we don't, given the timeline of the novels) is more of him hanging out with the rest of mafty. show me the downtime episodes, tomino. show me the gossip and the chore wheel and the leftist infighting

My OTP: hathaway/kenneth (my actual opinion is that I think that this is one of those relationships that only really works if gigi is involved too, even though it's a hathaway-centric polycule that's like. almost but not quite a v bc gigi and kenneth do also hook up sometimes, they're just nowhere near as intense abt each other as they are abt him. however. I do have to go with kenneth over gigi if I can only choose one because while I adore gigi and respect the wild choices she makes, nothing she does can even possible come close to kenneth telling hathaway he loves him (technically an exaggeration but like. barely. "hath, you know I care abt you, right?" is one of those sentences that's permanently rattling around in my brain) while he's in the middle of conducting his execution. no one is doing it like kenneth sleg

My OT3: hathaway/gigi/kenneth. see previous

#dreaming.txt #e watches gundam #e reads hf #I think I had a separate tag. bc I briefly thought I was going to liveblog a novel that I then read in like. 2 days instead

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homunculus-argument · 3 years ago

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I think it would do good to modern teenagers to be re-introduced to the idea of unrequited love. Like yes, you're wildly in love with this person who doesn't like you, or if you already bungled it, might actually be actively repulsed by you since you unintentionally creeped them out. And it's painful and tragic and it hurts. That happens sometimes. So what can you do? Honestly nothing, other than to mope about it and suffer through it like it's a long, hard bout of illness that takes months or even years to recover from.

And I think kids should be taught that this isn't just fine and normal, but that you totally can - and actually should - romanticise it. Because since there's nothing else you can do about that sort of thing, you might as well have fun having it. You do get to be the the Tragic Suffering Protagonist about it. It's a beautiful, keen and unique sort of pain that is your own personal tragedy and 100% a you problem.

The idea that the only acceptable outcome of falling in love with someone is a relationship with the object of that desire is genuinely dangerous. The idea that the only way to a happily ever after is to "win them over", get out of the friend zone, finally do some feat that'll impress them or prove your worth and finally get the girl. That's not how it works, that's not how any of this works.

Moping isn't inherently bad for you. Okay of course it's possible to spend too much time wallowing in self-pity, but it's good for you to indulge in it as needed. The difference between poison and medicine is dosage, and everyone is allowed to have a little bit of small personal tragedy sometimes, as a treat. You have to do it sometimes just to get it out of your system, be sad about something for long enough to simply get bored of that, and go do something else.

And not to get "A spoonful of sugar makes the medicine go down" stuck in your head, but sometimes that's the key to it. If the only way to go through something is to suffer through it, might as well make it sweet. Sometimes you just gotta be like "I love her and her happiness means more to me than my own, and she does not want me, so therefore I must do this Noble Sacrifice and suffer in silence and simply let her be happy without me" for like six months or a year until you're done being like that and over with it.

I don't know who the fuck thought it was a good idea to instead teach kids that the only acceptable thing to do is to keep bothering the person you like until they give in in and let you out of the ~friend zone~ and you win. That's just not healthy or helpful for anyone involved.

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abyssruler · 3 years ago

Text

words spoken and left unsaid

pairing: diluc x gn!reader

summary: arlecchino once told you that soulmates were a liability. years later, you come face to face with your supposed destined other, death looming over your shoulder and threatening to have you within its grasp. as the claymore draws inches from your throat, you’re more than inclined to believe her words.

note: soulmate au, the first words your soulmate says to you are written on your skin, reader is raised by the fatui, arlecchino and childe play major roles!

word count: 3.6k

warning/s: ambiguous ending, mentions of death and blood

You’ve never known love. The other children in the orphanage formed cliques and made up families, calling one another brothers and sisters and falling into the delusion of comfort that at least someone in this world loved them.

Everyone had soulmates. Children who’ve known each other often share their words to each other, to gossip and giggle about their fated partner and how nice their words are.

Your words aren’t nice. Nor are they romantic or sad or even normal.

(“My father wants me to be normal,” a boy your age tells you in the distant future, lifeless eyes staring into the pile of recruits he’d just defeated, a pair of hydro blades by his sides.

You think about your life and your words and the vision hanging to your back. And to this boy who will one day outrank you, you say, “But normal is boring.”)

That has not happened yet, and as you lay in your bed alone with bruises and cuts after a long day of working harder than the rest, tracing the words on your skin, you had wished you were normal.

I’ll let you live this once, Fatui scum.

A promise and a curse written in neat, aristocratic lines on your collarbones, as red as the blood that dripped from your knuckles when you went too far and nearly killed a boy three years older than you.

It was his own fault anyway.

“Your soulmate must hate you, freak!” And so you showed him and everyone else who were unfortunate enough to be within the vicinity that you weren’t a freak. You were a monster.

As the boy lay bleeding on the ground with a crowd of onlookers around you, a dull purple glow emanated from your bloody hand. Everyone saw as you opened your palm and revealed a vision, a recognition from the gods.

Visions were rare, and as the main overseer of the Fatui-operated orphanage, Arlecchino was quick to place you under her close watch. You thought it meant something, for her to take interest in you and set you apart from the other children, but as always, you were wrong.

“You’re a flight risk,” she told you with that same voice that always held a sort of contemptuousness to it. “Your soulmate is strong, strong enough to defeat you and spare your life in the future. Naturally, their hatred for the Fatui makes them an enemy.” She looks at you then with her strange eyes that never fail to make you squirm. “And what do we, the Fatui, do with strong enemies?”

“We make them disappear,” you answer.

She nods as if pleased by your response, but you’ve known her long enough to know that the Knave is never pleased with anything, merely a facade amongst the many facades she wears. “Forget soulmates, the very concept of it is one cosmic joke. The moment they say those words to you, be sure to end their life.”

You think of your soulmate, of the words at your collarbones and the hollowness you feel at the thought of fighting your own soulmate—of killing your own soulmate. You’re not one to believe in fairytales and happily ever afters—none of the children in the orphanage can afford such dreams—but you think it’d be a terribly lonely existence if your soulmate was also your fated enemy.

But they were already watching you, waiting for the moment you’ll meet your soulmate and wonder who you’ll pick: the Fatui or the person destined for you?

You’ve always known without a doubt that you will never choose anything but your homeland—but they didn’t know that, so you worked hard and trained night and day with your vision until you were sure you could kill a man in your sleep.

And at the age of twelve you were officially enlisted in the ranks of the Fatui.

✧

“General!” A recruit bursts into your tent. Annoyed at the interruption, you look up from the papers you’d been skimming through to send him a cold glare. You see him bow his head, his fear so potent you could almost see him trembling over his thick coat.

“This better be good.”

He raises his head back. “We’ve just found signs of a camp nearby, the others think it might be related to the person who’s been destroying Fatui bases recently.”

“You think?” You stare at him balefully, he shrinks from your gaze.

“We—”

An explosion from outside interrupts him. Instantly on alert, you stand up from your chair and run to the entrance of your tent, a hunch on the forefront of your mind. The recruit from earlier rushes outside.

The first thing you see are crimson flames before a recruit is sent flying your way. Dodging with ease, you let sparks of electro run through your fingers, the vision hanging by your back glowing purple.

You catch sight of the person responsible for the mess the Fatui have had for the past few months. The troublemaker, Arlecchino once called him, distate evident in her tone. Seeing the red flames licking through the air and his red hair and red coat and red claymore—Archons, did this person have no sense of color scheme?—you were more inclined to call him the Crimson Menace.

Electricity pumped through your legs as you ran through the camp to intercept the annoyance. Pyro was your least favorite element to contend with, simply because of the sheer collateral damage it caused, but since your entire camp was already a flaming mess, a little more explosions caused by overload probably wouldn’t do much harm.

Dead recruits rushed past as you made your way to him, the smell of burning flesh thick in the air. You leaped, blade in hand as you aimed for the neck while his back was turned, going straight for the kill. You didn’t anticipate him to have such quick reactions with that lumbering claymore he wielded as he blocked your attack.

In a matter of seconds, your surroundings are reduced to nothing but charred remains of what used to be a grassy field.

It feels like hours instead of just minutes as you parried blows against each other. Explosions occurring with each meeting between pyro and electro. For the first time since you were a child, you felt yourself smile as you let the thrill of battle wash over you. You think you finally understand what Tartaglia means when he says the aroma of battle is addicting.

It feels odd, fighting an enemy like him and realizing how much you enjoyed it, something familiar about it in a way you couldn’t quite grasp. You complemented each other’s fighting styles. Where he was stronger, you were quicker; where he preferred his fists, you preferred your kicks.

You could have spent the rest of eternity exchanging blows and you wouldn’t have minded the least. How strange. How terrifying. You’ve never felt this way before, such keen loss of control on your emotions.

If it hadn’t been for the stray blade of a brave fool of a recruit flying between the two of you and forcing you to leap away from each other, you think you would have spent the rest of your time fighting him.

That moment of distraction was enough for him to send a large flaming phoenix heading your way, much too fast for you to dodge completely, so you instead let out a barrage of electro. The explosion dealt by the corresponding overload did less damage than what his flames would have. You were sent flying to a nearby tree, hitting your head so hard against the trunk you momentarily blacked out.

When you next open your eyes, you’re leaning against the tree, blood dripping from a cut on your forehead and forcing you to close one eye. The crimson menace looms over your prone form, the tip of his claymore mere inches away from your neck.

Is this how you’re going to die?

Arlecchino would be so disappointed—but no, that’s not quite true. Disappointment is not an emotion that can be associated with the Knave. To be disappointed is to imply that she had any sort of expectation for you in the first place.

Should the report of your death reach her desk, she would merely discard it as another one of the Fatui’s failures, never giving it another glance.

How pitiful. To have lived a life without experiencing love. You wonder if your soulmate will be relieved or devastated that you’re dead. The former, most likely.

The stranger’s red eyes bore into you. You sneer at him through strangely blurry eyes.

“Go ahead and kill me, I won’t beg for my life.”

And for the first time since you fought him, he visibly falters, claymore lowering for a fraction of a second before it returns to its spot, although you can see that his resolve has been shattered, from what little you can glimpse of his face behind that mask. First words are sacred, you’ve always known, but with your brain rattled from the explosion earlier, you were slow to connect the dots.

He lowers his claymore slowly, almost reluctantly, to the ground. Then, with a voice filled with contempt, he utters the words that you’ve agonized over for the past nineteen years of your existence.

He leaves soon after.

You always thought that despite the words on your skin, despite how everyone has told you that he’s an enemy, you’d somehow find it in yourself to love your soulmate, your destined partner. But as you watched him walk away from you, his hair as red as the blood seeping from your wounds, you think you’ve never hated anyone more in your entire life.

✧

Diluc has lived his entire life believing that his soulmate will die from his hands. It used to be so inconceivable when he was a child—young and naive and so utterly blind to the real world—but now he’s accepted it. His father is dead because of his weakness and his brother is a spy he almost killed (I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean it, please don’t leave), so what’s one more thing to add to the list of things that’ll burn by his hand?

Everything he touches, he ruins.

But as he looked at your defiant eyes, that burning glare hotter than his flames could ever hope to be, he wondered if the world made you his soulmate for a reason.

“I’ll let you live this once, Fatui scum.”

There’s realization dawning on your eyes that turns into anguish before being overshadowed by the sheer hatred your gaze pierces him with.

He walks away and hopes you’ll hate him enough to snuff out the flames that would otherwise burn you like it did everyone he loved.

✧

You’re the only person he ever spared throughout his rampage of destroying Fatui bases and raiding camps.

When Arlecchino, the Harbinger you’re assigned to—always have and always will, she told you as she gave you your mask when you were twelve—asks you if you know why he did so, you tell her honestly.

“He’s my soulmate.”

They detain you.

✧

“Lord Tartaglia, what brings you here?”

“Aw c’mon now, is that any way to greet an old friend? Drop the formalities, I miss those days when you used to call me Ajax with that contemptuous look of yours, back when you were ranked much higher than me!”

You send him a baleful glare.

He raises his hand in peace. “Hey, don’t get upset with me, I’m doing you a favor. The only person who’s probably visited you other than me is Arlecchino, and Tsaritsa knows she’s not the best company to have around, I’d even argue to say that she’s the worst.”

The Knave did not, in fact, visit you in all your time within captivity, not even a written message passed on to a subordinate. Not that you expected her to do so. Despite what others may think, the relationship you two have is not that of a mentor and student, it was of a master and her servant. And what did masters do to useless servants?

They discarded them.

“What do you want?” You cross your arms, leaning against the ice cold walls. You suppose there were worse places to be than the cozy cells used for high ranking prisoners. And to think people were whispering about the possibility of you being promoted to the rank of Harbinger within a year if you kept up your training. How laughable. Now you’re nothing but a flight risk, the very thing you feared to become as a child. Your entire life’s worth of hard work pushed down the drain because of a few measly words uttered by a complete stranger.

Arlecchino was right, the concept of soulmates was nothing but a cosmic joke.

Childe grins, taking a seat on the hard ground in front of your cell. “I heard you met your soulmate the other day. I have to say though, not a big fan of the guy after he killed my favorite subordinate last month.”

“If you’re looking to interrogate me then it’s no use, I’ve already told Lord Arlecchino everything I know.”

“Oh, I’m not here for that,” he reassures you, scooting closer so that his face is inches away from the bars. “We’ve done some researching on that—what was it you called him?—ah right, the crimson menace.”

“I see you’ve read the reports,” you note, already tiring of this conversation.

“Of course I have! When I heard my favorite comrade got sent behind bars, I immediately went snooping around.” He then shakes his head, bringing back the previous topic. “Anyway, that’s not what I wanted to say.”

You sigh, turning your back to him, ready to end this conversation, but his next words make you freeze.

“Don’t you want to know who your soulmate is?”

It’s a test, your mind warns you, the other, more naive part argues otherwise, this is Ajax we’re talking about.

The rational part wins out. “I don’t care. Once I get out of here, I’ll personally set off and kill him to prove my loyalty to the Tsaritsa.”

He laughs, loud and bright, if only to hide how empty he truly is. He was even more of a monster than you are. “That’s all well and good, but seriously, do you wanna know or not? There’s no test here or whatever you’re probably thinking of, just a friend willing to dish out some info.”

You remain silent, still with your back to him but now more willing to listen. You don’t give out any sort of verbal assent, but he takes your silence as a yes anyway.

“Alright, I guess I’ll just tell you.” He leans close for theatrics, like he’s about to tell you some top secret information. “His name is Diluc Ragnvindr, and apparently he comes from a rich and noble family in Mondstadt. I suppose you lucked out on that one, huh? Ah, if only we were normal people.”

You remain silent, the name echoing in your mind, carving a hole for itself so that you might never forget the name of the person you vow to kill one day.

He glances at you with his lifeless eyes and smiles at the blank look on your face. “But normal is boring, isn’t it?”

✧

Eventually, they release you after ascertaining that you won’t run off to the sunset hand in hand with your soulmate once you get the chance.

Upon your return, Arlecchino spares you the barest of glances before leaving for other, more important matters that concern her.

You tell yourself you don’t mind the casual dismissal. If you lie to yourself enough times, you start to believe them.

✧

The next time you meet your soulmate, you’re out collecting a debt as a favor from Tartaglia. You come across a nearby Fatui camp and find it burning, dead bodies strewn across the ground. There was only one possible perpetrator.

He appears before you in a flash of flames.

The dance you engage in is familiar, like a person returning home to their lover’s embrace. Except the two of you are anything but lovers and the meeting of your blade against his can hardly be called an embrace, electro and pyro weaving through the air.

This was it. The battle that will decide which of you will live to see another day. There was no more hesitation, no more sparing the life of the other. The two of you were soulmates, but you were also enemies on opposing sides that both of you will never betray for anything else, even if it meant killing the other half of your soul.

The ground was rumbling but neither of you cared for it. Your inattention was both a blessing and a curse.

He stumbled, you wasted no time in taking the opportunity to parry his claymore and send it flying to the other side of the burnt camp. He was cornered with no weapon but his fists and—you note with disdain at his hypocrisy—a Fatui issued delusion.

You take one step closer. The ground shakes. You pay it no mind.

Diluc Ragnvindr’s eyes were wide behind the mask he wore. You thought it was because of his impending death, but then he opens his arms and tackles you to the side.

A missile explodes right where you’d been standing.

Ignoring the weight on top of you, you turn your head and saw four ruin guards by the entrance of the camp. You move your gaze to the person laying on top of you, and the two of you come to a silent agreement.

He picks himself up and runs to his claymore while you leapt at the nearest ruin guard, electro imbued sword aimed right for its weak spot. As you pushed off one ruin guard and onto another, a flaming pheonix ravaged the ruin guard you’d previously attacked.

Pyro and electro users never go well when used against each other, but when used to fight a common enemy? The sheer destruction was enough to level an entire mountain.

The burned and smoking remains of the ruin guards lay scattered all over the camp with the rest of the dead bodies of your comrades. Now, it was just you and him.

His mask had fallen off somewhere in the middle of the fight, his face visible for you to see. He was… you suppose he could be called handsome, but calling him that felt too personal, had too much attachment held to it because handsomeness and beauty were subjective terms. You did not find him handsome, but you didn’t find him unattractive either.

He was aesthetically pleasing, that was it.

You should kill him now while his guard is down, and your hand itches to do so once the thought forms, but something stops you. Guilt? A misplaced sense of gratitude? Or the fact that he’s your soulmate?

No.

A debt to repay.

You sheathe your blade, picking up his mask from the ground and handing it to him, not meeting his eyes and ignoring the way something in you twists when his fingers brush against yours.

“Consider us equal now,” you say, feigning ignorance to his stare boring holes to the side of your face. “The next time we see each other, I won’t let you escape alive. Leave now.”

He nods wordlessly and leaves without another glance. You tell yourself it wasn’t the greatest mistake you’ve ever made. If you lie to yourself enough times, you start to believe them.

✧

You file the report about the burnt camp and dead recruits as the work of the ruin guards. In the report, you write how you came just in time to destroy the machines before they left the camp. There’s no mention of your red haired soulmate.

You tell yourself this isn’t treason as you place the report on Arlecchino’s desk.

✧

Next year, you hear from Childe about your soulmate’s encounter with one of the Harbingers and how he barely managed to escape with his life. Your old subordinate retells it all with a grin, saying how he heard the rumor from Pulcinella and that Pulcinella heard it from Signora, who in turn heard it from Pierro.

You don’t hear much from his ramblings because of the sickening realization that you had felt relieved that he survived.

“Comrade? What’s the matter?” Childe leans his face close to yours, inspecting you. His eyes fill with understanding and glee. “What’s this? Were you worried? The mighty and fearsome general and right hand of the Knave was worried for—”

You send him the most hateful glare that would have shriveled a normal recruit on the spot. “Shut up.”

He laughs. “Don’t be like that! You know I can keep a secret.”

“There is no secret to keep. Your reassurances are unneeded.” Your vision starts to emit a dull glow, sparks forming at the tip of your fingers.

He regards you with a faint twist to his lips, a knowing look in his eyes. “If you say so.”

✧

You hear of his return to Mondstadt, quiet and lackluster.

You tell yourself you don’t care.

✧

“You mean to tell us that your soulmate’s from the Fatui? And a high ranking one at that!” Paimon exclaims with wide eyes, mouth open with disbelief.

“Paimon, be quiet,” the Traveler chastises her, turning to Diluc with an apologetic smile. “But yeah, I guess I’m curious too. Do you think you’ll ever meet again?”

Diluc hums idly, thinking of your last words to him and all the unsent letters to Snezhnaya that lay abandoned in a drawer somewhere in his office.

“Only time will tell.”

here’s an ask about a continuation of sorts

#genshin x reader #genshin impact x reader #diluc x reader #diluc ragnivindr x reader #gn reader #soulmate au

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drabblingman · 2 years ago

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"One True Love"

Solomon hated those three words.

To most people, they were considered the epitome of many a romantic plot; the neat and tidy way to wrap up a story and let the viewer know that the couple indeed loved each other very much, oftentimes ending with a "happily ever after".

To others, it was a goal. Something and someone to strive for. Your "One True Love". The only person in the world that was meant for you.

It made him sick.

What kind of goal was that? Why would anyone resign themselves to such a fate? Glorify it? Place it on the highest pedestal as the ultimate relationship to ever exist?

What kind of cruel joke would that be for an immortal?

He couldn't imagine it. Couldn't imagine never meeting and falling in love with his lovers past. He loved them, truly loved them, with all of his heart. Each and every one of them.

He could picture their faces. He could hear their voice. When he was alone in bed, and the darkness obscured his covers, he could imagine each and every one of them laying beside him.

He could feel the pain of losing them. Each new way his heart had shattered. An agony that he would forget each time his heart mended, a new loss now fresh and new and biting. Until it faded again. Until he began feeling normal again.

And then he met someone new.

And the exhilaration. The flirting and teasing and banter that made his heart race and face flush in spite of the aloof front he tried to put up, every single time.

The thrill of returned feelings, of first dates and subtle touches, of early stages that went by entirely too quickly, but always settled in to something much greater.

The comfort, the absolute comfort of someone who knew you. By far, his favorite part was the settling in to each other, no more firsts or surprises to be had, just a home to return to. A safe space, in the shape of a person who looked to him for the exact same things.

And then it would be over, and the cycle would repeat. Endlessly.

And while in many ways he hated it, hated the curse of immortality and the grief of losing every person he ever loved, who would he be if he hadn't loved them? Who would he be if his story had been one of "One True Love", destined to end when he himself could not?

He couldn't fathom it.

How twisted by grief would he have become? How bitter would he have been for millennia, witnessing generation after generation fall in love and die in turn? What kind of man would he have become?

He never thought himself much a romantic, but maybe he would have to reconsider that.

Because he couldn't live without love. He couldn't live without the feelings of accepting and being accepted by someone in the most simple yet intimate of ways. He couldn't live without the inside jokes whispered in crowded spaces with hands intertwined, or the evenings spent apart yet together in the same room, the mere presence of each other being enough.

And as he bore witness to new feelings blossoming, as he nurtured the familiar feeling in his chest, beating together with his heart, he realized...

...He couldn't live with "One True Love".

#soooooo I've had this written for a while now and never posted it #but now that nightbringer is bringing everyone over to the Solomon side i decided to post it #he isn't one of my favorites but I was thinking about him one day and how he'd hate the concept of one true love lol #and then this was born #hopefully it's not oit if character with him #I just think he's a neat little guy #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me swd #obey me solomon #obey me angst #obey me fluff #obey me!#obey me nightbringer #obey me drabble #drabblingman drabbles on again

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donutloverxo · 5 years ago

Text

Good little wife

Note - Inspired by a request I got long ago and written for the happy hoelidays challenge I'm cohosting with my sister hoes @navybrat817 and @stargazingfangirl18 . I used the prompts two idiots in love + Character A loves Christmas. Character B hates it. A melts Bs cold heart Dividers by @firefly-graphics .

Summary - Your husband makes up to you for being a Grinch and a meanie to you throughout your marriage.

Warnings - 18+ only, smut(m/f), dub con, older man/younger woman, arranged marrige, leaking nudes, daddy kink, blood play, virginity/innocence kink, loss of virginity, virgin reader, painful sex, misogyny, mob activities.

Pairing - Mob!Andy Barber x reader

Word count - 8k

“You look beautiful, cookie,” your mother raved, pressing her lips to your cheek, “He’s a lucky man.”

You only hummed. Staring at your refection, seeing someone you didn’t even recognize.

Your white lace dress somewhat conservative, still really pretty, something you would’ve been more than happy to wear if your circumstances weren’t so depressing.

You almost let out a sardonic laugh, you didn’t get to choose your husband but at least you chose your wedding gown.

“It’ll be alright,” your mother picked at your hair, noticing your evident sadness, you’ve never been one to hide how you feel anyway, “you’ll learn to love him. He’s very successful.”

“I always thought ‘money doesn’t make you happy',” something she had said to you so many times over the years.

“That’s just a fairy tale. People fall out of love, run out of things to talk about, men cheat, in the end all that’s left is how well he can provide for you,” she stated.

You checked your phone as soon as you could, going through your messages to see if your boyfriend, or rather your now ex boyfriend, had sent you anything. You still naively hoped that he'd come on a white horse and sweep you off and away, so you wouldn’t have to marry someone you’ve else. So you wouldn’t have to give up your freedom forever and just be someone’s wife.

But you saw nothing. He hadn’t talked to you, not since your father found out about you both. Since he was from a family your daddy hated with a passion, and you were supposed to as well, your father made you cut all times with him. Locked you in your room in a timeout till you came to your senses.

After over three weeks he came to you, telling you how he was ready to forgive you and move on. You were so happy. For a minute you let yourself believe that this was your father, he loved you unconditionally, of course he'd set aside whatever vain feud he has and let you be with your love.

All your hopes were crushed when he told you he had selected a husband for you whom you have to marry in just a month. That you had to drop out of college since you wouldn’t need that degree anyway.

You always did believe that he had your best interests at heart, you wanted to believe it this time as well, but you just couldn’t.

Cringing inwardly when he kissed your cheeks, “You look beautiful,” he told you, cold eyes staring at you, “Don’t try anything stupid. Andrew is a good man,” he looped your arm in with his.

“He’s more than a decade older than me,” you argued, biting your lip as he squeezed your arm to warn you.

You slapped a fake smile on your face, walking down, one step after another as everyone looked at you in awe.

This is supposed to be the happiest day of your life...

But when you looked at Andy waiting for you at the alter you felt nothing but grave anxiety which made your teeth clatter, his palms joined together at his front, he did look handsome with his tux and neat beard. You have had a crush on him for a long time but you’ve never even had a real conversation with him, you didn’t know him. No one did.

Your heart filled with dread as your father handed you over to Andy, patting him on his shoulder, “Take good care of her.”

“I will,” Andy smiled.

You weren’t really there, maybe your body was but your soul had left you to maybe make the whole ordeal less painful. The priest read the vows asking you if you were ready to take him as your husband forever.

“I do,” since you had no other choice.

“I do,” he repeated.

You felt a shiver jolt up your spine when his fingers grazed yours, putting the thin silver band on your finger before lifting your veil to press his lips to yours, giving you a chaste, barely there kiss as everyone cheered you on.

The rest of the evening was a blur, you could barely register what had happened, everyone sweetly calling you ‘Mrs Barber’ only making you more nervous.

Andy however, was cordial and formal as always, shaking their hands and thanking them.

Since you hadn’t really taken any dance lessons you were left to simply wing it with him at your first dance. With your clammy hands in his you tried to match his pace as he lead you, bumping into his feet with yours more than once.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “Relax,” making you shudder.

You looked up at him, he had barely said two words to you but your grandmother often said ‘Eyes are the windows to the soul’.

And Andy’s eyes were so... kind, like a blue ocean you could happily drown in. He almost looked at you as if he were fond of you.

Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad...

You didn’t really expect Andy to carry you over the threshold, that was just a silly little fantasy you’ve always had and you knew he’d never indulge you in it but he didn’t even hold the door open for you.

You looked around his condo, so grey and boring, looked like it was out of a magazine catalogue, you felt so out of place there.

Naturally, you followed him to his bedroom, watching him wake his coat off, followed by his cuffs as he rolled his sleeves up.

You went over what you wanted to say in your head, how do you tell your husband that you’re a virgin, on your wedding night--that was something your grandmother never gave you advice on. You could’ve used her wisdom then.

With your mouth suddenly dry you tried to speak as he poured himself a drink, “Um... I’ve...”

“What?” he looked at you, quirking a brown brow up.

“Nothing,” you shook your head as you took a seat on the edge of the bed. “This is a nice house.”

“You can take the guestroom,” he said bluntly.

“What?”

“You can take the guestroom. I’ve already put all your bags there, you can decorate it however you like but don’t touch anything else.”

“But I...I’ve never heard of husband and wife sleeping in different rooms.”

“That’s true, it is unusual. This is not a normal marriage though, is it?” His tone so frustratingly patronising, as if he was talking to a child.

You’ve never really been appreciated for your mind, women never are--not where you come from, even your love Alex only ever thought of you as a ‘pretty face’. But Andy didn’t need to spell it out for you, “You... don’t want me...” you realised.

He only scoffed. He’d never been one for long term relationships, he had tried but he could never give himself to another person, women often called him emotionally unavailable, his demanding and dangerous job did contribute a lot to that, but more than that it was his unwillingness to change. He was self aware enough to know that but he didn’t need anyone else. He didn’t want to be tied down or to have a nagging immature wife.

“But why...” you wondered. Sure, you weren’t thrilled to marry him, but now you had accepted it and wanted to make the best of your new life. You thought he wanted the same.

“Why would I want you?” he spat. “ You’re nothing but a spoilt rich girl who’s had everything handed to her. Who was ungrateful and stupid enough to fraternize with the enemy.”

You let out a shaky exhale, looking at him with teary eyes, “I loved him...”

“You don’t know the first thing about love,” he rolled his eyes.

“He loved me too! But I’m willing to put that behind me. I made a vow to you.”

“You really don’t know, do you?”

“Know what?” you frowned.

He took his phone out of his pocket, opening his gallery to show you the compromising pictures you had sent to your ex, “He shared that with everyone, it was all just a ploy to humiliate your father.”

You gasped, taking his phone in your trembling hand, your breasts exposed as you shyly looked at the camera. You had flat out refused to send him a nude when he asked for it but then he threatened to break up with you, to go after your best friend, even called you a prude because you hadn’t slept with him. At the moment you felt as if you had no choice but to do it...

“He wouldn’t,” you sobbed.

“And because of your stupidity I had to marry you since no one else would ever want you,” he said. But then regretted it as you just started crying harder. He thought of maybe trying to console you but what would he even say?

He took the phone from you before you could even think of deleting the photos. He used them to pleasure himself almost every night. Maybe he was an idiot, he could have the real thing, yet he was pushing you away, “Go to your room,” he told you which made you sob even moreso.

You looked up at him, begging him for a hug, for some sort of comfort or sympathy but his face was cold and harsh. Finally gathering your wits you went to the other room, ready to cry yourself to sleep.

No matter how beautiful you were, you were still thrusted upon him, you didn’t love him, you never could because you never even had a choice

“Perfect,” you beamed, setting down the chicken pot pie you had just cooked up.

Your grandmama had always told you that a wife should be a cook in the kitchen and a whore in the bedroom. So that her man would never stray.

And while you hadn’t had a chance to be a whore for Andy... something that you were looking forward to, you hoped the fresh home cooked meal, the holiday season and decorations you had spent the past few days working on would put him in the mood. To maybe accept you as his wife.

For the past six months you had tried everything, making him breakfast, packing his lunch, offering him massages, even trying to help him with his work but he was always so cold to you.

You feared that this is how it will be forever. He would never love you, not the way you’ve always loved him. Even when he was so cruel towards you.

But you were nothing if not resilient. So you said chuck it and went all out. Decorating your whole house, with a real tree for the past few days while Andy was out on a work trip for thanksgiving. Maybe you could surprise him and he’d realise just how much he lucked out with you.

You even went with a more risqué outfit than you usually would. Your little emerald green skirt with pleats was a bit too short and impractical for the cold winters but you were going to stay inside anyway. It was topped off with a tight burgundy blouse and a push up bra which made your girls look enticing and some red pumps.

With a pumpkin pie for dessert in the oven, your salads done and the gingerbread flavored candles lit up you were good to go.

So you sat on the couch, watching 'A Christmas story' for the hundredth time to kill time till he gets home and to distract your nervous mind.

After ninety minutes the movie was over but Andy still wasn’t home. You tried calling him but it kept going to voicemail.

Frustrated, but determined to follow through with your ‘Seduce Andy Barber’ plan you put on another movie, chewing your lip till it bled as you impatiently waited for him.

Soon it was midnight, your food got cold and the rumbling in your tummy became more prominent so you decide to eat your dinner, put the leftovers in the freezer and cut your losses.

You were almost done with your dishes when your husband coming into the apartment, turning around you saw him hang his coat on the back of the chair and plomp down on it. He groaned, pulling the sleeves of his shirt up to reveal his bulky forearms.

“You’re home,” you said, taking off your apron so he could see your little get up.

He didn’t smile at you like you expected he would, he didn’t say ‘Good job’ like you thought he would. He certainly didn’t look like he wanted to bend you over the dining table and take you then and there. He simply frowned at you. Looking at you as if your mere existence offended him.

“I told you; you were allowed to decorate your room however you liked. Not the whole apartment,” he growled, rubbing a hand over his face.

“What? I did it for you... I thought you would like it, ” you stood there, dumbfounded, shifting from one foot to another, “You don’t like Christmas.” You realised.

“No, I don’t. Christmas isn’t all fun and jolly for everybody. I’ve never had anyone to celebrate it with,” he did you a once over, his pants tightening uncomfortably as he took in your little ensemble.

He had never had a single good Christmas in his whole life. He’d usually spend it either working or drinking. But now, he had you, his good little wife who had gone out of her way to do all this just for him.

He could kiss your red lips then and there, finally do what he’s been wanting to go for the past few months and make love to you, eat the delicious meal you had made him because he was fucking starving.

But then he realized how easily you could be taken away from him. How this was all so fickle.

“Do you want a divorce?” he crossed his hands over his chest, as if daring you to give a wrong answer, “If you do, I’ll give you one right now.”

“I - ” you strutted, you didn’t really know, “Daddy would never let that happen.” To which he scoffed.

Your father would kill you both if this marriage failed. He knew that, why would he still be willing to risk everything?

“Where are you going?” you asked when he got up from the chair.

“To my room, to sleep,” he sighed.

He knew what you would say, he knew you were daddy’s little girl who’d die before disappointing her father, which was solely why you were with him, and yet he let himself fall for you and get hurt.

You tugged on his shirt, ready to beg him to at least eat the meal you made for him but then you frowned, inhaling the feminine perfume from his shirt, mixed with his own Cologne, you took a step back, your eyes brimming with tears as you realised he might’ve been with another woman.

While you were home slaving away to make everything perfect for him.

Your father had a handful of mistresses, a few of them younger than you. Your mother knew, all wives know and look the other way. That was how it was supposed to be. It was how you make marriages last...

And your poor beaten heart could take his coldness towards you, it absolutely could not bear him being with another woman. Your father had always praised him for being loyal, and it was one of the things you loved about him...

“Where were you?” you sniffled to keep the tears at bay.

“I was out working. So I could pay for your shopping sprees.” He spat.

You gasped, “I haven’t gone shopping in months! I only did now for Christmas!”

“That tree better be down by the time I wake up. You can out all that crap in your bedroom if you like. I do not what to see it.” He said gravelly, before slamming his door shut.

Something was horribly wrong.

Andy came home to an empty, cold house. You weren’t there to greet him like you usually are, in fact you hadn’t been for the past few weeks. He could hear the TV from your room, some kind of musical playing.

He checked the kitchen for some food, you used to make dinner every night, rave about your love for cooking and baking, but now it seemed that you lived on poptarts and McDonald’s.

He knocked on your door, to ask if you wanted some of the alfredo he was cooking up, also to maybe get you to have dinner with him.

Ever since he had married you, he had such a beautiful companion to have dinner with. To watch silly romcoms with, someone who waited for him to come home, called him all worried when he was late, asked him how his day was

It’d break his heart to say good night to you, you’d give him those puppy eyes, fluttering your lashes as if begging him to invite you to bed with him.

He wanted to ask you to come, to feel what it would be like to snuggle up with your soft body, to smell your hair, to finally fuck you, but he’d just go away to sleep in his cold bed with a heavy heart. Making do with his hand as he thought of you, it wouldn’t feel nearly as good as you would but it would have to do.

“Can I come in, honey?” he asked.

Letting himself in when no answer came from you. You were lying on your bed, blankets draped over you, your eyes trained on the television. He looked around your room, he had only been there a couple of times, he had expected to see some kind of winter wonderland since you were such a fan of Christmas.

But it looked just how it usually did... pale pink walls, a queen sized bed, a small closet and a dresser and a vanity. No tree or fairy lights or nut crackers.

He leaned against the door frame. “Did you have dinner?” He wanted to know.

You made some sort of unintelligible noise; which could mean anything. So he asked, “Would you like some pasta? I can’t make it as good as you do but I’ll try.”

“No.” You answered. Still not even looking at him.

“It’s Christmas Eve, do you want to go celebrate with your family?”

You shook your head in response. “No, I think I’ll just stay here.”

He had stolen your brightness and sunshine away, tainting you with his darkness. “Stop it,” he scolded, switching off the TV and standing in front of you to make you listen to him. “Get ready, I’m dropping you off at your fathers. You’re not spending Christmas in bed.”

“What difference does it make?” you huffed.

“Get ready. Right. Now.” He ordered, pulling your blanket away from you.

“No!” you whined. Sitting up, your face heating up with a simmering rage you had harbored for months. “Why do you even care? Do you want to get me out of the house so you could spend Christmas with her?!”

“Who’s her?” he furrowed his brows.

“Your mistress!” you yelled, looking around for something you could hurt him with, you grabbed a hold of your Mrs Bunny, your cute pink stuffie and threw it at his face. “I’m not going anywhere. And you’re not bringing her in to my house!” You said, throwing another stuffie at him which he caught with his hand.

“Honey,” he said, as if he was so disappointed with you, for catching him in his lies and deceit. “I don’t have a mistress. Where would I even find the time for one? All those late nights were spent at the office or in meetings.”

He would be the world’s biggest idiot to get a mistress when he had a wife like you waiting for him at home. A wife he hadn’t even so much as even kissed... given how pouty and tempting your lips looked, he didn’t know how he resisted for so long.

“Don’t call me honey,” you puffed out your cheeks, “And I don’t believe you.”

“Well, what can I do to make you believe me?”

You sighed, laying back down on the bedding, “There’s not much you can do. Except leave me be. I just want to sleep this Christmas away.”

He had to do something to get your spirits up. And since you has thrown away your old decorations he ran to every store in the town, waiting in the queue for hours, calling in as many favors as he could to get some new ones.

While he wasn’t able to get a real Christmas tree, he got a fake one which was a bit smaller than the one you had put up but not all that bad.

You had decorated the apartment with the traditional red, greens and golden he decided to go with a soft pastel pink theme. Hoping that you would like it and forgive him.

He had gotten you couple of gifts, a little babydoll he saw on the internet, it was pink and sexy, he thought of you the moment he saw it. Ordering it for you but he never really gathered enough courage to ask you to wear it. He wrapped it up for you in some festive paper, tying a ribbon around it.

He decided to get as many gifts for you as he could so the tree wouldn’t look so depressing, a Tiffany’s set, an advent calendar from a make up company he knew you liked, a box of cookies and one of chocolates, a new apron with floral patterns and frilly trimmings, some cozy socks, and a surprise gift he had been saving for you.

Looking around the living room, while it wasn’t as good as what you had done with the place he was still proud of what he could pull off in just a couple of hours.

He called out your name before knocking and entering, switching on your bedside lamp he sat next to you, stroking your hair, “Wake up, angel.”

“Seriously, stop it with the petnames,” you said, your voice groggy from sleep and irritated. Because he had only ever said your name with contempt before.

“I’m not going to stop, honey. You’re my wife, I can call you whatever I like.”

“Whatever,” you mumbled, rubbing your sleep away from your eyes.

“I have a surprise for you.” He smiled at you.

And while he had certainly smiled at you before that, when you had said something funny or silly (which you usually did just to see him smile), this one seemed so much brighter and warm.

“What is it?” you sat up. Still a bit crossed with him but excited to see what surprise he had for you.

“You have to come into the living room for that, and promise to stop being a Grinch,” he said, bopping your nose.

You scoffed incredulously, “I’m being a Grinch?! You were the one who made me take everything down in the first place!”

“I know, honey, and I am sorry for that. Hopefully I can make it up to you.” He winked.

You combed your hair, splashing some water on your face and then following him out to see what he had in mind for you.

You all but gasped at the tree in the middle of your living room, so beautiful, the soft glow of the fairy lights illuminated the room, little festive trinklets all over the room.

He had got you a pink stocking with sparkling silver hearts on it. His was a normal red one with ‘Andy' written with a sharpie or a pen. You giggled at that.

“You like it, honey?” he asked.

You nodded, observing the ornaments on your tree, “I do. Thank you so much, Andy. It’s so beautiful, I don’t think anyone’s ever done something so grand for me.”

Your rave gave him the courage to out his hand over your waist, pulling you into him, “I know this doesn’t make up for everything, but it’s start.”

“Yes! I think... I’d like a fresh start,” you beamed up at him

He excused himself to make some hot chocolate for you both, handing you a mug with little heart shaped marshmallows and sprinkles on top of it. You didn’t even realise how you ended up snuggled up next to him on the couch, Elf playing on the TV which he shockingly had never seen before.

“You know... for someone who hates Christmas so much you did a pretty good job saving it!” you giggled, kissing his bearded cheek.

“Well...” he looked down at you, wiping away the mustache the hot chocolate gave you before sucking his thumb off, “I don’t hate it anymore, because I’m not alone,” he said, his thumb pulling on your plump bottom lip.

“Um...” you face heated up as looked away, “You got me gifts!” you screamed a bit overzealous to change the subject, “Can I open one now? Please?! I’m just so excited!”

“Sure,” he murmured, a bit salty that he didn’t get the kiss.

He knelt next to you on the carpet as you pinked one up, shaking it next to your ear, scrunching your nose up so cutely as you tried to decipher what it was.

“Mmm... I can’t tell...”

“Why don’t you just open it?” he asked as his hand caressed your bare thigh, finding himself unable to keep his hands off of you now that he has you.

You ripped at the wrapping paper, opening the box to reveal the skimpy baby pink lingerie he had got you.

You pulled it out of the box and then started stammering, unable to form words once you realised what it was. “Is this... um..”

“Do you like it?”

“Yes, it’s very cute and nice. Do you, want me to wear it for you?”

“If that’s what you want,” he said casually and then shrugged but then regretted it as your face fell and you let. He wasn’t used to half-assing things if he was going to tell you his true feelings, he had to go all out.

Taking a deep breath, “I have to tell you something I’ve been meaning to say for months.”

“What?”

“I... love you,” he looked down at your lap, because he couldn’t bear to look in your eyes if you decided to reject him.

“Oh, Andy!” you beamed, “I love you too! I’ve always loved you,” you crawled on top of him, throwing your arms around his neck you hugged him.

“That’s good then,” he smiled stroking your back, he pulled you back so he could look at your pretty face, cupping your cheek he pressed his lips against yours.

He had only kissed you once, months ago at your wedding, and while it was not bad at all it was too short and formal and distant, nothing compared to how he felt right now. Moulding his lips against yours, kneading the flesh of your ass, you tasted just as sweet as he imagined you would.

You gasped in his mouth when he rutted his erection up into your core. “Andy!” your chest heaving as you felt him pressing against your thigh.

“What do you say you go put that on for me, doll? Hm?” he instructed.

You meekly nodded, grabbing a hold of the lingerie which you just now noticed was so sheer and would not really leave anything to the imagination.

“Come on out quickly now,” his impatience seeping through his voice as he sat on the edge of his, or what would now be both of your marital bed, one leg crossed over the other, his foot tapping against the floor.

His pants already snug, just from imagining what you would look like with the flimsy thing on. It wasn’t as revealing or kinky as some of the other pieces he had seen, but he felt it would match your personality perfectly.

He groaned, calling out your name again, “I’m gonna fucking die of blue balls, if you don’t come out right now, I’m coming in,” he got up to his feet to do just that but then stopped when he heard the knob twist.

One smooth leg peaking out of the bathroom, “Um... promise you wouldn’t make fun of me?” you asked. Your eyes screwed shut, you didn’t really have much of choice but you had never been so vulnerable in front of anyone. You’d hate to not be satisfactory for him.

“I promise,” his face softened, he had to practice some restrain, at least until he breaks you in, “Now come on out.”

You opened the door, your meek eyes fixed on your hardwood floor, your hands hugging your midsection. You blinked when he said nothing for several long, tortuous moments. Peaking a glance up at him you found him staring at you.

“Uh, do you like it?” you asked as your hands played with the helm of the teddy.

He almost scoffed. Like would be an understatement.

He knew pink would be your color. The nightie so short, clinging to your curves, your nipples pebbled against the satiny fabric, you looked like a sweet little doll and a whole fucking meal to devour at the same time. He would burst before he even got to touch you.

“Twirl,” he made the motion with his forefinger to demonstrate it, “Let me look at you better. And hands to your sides.”

You took a deep breath, letting your hands fall, doing as he had asked, your heart hammering in your chest because for the life of you, you couldn’t figure out if he actually liked you.

“Stop there,” he instructed when he got a look at your pert, round butt, the cloth barely covering it, he could see the imprints of the thong you wore.

“What are you thinking?” you asked.

“If I like your front better or your behind.” He almost chuckled at the incredulous gasp you let out. “Alright, look at me again.” Definitely the front, because he could see your beautiful face. Taking his original position on the bedding, “Come here,” he patted his lap.

Like the obedient wife that you aspired to be, you followed, perching yourself up on his lap, your arms around his neck for some support, looking into his lust blown, dark eyes.

You bite your lip when you felt that pressing into your thigh. Unable to bear his intense gaze you hid your face in the crook of his neck.

He hushed you, snuggling your soft body closer to his, his fingers drawing patterns on your hip, “How many men have you been with before?”

It didn’t really matter whatever your answer would be. But he wanted to tell you, that how ever many there were before him won’t matter anymore. From now on you are solely his.

“None,” you whispered so lowly that he almost couldn’t hear you.

“What?” Holding onto your chin so that he could make you look at him, “None? How is that possible?”

“I’ve just been waiting for the right one... I was going to with Alex but then didn’t...” you said as your hands caressed the coarse hair on his jaw.

He hummed, the fact that he would be your one and only, forever, only served to entice him further.

“Have you ever sucked a cock before?” he asked, although he knew the answer.

“No...”

“Don’t worry, I’ll guide you,” he promised, pushing on your shoulders to make you get on your knees.

You hissed at the cold floor, biting into the your calves and knees.

His dainty princess, he grabbed a throw pillow, instructing you to put it under, all the while staring at your cleavage peaking out like a creep.

Your eyes were fixated on his crotch, eager to see what a real penis looks like. You had watched some porn when you were a teen, out of sheer curiosity, but your friends had told you to lower your expectations. That real ones are much smaller and not so aesthetically pleasing.

You all but gasped when he took his cock out of the confines of his sweats, slapping over his abdomen. So big... and thick, with two veins over it, a bright flushed tip leaking with pre-ejaculate, and some soft hair dusted at the base of it.

You tried to stop yourself but then couldn’t help it, your hand shyly touching his tip yanking it down and then releasing it to see what happens. As suspected it flew back over, hard against his tummy, making you giggled.

“Oh gosh...” you slapped a palm over your mouth to stop from laughing.

He scrunched up the hair on the back of your head, yanking your neck back so that he could look at you, “What’s so funny?” he growled.

“Nothing,” you gulped, “It’s all just so strange and new... and exciting...”

He hummed as he took in your words. Grabbing the base of his cock as he rubbed his tip and precum all over your cheeks till your face was positively glowing with his essence.

“You wanna taste it?” he asked, to which you eagerly nodded.

Nudging your pouty lips with his tips before tapping on them when you didn’t get the clue, “Open.”

“Oh,” you said before opening as wide as you could, his length easing into your mouth. You hummed around him, the salty unique taste of him you had never really known before and couldn’t get enough of now.

He was barely halfway through inside you when he touched the back of your throat, he tutted, “Relax your throat,” he told you.

You didn’t really know what he meant but you tried loosening up all your muscles. Choking around him when he pushed in a few more inches.

Most of him was still out but it was as good as it’s gonna get, not that he’d ever complain... no... your mouth was like heaven. He had only known his hand for the past year Or so, and your mouth was almost too much.

Holding onto your face to keep it in place he started thrusting upwards into you, his heart swelling with tears escaped your eyes but you still tried to take more of him, to please him like the good girl that you were.

He stopped his hips, gently slapping your cheek to get your attention, “You always look at me when my dick is in your mouth. Got it?”

Since you couldn’t talk with your mouth full of cock, you just nodded.

You peered up at him innocently, fluttering your lashes, popping him out of your sloppy mouth, “Am I doing it right?” because you truly couldn’t tell.

He chuckled, smoothening a hand down your hair, “More than right... it’s too good but I want to come in your pussy. Maybe I’ll make you swallow my load latter, what do you think?”

“Yes, I’d like that,” you licked your lips to taste more of him.

“Get on the bed,” he ordered.

“Um... can I go fix my face before that,” you rubbed your mouth with the back of your hand, you doubted you looked very pretty to him then.

“No,” he stated, pulling you up by your armpits and all but throwing you on the bed.

You yelped and tried to protest, “I wanna look good for you...”

He pushed your legs apart to make room for him, smirking above you, eyeing you up as if you were a piece of meat, his prey, “This really does look pretty on you...” he rubbed the flimsy spagetti strap between his fingers, “but it’s served it’s purpose.”

You screamed, holding onto his wrists as he ripped the babydoll in two pieces, revealing your breasts to him, he yanked at it, throwing the remains away.

“That’s much better,” he gritted, pinching one of your peaks, capturing it in his mouth and suckling at it to his hearts content.

You pouted as you looked at the torn cloth, a bit upset that he ruined his gift to you. “I really liked that...” you sniffled. But couldn’t really ponder because Andy’s ravenous mouth was sucking hickies all over your breasts.

“I’ll buy you another one. I’ll buy you ten more,” he bit into the side of your breasts, your mewls and whines were like music to his ears.

“Andy...” you heaved, “Don’t leave marks... I have to go to dinner tomorrow to moms...”

He stopped abruptly, propping himself up above you and you were afraid that you had upset him, “You’re my wife now, honey. Your father gave you to me,” his hand snaking down your body, between your legs, he parted your moist lips, the pad of his fingers meeting your little pearl, “I can do whatever I want with you,” he reminded you, pushing a finger into you, “This cunt is mine now, got it?”

“Yess...” you whined as you squirmed under him, the invasion of his finger inside you too alien to your body.

“Which means you ask for permission before you touch yourself, or better yet, don’t touch yourself because that’s my job,” he stated.

“Have you ever made yourself come?” he asked, trailing soft kisses down your body till he settled between your legs, moving the strong of the thing to the side so he could get a better look at your virgin pussy, adding another finger inside you, your snug walls clinging to his digits, “You’re so fucking small. Can barely fit my finger. How will you take my cock,” he teased.

He’d make you take it.

You whimpered at the sting of it, “I’ll try, daddy...” throwing your head back as you massaged your breast.

You propped yourself up on your elbows, looking down at him when he stopped his ministrations, “What’s wrong?”

“What’s wrong?” he quirked a brow. “Do you realise what you just called me?”

You simply shook your head because you hadn’t really called him anything, “Andy?”

“No,” he huffed, “You called me daddy, honey.”

You gasped, you didn’t mean to say it out loud! “No...” you shook you head from side to side, trying to pull away from his fingers still knuckle deep inside you, “It can’t be!”

“Oh, but you did,” he laughed, “And you’re gonna say it again. In fact, from now on, when it’s just the two of us that’s the only thing that you will call me. Unless you wanna get punished...”

“Okay...” you said, still a bit unsure of it all.

You had always called him ‘daddy’ in your fantasies. It was maybe a bit expected for it to slip out like that but still so embarrassing. You said it again just to make sure that he actually wanted you to call him that and wasn’t just teasing you.

“Good girl,” he winked, latching his mouth around your clit, fucking you with his fingers as he kept sucking.

“Daddy...” you whined, biting on your hand to muffle some of your noises, a knot building up in the pit of your stomach, “Don’t stop, please!”

You gushed over his mouth, he lapped it all up, making sure nothing went to waste.

“You did good, honey,” he said, your cheeks heating up when you saw his beard glistening with your juices. He rolled your thong down your thick thighs, “You wear this to dinner tomorrow,” he told you. “Since I’m going to be a real husband from now on I pick out what you wear.”

All so he could see you in those pretty flowy dresses you wear sometimes, but you didn’t need to know that.

He hastily pushed his sweats and briefs past his hips, throwing them off the bed before pulling his t-shirt over his head.

You bit your lip at just the sight of him. His shoulders so broad, chest so wide, dark hair dusted all over his chest, you just knew then that all those hours he spent at the gym paid off, you knew he’d be ripped.

But you absolutely did not expect, someone as uptight as him to have numerous tattoos all over his torso.

Something inscribed in Sanskrit on his chest that you didn’t really understand... the logo of your family’s mob on just under his pectoral.

You sat up to get a better look at them, tracing a skull on his bicep that looked much less sophisticated than the others, the lines a bit scribbly, it was already fading.

“That’s the first one,” he interrupted you, “I was a kid back then, got my foster brother to do it.”

You pressed a kiss over it, “I love it.”

His blue eyes beamed at you, he was so beautiful...

“Now for your gift...” he circled your wrist bringing it down to his pelvis.

“Hm?” you looked down, tears brimming up in your eyes as you saw your name written on just beside his hipbone, next to his hard cock, standing tall against his stomach. In a small heart, dark ink against his pale skin, “When did you get it done?” you sniffles, touching his skin to feel the texture of the tattoo.

“A few weeks ago. I just... I’ve never belonged to anyone. Never had a family of my own. But now I have you, and you have me, I’m just as much yours as you’re mine,” he confessed, finally feeling the weight of it lifted off his shoulders. You were a blessing in disguise.

“I love you,” you beamed up at him.

“I love you too, doll, now come on,” he pushed you till you were on your back, “Daddy’s waited long enough. Can’t wiat to fill you up, make you mine.”

He planted a hand on the mattress, so he could see what he was doing to your virgin cunt, look at you and her, as he defiles you and makes you a woman, his thick manhood nudging your glistening lips as he eased into you, he felt you stretching around him, your face twisted in pain as you begged him to go easy on you, he halted when he felt your barrier.

He looked up at your pretty face, sparkling with his spend and your tears, your sweet little whimpers filled the room, he stayed still for a moment to let you get used to him, he knew he should take it easy.

His wife was a delicate, fragile, sweet little girl. He should be more gentle. A better husband and man would be. But he had his whole life to become a good man for you, tonight he just wanted to take what was rightfully his.

Letting out a deep, almost animalistic growl, piercing through your seal, your innocence till you were screeching, your nails drawing blood from the sides of his thighs.

“It hurts!” you screamed.

“It’ll only hurt for a little bit, doll. Just ride through it,” he cooed, stroking your sensitive clit to draw your attention away from the pain, he withdrew his hips before snapping them back till he was deep within your womb.

“You’re so snug, honey,” he grunted, not letting up his pace as he kept fucking into you,

A proud smirk gracing his face as he looked down to see himself covered in blood, a sticky mess of both your bodily fluids where your sexes were joined. His dick somehow grew harder inside you knowing how he took something from you that you’ll never be able to give someone else.

Slowly your crying and whining was subsiding as you got used to have him inside you, but he wanted to hear you scream for him in a different way. “Don’t you want to make your husband, no, your daddy happy, honey?” He asked, each word punctuated with a deep, harsh thrust into you.

You nodded, willing your tears away, cringing when you saw his crotch covered in your blood, “Yes I do, daddy. What do I do?”

“Your cute dumb brain always needs to be told what to do,” he chuckled, moving closer to you he circled his palms around your wrists, pinning them above you, “Wrap your legs around me.”

You followed along, wrapping your legs around his hips and hooking them together on his back. Closing your eyes when you felt your body seizing up, your pussy pulsating around his length when you felt the familiar feeling creep up on you.

“Look at me!” he barked and you immediately opened your eyes, “You look at me when I fuck you.”

You gulped and dared not close your eyes again. Even as you felt your orgasm wash over you, clenching around his length. His face was scrunched up, his neck, face and chest flush as he chased his own release till you felt his warm release coating your walls.

He collapsed above you, panting beside you he kissed your hair, “You liked that, babygirl?”

You let out a meek little yes. Feeling empty and void of his warmth and hardness when he pulled out of you before settling next to you.

“But...” you trailed off. Not finding it in you to bare yourself to him like that just yet.

“But what?” he whipped his head to look at you.

“But I’m sorry if I wasn’t very good!” Since you had simple laid there and took whatever he gave you. You had heard that men don’t like that...

“Don’t worry, honey, you were absolutely perfect,” he sighed. “You’ll get even better with practice, we’re gonna practice a lot from now on.”

You tried to cover your breasts up with the comforter, still awkward about being stark naked right next to a man, a man who looked as good as like Andy, but he swatted at your hands, reprimanding you and telling you to stay still and let him look at you to his hearts content.

Soon you felt your cunt throbbing back up again, still so raw from the loving Andy gave it, you tried rubbing your legs together to ease it a little bit.

“It still hurts?” Andy asked as you nodded.

He snaked a hand between your legs, massaging your little nub and your lips, tutting when you tried to pull away from his touch, “Shh I’m trying to make it hurt less.”

He hummed when he saw his seed leak out of you, pushing a finger in you, much to your displeasure, to keep it inside you, where it belonged.

He would make you go on some form of birth control as soon as he could. While the idea of you all round and plump with his kid was more than appealing, he didn’t want to share you with anyone else just yet. You were young, he had plenty of years to breed you.

“You’d make a good mother,” he wondered out loud.

“Hm?” you blinked at him. Squirming from the torture he was yielding on your overworked sex. His lips curled up in a twisted smile as he pulled his fingers out of you, wiping your blood on your soft nipples, painting them crimson as you shivered.

You looked at his cock, hard again against his stomach. “Does it hurt?” you asked, your hands twitching to touch it again.

“Yes, it does. Do you wanna help me get rid of the pain?”

“Mm... can I use my mouth again? I’m sore...”

“It’s okay, honey, you’ll get used to it,” he promised, grabbing your hips and pulling you on top of him, your palms pressed into his abdomen as you looked so wrecked, “Guide me in,” he ordered.

You shook your head which earned you a harsh slap on your ass so you held onto the base of his cock, parting your intimate lips, before slowly sinking down on him.

You sighed as you settled, sitting on top of him with his cock nestled inside you, so full and strangely satisfied, his warmth soothing your aching walls, he spanked you again to remind you to move, so you started bouncing on top of him the best you could.

His hand groped at your bouncing titts before he wrapped a hand around your throat, applying the slightest bit of pressure as you whimpered and cried, just to remind you who’s in charge, not that you’d forget anytime soon.

His only regret was that he hadn’t done this sooner. He was an idiot to ever resist an angel like you. He’ll have to do a lot to make up for lost time.

Tags will be in the reblog! Click the link in the bio to be join the taglist or shoot me an ask/dm. Comments and reblogs are really appreciated! ❤❤

Please note that my work is not to be reposted or published anywhere other than my Tumblr or AO3 account without my permission. Reblogs are most welcome though!

#happyhoelidays2020 #andy barber x oc #andy barber x y/n #steve rogers x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #chris evans x reader #defending jacob fanfic #mob!andy barber

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littlemisslipbalm · 5 years ago

Text

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe.

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #enemies to lovers #dwd!harry #idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk #pls leave feedback and reblog

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beels-burger-babe · 4 years ago

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Hi! I saw that requests are open, if it's not a problem could i request Satan reacting to MC coming to him with new books every time they hang out because they want him to read them out loud since they have a short attention span? Like, Satan would be reading said book while MC is drawing or doing something else.

I have adhd and reading books that are not digital is a nightmare for me, so him reading out loud would be pretty relaxing.

Btw it's up to you if you wanna do headcanons or a oneshot!

ABSOLUTELY!!! So this is actually my first request and I'm super excited because as someone who also has ADHD I can totally relate! I hope you like it!

Too Still, Too Quiet

GN!MC with ADHD Summary: Satan notices that MC seems to have a hard time hanging out with him; he's determined to get to the bottom of the issue and find a solution.

After living in the House of Lamentation for nearly a year, you've grown accustomed to the many quirks that came with living with the seven Lords of the Devildom. You had gotten close to the brothers, and as they picked up on your symptoms for your ADHD, they each found their own ways of being helpful. Lucifer had always known, as it was written on your file, and made a point of sending you subtle reminders throughout the day to keep you organized and on task. He brushed it off saying that it merely prevented him from having to go after you later on if you forgot or did something incorrectly. Mammon was no stranger to having a hard time prioritizing and staying focused and took pride in lending you some of the different tools he used to fidget with. After all, his human deserved the best, and you couldn’t get any better than using something that belonged to the great Mammon. Leviathan’s room provided a relaxing atmosphere with just enough stimulation to keep your brain satisfied enough to focus on your school work and tasks. The sounds of the aquarium provided a fantastic back ground noise, and Levi always took caution in wearing his headphones when he gamed if you were working in his room to not add to the distractions around you. Asmodeus had a good eye for when you were growing too frustrated by the regular chaos that tended to fill the House of Lamentation and would pull you aside to his room for some self-care to help calm you down. There was nothing like a head message and face mask from Asmo as he happily gossiped about the latest drama in The Fall to help ground you. Beelzebub, on the other hand, was great at noticing when you were starting to grow restless. In those moments, he’d not-so-subtly state that he was heading to the gym and it’d sure be nice if he had someone to join in before very obviously making eye contact with you. At first you had a hard time figuring out a good balance between a work out that satisfied Beel while also not killing you. But now the two of you easily worked with each other until you were both sweating, smiling, and happy. He also made sure to remind you to eat through out the day whenever you went to a round of hyper-fixation on something. Belphegore wasn’t particularly helpful when it came to your forgetful spells or disorganization as, being the Avatar of Sloth, he would normally encourage such behavior. Instead, he did what he did best, and helped put your wandering mind to ease whenever you were trying to sleep. The only person, and not for a lack of trying, that you just couldn’t seem to find a flow with was Satan.

He was too quiet and organized for you to be able to stand being around him for long periods of time. You had tried hanging out with him a couple of times, but after a few minutes of him silently reading or him explaining whichever text he was currently studying, you would grow restless and distracted. Which brought you to your current situation. Satan had invited you to come relax in his room with him, as the rest of his brothers were dealing with the aftermath of their most recent dilemma. It wasn’t so bad at first, some light conversation here, some banter there, but soon your mind started to wander off to the spines of the endless books around you as you pondered on what might be inside them. “MC?” Your attention snapped back onto Satan, who stood frowning at you. You blushed and scratched the back of your neck. “Oh, I’m sorry. I got a little distracted. What were you saying?” Satan sighed as his frown deepened. “I’ve noticed that tends to happen a lot with you. Not that there’s anything wrong with that!” He quickly amended raising his hands in defense. “But it seems particularly bad when you’re with me. You get quite jittery and I don’t think you’ve ever stayed in my room longer than ten minutes,” for a second his eyes almost looked sad as he looked over at you, “Is it something I’m doing? Do I make you uncomfortable?” “No! Satan, no, it’s not you I promise!” You quickly reassured moving closer to him. “It’s just well I have a hard time staying still and focusing on things and when it gets too quiet it bothers me because then my brain is like hyper fixating on the smallest noises in the room, even though I’m supposed to be focusing on what you’re saying or my work, and it’s like, is that a page a turning or a something scratching at the door and then I start wondering about what kind of things could be in here and-” “MC.” Satan cut off, though he didn’t seem annoyed. In fact, his eyes now gleamed with a sense of understanding. “Do you happen to have ADHD?” “Yeah, I thought you all knew? Lucifer told all of you when I arrived right? That’s why everyone is so-” you moved your hand in a vague gesture that even you weren’t entirely sure what it was meant to symbolize. Satan huffed and shook his head. “Lucifer did no such thing. I imagine he would’ve told us if it came to be a big enough problem. But you know him. He takes pride in being the only one to know certain things. “ You frowned and tilted your head in confusion. “But then what about the others? They’ve all been helping me out for months now.” Satan placed a hand under his chin in thought, “They most likely took note of individual symptoms and decided to help. Belphegore, and possibly even Leviathan and Asmodeus may have put two and two together, but the rest probably think you’re just forgetful or that you’re restless,” he smiled reassuringly at you, “but that’s besides the point. Now that I know, I can help make you feel more at ease when you’re with me. What’s the main issue that you-” “It’s too quiet!” You quickly cut off, causing Satan to raise an eyebrow. “When we’re in here relaxing and you’re just reading and I’m supposed to be reading too, it’s too quiet. I try to focus on the book, but my mind keeps jumping around to other things. And I want to read all those books you’ve recommended to me, I really do, but I start feeling bored after a little while and next thing I know I jumping sentences without noticing and then I’ve gone an entire chapter with no recollection of what I’ve just read because I wasn’t really paying attention to the words at all I was just flipping pages without realizing it, so I have to go back and re-read the whole thing all over again!” You throw your hands in the air in frustration. “Is exhausting and makes me feel dumb, so I get up and do something else instead.” Satan nodded, taking in every word carefully. “Well first of all,” you yelped as he flicked your forehead. “Ouch! What was that for?!” The demon smirked and crossed his arms over his chest. “For calling yourself dumb. Just because you have more difficulty with literature than others, does not mean you’re dumb. You simply require a different reading strategy than what most consider “usual”, and I believe I have a solution that would suit both of us,” you perked up at his words. “I recommended those books to you because I greatly enjoyed them myself. How about, when you’re here, you can choose a book you want to read, and I will read it out loud for you? That should help, yes?” A light airy warmth filled your chest at just how accommodating Satan was willing to be. “But what about the books that you were reading?” The demon shrugged, “I can always read them in my spare time.” He moved closer to take your hands into his, silently demanding your full attention. “I want to spend more time with you and get to know you better. I want you to be comfortable and be able to be yourself when you’re around me without feeling stressed. This is honestly the least I could do for you, MC.” Blushed rushed to your cheeks as you felt your heart flutter in your chest. You awkwardly cleared your throat and took your hands back, rubbing them on your legs as you noted how clammy they were. “I think I-I would like that a lot” The grin on Satan’s face widened as he took one of your hands and lead you deeper into the bookshelves of his room. “Splendid! Then why don’t we get try right away? Take you pick, MC, I will be your narrator for the evening and for as long as you wish.” ***** I hope this was something along the lines of what you were looking for! It is a little short, but I hope you like it. Thank you so much for the request, I loved it! Requests are OPEN and I would definitely love to complete some more if anyone has any ideas or prompts that they’d like me to complete. Just send in an ask and, if I feel comfortable with it, I’ll do my best to make a fic for it!

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imagining-in-the-margins · 5 years ago

Text

Play Dates (S.R.)

Summary: Reader finds out Spencer hasn’t had enough dates to play Best/Worst Date with the team and offers several Play Dates, but quickly realizes it’s hard to have a bad date with Spencer Reid. Couple: Spencer Reid/GN!Reader Category: Fluff Content Warning: Mutual pining, kisses Word Count: 7.8k

MASTERLIST

Every single friend knows that the easiest way to feel bad about yourself is to put yourself in a conversation with a bunch of happily-coupled people. It’s the perfect blow to the ego every single time.

For example, when you are sitting around a table with all of your work colleagues sharing terrible pizza, do not, under any circumstances, ask them about their dating stories. Because no matter how interesting you think your dating life might be, the stories always end the same for the single friend.

‘It didn’t work out.’

Your friends, though, will always have the funny stories. The kind with happy endings. Not you, though. You’re just sad and alone.

Okay, that’s a little bleak. Truthfully, it was fun listening to my coworkers talk about their best, worst, and favorite dates with their partners or spouses. As members of the BAU, they had no shortage of stories about bad timing; it was practically a job requirement. And they seemed entertained enough by my horror stories. Out of all of us, I actually think I talked the most, which was strange, because there was someone else present at the table who normally took on that role.

“What about you, Reid?” I finally gathered the courage to ask, hoping that he might give me an excuse to not further embarrass myself.

But the boy wonder seemed to be a million miles away, and when he heard his name, he only barely registered I was talking to him at all.

“Hm? What about me?” he asked, absently stirring more sugar in his mug.

“Best, worst, and favorite date?”

“I don’t think I really have any,” he admitted with a shrug. It was the kind of dismissal that hid a mountain of insecurities. I know because it was precisely the same one that I had given several times during the conversation.

“Were they all really that boring?” I pushed, trying to find something, anything, for him to talk about.

“No, just... nonexistent,” he said with a nervous chuckle.

Thankfully for the two of us, awkward and slightly stupid for having taken part of this conversation at all, Luke chimed in just in time. “I’m telling you, man, you just gotta stop being so married to your job.”

JJ, however, had her own brand of advice.

“Or... you could find someone in it. Here.”

Reid shifted uncomfortably, his throat clearing and his hands shaking ever so slightly as he brought his mug to his lips. He was buying time to come up with some excuse. I didn’t blame him. After all, if we were talking about inter-bureau dating, there was only one other single person in the room.

“I think the selection pool here is a little scarce,” he explained.

But then I realized something. There was only one other single person in the room. A person with time to kill and fun company to be made. A person that I greatly enjoyed spending time with, and a person that I could have a happy ending with. Not necessarily falling in love and having babies and all that — just a friend. A friend who’d never had an experience with something that I carried only tainted memories of.

Reid and I were the only two single people in the room, and he couldn’t play the game. Yet.

“I’ll do it!” I blurted out into the group that had already breached another topic of conversation.

Reid turned to me with a look of pure confusion, his hands hugging the cup closer to his heart as he replied, “… W-What?”

One glance around the room revealed that everyone else had a similar thought. Of course, I realized then that they couldn’t actually read my mind or hear the thoughts I’d been pondering over.

“Oh, calm down everyone,” I mumbled, sinking into my chair in defeat for just a second before I forced my back straight again. Reid was still watching me when I continued, “I just meant that we could go on practice dates like... test runs.”

They were all still staring at me. So, naturally, I deflected with a bit of a joke.

“A play date, if you will,” I announced with a wave of my hand in Reid’s direction. Even if it hadn’t worked, it would have been worth his tiny little smile that he quickly hid with a pout. But of course it had worked, because it was hilarious.

“Oooh, that was clever!” Emily excitedly interjected.

“Thank you.”

While everyone else seemed to accept my explanation, Reid was still stuck in place. I could practically hear his heartbeat through the pulse in his now very red neck. Part of me felt a little guilty to do it in front of everyone, but in my defense, I simply hadn’t thought about it longer than it’d taken me to say it.

“Why would you want to go on dates with me?” he asked, and I realized he had also needed to work up the courage.

“Because it would be fun,” I answered nonchalantly before letting a devilish grin grace my lips, “I get to torture you with at least one intentionally terrible date.”

And in true BAU fashion, I had forgotten that the rest of the group was as equally sadistic as me when it came to teasing. Luke did not miss the chance of a lifetime when he interjected again.

“As opposed to the normal, unintentionally horrible ones.”

But I was ready this time. “Shut up, Alvez. I’ll kill you,” I threatened, quickly pointing the plastic butter knife in his direction only to find he was already halfway out the door.

“Fine,” he sang, “We’ll leave you two alone to plan your date.”

It only took seconds for the rest of the room to clear, leaving a mortified Reid and a deeply regretful me alone together. Well, ‘regretful’ sounds mean. It wasn’t like I wished I hadn’t said it, I just wished that I hadn’t said it in front of the rest of the team, who would now be expecting a story from both of us.

“Sorry if I made you uncomfortable,” I offered to the man now rocking back and forth on his feet and tapping his finger against the mug.

“It’s fine. I’m not uncomfortable,” he blatantly lied.

“You’re bright red.”

Reid cleared his throat and averted his eyes in two of his most obvious tells. Then, just to be sure that I knew for a fact he was lying, his voice jumped an octave as he squeaked, “I said I’m not uncomfortable.”

“Okay, well…” If he was going to be like that, it just made me feel bad. Like I was forcing him to hang out with me. God, I was lonely. And pathetic on top of that, if the only way I could get someone to hang out with me outside of work was to bully my coworker into it. I stood with a sigh, passing by him with a forlorn smile as I told him, “You can just forget it if you want.”

But then he finally moved, his arm shooting out and grabbing hold of mine before either of us moved another inch. “Hey, wait!” he called as if the grip wasn’t enough. Just as quickly as he’d gripped me, he released me again. With small, forceful bursts of breath, his tongue tied in his mouth for a moment longer. Then, in the quiet of the conference room, he mumbled back a familiarly pathetic response.

“... What kind of ‘play dates’ are you considering?”

My eyes lit up as I replied, “They’d be a surprise.”

“Even the bad ones?” Reid winced, which earned the first laugh from me. The tension and the awkwardness melted into the sound, and soon enough it felt just like it always did when we were together.

Comfortable. Fun. Safe.

“Yep,” I said with a pop of my lips, “Are you up for the challenge?”

“I feel like I’m going to regret my answer either way,” he teased.

I took a moment to analyze the space between us. I saw the way his hand that had touched me twitched softly at his side, seeking something else to hold. I felt the tingling of my skin where he had been and heard the rush of blood and the rhythmic metronomes of our hearts as ambient noise.

“All in or fold,” I sang along to the beat, “It’s up to you.”

“Fine. But only because you used a poker metaphor, and you’re terrible at poker,” Reid laughed, “I can definitely beat you at that.”

Already having forgotten about the dates and the dares and the desire, I scoffed, “Only because you count cards, jackass!”

Reid, however, was positively beaming as he passed me. Any sign of nerves had left him and been replaced with an uncharacteristic confidence. Like he’d seen something in that moment that told him everything would work out in his favor. I don’t think it was the poker metaphor, either.

“Let me know when it’s time for our date!” he called from the other side of the door, fleeing before we could change our minds.

“I hate you!” I blatantly lied.

Fairy lights, bed sheets, and a laptop that definitely posed a fire hazard were all the ingredients for the first date night with Spencer Reid. I decided that, no matter how excited I was to take him on an absolutely ridiculously terrible date, it was better to ease him into the experience. Because I mean, most men that dated me ended up leaving even when I meant for them to be good.

And I was nervous. I hated that I was nervous and that I felt like my reputation or my friendship was on the line. This was nothing but a social experiment; a fun way to pass the time. So why did my heart skip a beat when I heard him knocking on my door? Why did I bolt over to it so fast that I almost couldn’t stop in time?

When I opened the door, my heart didn’t change its tune in the slightest. It stubbornly continued the hard, irregular pounding, even as he stepped into my apartment with wide eyes and a goofy grin.

“Oh... wow. What’s all of this?” he asked as if it wasn’t obvious.

“What does it look like?”

Spencer took a minute to fully take in his surroundings before sharing his astute observation. “Pizza and a pillow fort.”

“You hit the nail right on the head,” I chuckled right before the room went quiet. It wasn’t exactly awkward; it was more strange than anything, feeling so comfortable standing in silence with him in my apartment. The only thing I wasn’t really sure of was the social rule for touching him.

If he had been anyone else, I would have wrapped my arm around his and dragged him into the fort in no time at all. But he was… Reid. I couldn’t do that with him. So, we ended up just standing there in the ambient light until he got the courage to ask what he’d clearly been thinking since he walked through the door.

“... you know I can’t fit in there, right? It’s less than half my height.”

I was prepared, having anticipated his rebuttal. Putting my hands up and pointing my fingers like our service weapons, I used the most serious voice I could muster to order, “Then you’d better get down on the ground, Doctor.”

After his third slow blink, I figured he might need some help.

“Get down!” I shouted again, this time through laughter.

“Oh, you’re serious?”

“Would I break out the big guns if I wasn’t?” I asked, prodding him in the side with my two index fingers until he’d finally started to laugh back. I kept going, encouraged by the sound and the knowledge that he was, in fact, ticklish.

“I honestly have no idea,” he answered as he finally dropped down on to the ground.

I took a minute to follow, watching as he nearly slipped on the sheets a total of three times in the five feet of distance. I decided then that the sight of the tall, gangly idiot trying to climb into the pastel assortment was honestly enough for me to count the date as a success.

I figured that he would probably need more convincing, and so for approximately three hours, we watched whatever he wanted. I had sort of expected at least one romantic movie— a foreign one, of course— but that never happened. Instead, we watched a collection of lectures and black and white shorts.

I had more fun than I would ever admit to him. However, I also was already planning on a future date where we would watch everything that I wanted to, which would certainly change the way he viewed me forever. The thought brought me an unimaginable joy all the way up until I realized that I had been planning a date that was never going to happen.

This was, I reminded myself, a one-time thing. Well, a three-time thing. Three dates, three plans, and it would be over. I’d already mapped everything out, so there was no need to plan for any other future with Reid.

So why did I want to?

There were limited opportunities to distract myself in the current situation. The only things, in fact, were a speech on black holes and Reid’s very adorable stomach. He hadn’t even noticed the way his shirt had ridden up as he laid on his side propped up on one arm.

I couldn’t be blamed for my weakness. It was too cute not to touch it. As soon as I did, however, the poor guy almost brought the whole fort crashing down on top of us.

“Stop!” he whined much too loudly for the proximity, “You know I’m ticklish!”

“I do?” Despite his belief, the information was new to me. And now that I had that information, I was going to use it.

“So you’re saying that if I just... do this—”

He recognized his mistake approximately three seconds too late. I was already on the move, throwing myself in his direction with my hands sneaking up his shirt. I hadn’t thought of it until then, that I’d never really heard him laugh. He’d chuckle every now and then, but usually it was short-lived and sort of solemn. But not that time.

There, on a date with me in a poorly constructed pillow fort that was already toppling over, Spencer and I were absolutely lost in a sea of sheets and giggles. At some point, his hands had also found their way to my sides in the mess. The soft, quick rhythm of his fingertips against me didn’t only tickle, it caused a brand new emotion to spark inside me.

That emotion, I realized quickly, was a far more dangerous one.

“Okay, okay!” I shouted, pushing myself away from him and digging my way out of the sheets, “I surrender! You win!”

When he poked his head out from under the sheets, I couldn’t help but laugh at the bird’s nest that had formed on his head in the struggle. While I was busy laughing, that bastard was playing dirty, sneaking his hand through the sheets to grab my thigh when I least expected it.

“Hey!” I shrieked, bursting into another fit of giggles.

Reid just shot a toothy grin, and that worrying feeling of butterflies and danger filled my heart again at the sight.

“It’s not fair, you know,” I said through a pout, “Your hands are bigger than mine.”

I’d apparently forgotten about his competitive side, and a part of me was glad that I had. If I had known he was going to take it so seriously, I might have never started the tickle war in the first place. Then where would we be, if it wasn’t tangled together in bedsheets, reaching through the darkness to find one another?

Oh no, I thought as I realized where we were. Reid seemed none the wiser at what a precarious position we were in. He was too busy gloating.

“I won fair and square, and you know it.”

When I rolled my eyes in response, he pressed forward in his mission to torment me as a result of my surrender.

“What do I get for winning?”

I considered all the different ways I could answer. I thought about what I would do if he was anyone else in this position with me, but my mind went blank. Because the truth was, I couldn’t imagine being there, feeling that way, with anyone else but him. Then the problem became the second train of thought, which were the things I really wanted to say to him.

I was taking too long to answer, and he was waiting with that gentle smile and his hand still resting against the bare skin of my thigh.

“One wish. Anything you want. I’ll make it happen.” I decided that answer was safe enough. At least then whatever he decided would be his decision and not mine. If anything went wrong, he would be the one to blame. Although, in my heart, I knew that I could never hold a grudge against him.

There was a certain innocence about the way he scrunched his face in thought. I don’t think he even noticed the way he tapped his fingers against my leg or the quiet hum that filled the air.

“How about…” he whispered when he finally spoke with a cheeky little grin, “sleeping in a real bed?”

“Oh, thank god. I can’t feel my legs,” I muttered back, beginning the arduous process of freeing us both from the wreckage.

If it had been anyone else, I would’ve taken the suggestion differently. For sure, I would have taken it as a promiscuous proposition and probably kicked the guy out. But there was no way that Reid would mean something so lewd. Especially not on our ‘first date.’

Any lingering concern for that unlikely, but possible, timeline was quickly remedied when he dropped into the bed with me, pulling a pillow between the two of us to form a barrier. I didn’t mind. I sort of appreciated the gesture, despite the way my eyes kept roaming back down to the sight of his hands that had been touching me moments before.

I wondered if he wanted to cuddle, but I was too scared to ask.

“Well, Dr. Re—” I paused. After a few seconds ticked by, I tried a new name, instead, “Spencer.”

A dopey smile crept over his features that he tried to hide by biting down on his lip.

“Well, what?” he whispered back.

Shimmying closer to him, I tried to stop myself from getting excited at the way my heart beat harder when his arm around the pillow brushed up against my own. It was impossible to tell if it was only in my mind, but I swore he moved closer, too.

“Here we are,” I sighed happily, “You’ve managed to get me in bed with you on the first date.”

The innuendo was, only a little surprisingly, not lost on him. He clearly took it as more of a tease than I’d intended, but he managed to keep up the lighthearted tone.

“Funny. I’m pretty sure this isn’t what that means,” he responded.

“No?”

“Pretty sure.”

The both of us were laughing again, and my legs started to sweep through the sheets like magnets to metal. They didn’t stop until I’d found him. My toes pressed against the fabric of his mismatched socks he’d insisted on wearing, and that only made me laugh more.

“This is nice, too, though.”

I hadn’t realized I’d said it out loud until Spencer had already responded, “Yeah, it is.”

Together, we soaked in the moment and the little body heat available in the two points of contact. The footsie under the covers wasn’t in my original plan for this date, but I was willing to be flexible. Especially when he seemed so happy about it, his eyes bouncing back and forth from the pillow back to my eyes.

“Better enjoy it while it lasts, Spencer,” I slurred sleepily, “Considering next is gonna be the worst date.”

His response wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t even the words that surprised me. It was the fact he was so undeniably genuine when he answered, “Oh, I can’t wait.”

Convinced that he’d misjudging my level of cruelty, I moved closer when I dramatically opined, “You’re gonna hate it.”

“I think it’ll be alright,” he murmured shyly, the words barely recognizable from the way he buried his face halfway into the pillow, “It can’t be that bad if you’re there.”

Then I watched as the idea hit him, his head shooting up from the pillow and his hand reaching out to grab my arm in sheer panic as he asked, “Wait— you are going to be there, right?”

It was mean to laugh at his imagined horror, but there was simply no way I would be that cruel. “It would be cheating if I stood you up!” I pointed out, bringing my hand up to my chest in my own dramatic flair, “I’ve got to make it terrible by sheer force of will, not by shortcuts.”

“Good luck, then. You’re going to need it,” Spencer replied with a playful glimmer in his eyes. He wouldn’t let me forget his competitive side anymore, but he wasn’t the only one that liked to win.

“Game on.”

The air was tense but crisp with autumn coolness. Almost every muscle I could see on Spencer was tensed, and even with the chill, I swore I saw a bead of sweat on his brow.

“Okay. I believe in you. Do you trust me?” I asked, bringing my hands together in a loud clap that was meant to distract him. It only sort of worked, with the tension leaving him to nearly collapse in a mess of self-pity.

“Not really,” he answered honestly.

“Come on, Spencer! You trust me not to get you shot on a daily basis!”

Unfortunately, even my whines weren’t working, and Spencer abandoned his cause altogether as he turned to me with a cold seriousness and said, “These stakes are much higher.”

I turned to him, then back to the toy crocodile in a fake pond that led to a miniature lighthouse. I gave him a deep sigh and what I’d hoped would be a reassuring pat on the back, but it really just seemed to make him even more nervous.

“Spencer, it’s mini golf,” I deadpanned, “The only people who can witness your humiliation are 12.”

“12 year olds are very mean,” he started before I swiftly cut him off with a much louder, “Just swing!”

To his credit, he did. And he missed.

I couldn’t contain the laughter anymore. We all have a breaking point, and mine was watching him barely keeping hold of the putter that almost slipped from his hand with the force he applied.

His cheeks were bright red and puffed as he turned to me while simultaneously managing to avoid eye contact.

“Why would they take golf, which is already hard, and make it smaller?” he whined. If he was looking for sympathy, he found none. The only tears I shed were from the giggles still pouring out of me.

Eventually, after a few more seconds of embarrassment, Spencer joined in with his awkward but genuine chuckles.

“It’s not fair! I’m further from the ground!” he tried to argue.

When all that earned him was a wheezed, “You’re so stupid,” he tried again. With his arm extended with the offending club in his hand, he flashed puppy dog eyes that honestly almost worked.

“Can you just hit it in for me?” he said through pouted lips.

It almost worked, but not quite.

“No way.”

Spencer’s head and shoulders dropped in shame, displaying once again how terrible his posture really was. I let him sulk in peace for a moment, but then came up with a much more appealing idea.

“Here,” I sighed with a bold step forward.

Spencer watched me cautiously, his eyes narrowed and his body returning to its previously tense position. It was exactly what I’d expected him to do. That was yet another advantage I had. Because no matter how smart Spencer Reid was, I could tell from the way his breath hitched that he did not expect what came next.

Wrapping my arms around his body from behind, I gently placed my hands around his wrists that started to move into position.

“Let me help you,” I whispered into his ear that was flushed red to match his cheeks.

And he did. Slowly, the tension left his muscles, and he became incredibly open to my guidance. Positioning him was how I might imagine it would be for a tall, skinny human sized doll. But once I had him where I wanted him, I let him go. It was harder to do than I’d care to admit. I would blame it on his body warmth being appealing on an autumn day, but that wasn’t the whole truth.

It was something about the way he turned back to look at me over his shoulder, almost like he also didn’t want me to let him go yet. But there were other matters at hand. Very, very serious matters in the shape of a terrifying clown colored gnome.

“It’s literally just a little bump. Don’t think so hard.”

I trusted him to be able to figure it out. It turned out to be a terrible decision. Really, I should have seen it coming. But I didn’t, even when the putter swung back and smashed directly into my shin, all I saw was a very panicked and horrified Spencer trying to catch me before I fell.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” he shouted as he grabbed me despite the fact that I still had both feet on the ground. In his defense, I was doubled over— laughing.

“How are you so bad at this?!” I screeched between breaths.

“My intelligence isn’t the kinesthetic kind,” he responded sheepishly. He was trying— poorly— to hide his laughter at my suffering, but we both knew that he was grateful that I was now as miserable as him.

It was true. I was as miserable as him, which was to say that I wasn’t miserable at all. Not even a little bit.

“Are you okay?” he finally asked, his hands running down my arms as we steadied ourselves back on the cheap fake grass.

“Yeah. I’m good.” Great, actually. “Let’s try again.”

History repeated itself for another few hours. Spencer’s clumsiness never really seemed to improve, but after about the fifth missed swing, the embarrassment and anxiety faded into a comfortable fit of laughter-laden tears.

Then, exactly as I predicted, once the fears faded into fun, Spencer found his stride. All it took was one soft swing, one final thud of the ball actually colliding with the putter before it happened. Whether it was by luck or physics, it didn’t matter. All I cared about was the fact that he’d actually gotten a hole in one.

“You did it!” I shouted in a disbelief that would have been insulting if it wasn’t actually a surprise to every human being on the course.

“I did it!” he yelled back with a remarkably similar tone. But that wasn’t even the most exciting part about it. No, that honor was reserved for the wide-eyed, full faced grin that appeared on his face as he turned back to me just in time.

With all the enthusiasm in the world, I practically threw myself at Spencer. Surprisingly, he caught me, tossing the club to the side and wrapping his arms around me with a fervor I’d never expected from him.

I’d always thought he would hate surprise physical contact; I did my best to avoid it whenever I could. But this time, as the two of us stumbled and spun around on the mini golf course and only barely missed the obstacles scattered along the path, I didn’t even try to stop myself.

I kissed him. I don’t know why, but I did. The same could be said for when he kissed me back. In a way, it was the most honest I think we’d ever been. There was nothing to hide, having already shown all of our failures in the most humiliating way possible. All that was left was the unadulterated joy that came from being together.

He kissed me back, his hands tightening around me and trying to drag out the moment for as long as we could. I don’t know exactly when we broke apart, but I knew it hadn’t happened when it realistically should have.

We stayed together even when he ran straight into the mini fencing running around the course. Even when we started to laugh and scream, our bodies falling gracelessly over the edge and straight into a very shallow and very brown lake.

Wet and shrieking with something between a laugh and an actual scream, the two of us floundered in the makeshift lake without even bothering to notice the onlookers.

“Holy shit, it’s freezing!” I yelled when I finally found the breath.

“It’s September!” he so helpfully pointed out, wiping algae and dirt from his face that I’d just kissed.

I couldn’t stand it. It was just too cute, too messy, too perfect to continue. So, with a very enthusiastic hand, I splashed him with the disgusting stale water again.

“Stop that!” he whined only to do the same thing back to me seconds later.

As one would expect of two competitive dorks, the whole situation quickly devolved into a battle of splashes and screams that was only put to an end by a very angry and underpaid security guard ordering us to.

For the record, I got the last splash. Spencer would disagree, but he would be wrong. Which is the same energy I carried with us into the closest possible store. They surprisingly did not object to the two FBI agents clad in soaking wet clothes and dirt. I think it had less to do with the FBI part and more to do with the fact the poor teenagers working at the Walmart just didn’t care why we were there. They just wanted us to leave as quickly as possible.

Which, we did, because almost immediately after making it to the men’s clothing section, I’d found everything I needed. Spencer must have seen the plan unfolding before him, because he tried, and failed, to grab hold of me before I sprinted off in the direction of the ugliest sweatshirt and sweatpants combo I have ever seen on this planet.

“Oh my god,” I gasped, pulling it off the shelf and turning to the exhausted but equally excited man behind me that was already shaking his head.

“I’m buying you this,” I stated definitively.

“Absolutely not,” he tried to argue. He tried. But I was already gone, running towards the cash register with giant, hideous sweats.

“Too late!”

I knew then, from the way he smiled as he chased after me with another matching set of the sweats, that Spencer wouldn’t fight me too hard. In fact, he didn’t fight me at all. The two of us awkwardly swaddled ourselves in our new matching outfits in a public bathroom, and I wondered how the hell we would explain this to the team.

Because that was the point of this, right?

Right.

Staring at myself in the mirror while trying to comb through dirty hair with my fingers, I started to lose my smile at the thought. This was just a fun day between friends. It was an experiment. It was nothing, just two friends trying to find a story to tell.

I guess we’d found one. And it wasn’t over yet. It continued as we did an impromptu fashion show in the parking lot before sopping up the mess we’d made with cheap, shitty towels. To my surprise, the germophobe didn’t even want to head straight home to shower and change. Instead, he insisted we take the time to stop and get ice cream.

Who was I to say no? I mean, I guess I should have, considering this was obviously meant to be the worst date. But I figured that eating ice cream while covered in lake sludge wasn’t all that much better than not getting any at all.

So that’s how Spencer and I ended up sitting in his car in my driveway, sloppily eating a frozen treat on a freezing night while still damp.

“Well, Spencer, this was a disaster,” I eloquently stated with a full mouth.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he answered. But no matter how much I wanted to believe that I had succeeded in my efforts, I couldn’t believe him. Not with that big, dumb smile dimpling his cheeks and squishing his eyes.

“I guess I delivered on my promise of worst date ever, huh?” I tried, nonetheless.

Then, with a low, sneaky voice, he whispered, “Only time will tell.”

It was just silly enough to dispel that elusive sadness I’d felt since I remembered this was all just a game. Because the truth was, it didn’t matter why we were doing this. I just wanted to enjoy it while it was still here, clad in ugly sweatsuits and filled with ice cream.

“At least we got souvenirs,” I giggled, gesturing to the offensive clothing.

“And lifetime bans from Putt-Putt Planet,” he added.

“You’re welcome for that one.”

As our laughter died down, Spencer’s eyes remained fixed on my smile. I tried to will it away, to dull the shine I felt overflowing from my heart so that he wouldn’t see just how happy I really was. But even with the most herculean efforts, it remained, only dropping when my jaw dropped open in a light gasp at his touch.

His hand came up to my face, cupping it gently and turning it to him. I couldn’t understand why, my cheeks burning under his palms as my brain was too busy short-circuiting to try to come up with a question.

But then it was unnecessary, anyway, with Spencer’s thumb wiping whipped cream that had somehow managed to land on my nose. I’m sure he could feel the way the blood continued to rush to my face. The heat was so unbearable I had to close my eyes and turn away, wiping at the nothingness that remained as I immediately missed his touch.

“J-Just one more date, huh?” I mumbled.

He accepted my attempt at a distraction from the undoubtedly intimate act, and just shrugged as he asked, “Do you know what you want to do?”

“Yeah,” I admitted, biting on my tongue to stop words that came anyway, “It’s a surprise.”

“Does it involve any more golf?” he asked peculiarly through a smile so soft it almost made my heart stop.

“No, no more golf,” I answered with a small shake of my head.

“But you’ll be there?”

The easy, lighthearted laughs returned, sealing my fate and realization that I think I might have made a mistake.

“Yeah, I’ll be there,” I replied.

“Then it sounds wonderful,” Spencer said with a look in his eye that made me want to believe that I wasn’t alone. I clung to that feeling, that admiration and humor and… love.

It was love.

“Okay well... Goodnight, Spencer,” I whispered before either of us could question it again. But even when my panic and dread started to set in, all I could find in the reflection of his eyes was a solemn understanding that we could still enjoy what little time we had left.

“Goodnight,” he whispered back, “Sweet dreams.”

By the time the last date night came, I realized that I never could’ve been ready for it. It was unfortunate timing, really, because I had tried to save the best for last. This was meant to be the best date for Spencer. It was tailored specifically to his interests, and I had planned every step to be as comfortable as possible for him.

But I still couldn’t shake the nerves or the sadness that threatened to overtake everything else, and so I was very grateful that the first part of the date included a relatively lengthy car ride that demanded the man in question wear a blindfold.

It was meant to just distract him from figuring out where we were going, but I could tell from that stupid, smug grin on his face that he was still keeping track. And sure enough, after about thirty minutes of driving, he cleared his throat.

“Okay... I don’t want to ruin the mood but... I know where you’re taking me.”

I waited a second, hoping to call his bluff just to glance over and see that even with his blindfold on, he looked undeniably confident in his conclusion.

“How could you possibly know that?” I dared to ask.

“I’ve been keeping track of turns and time and I can tell how fast we’re going by the strength of the brake. Can I take off the blindfold now?”

Again, I paused, too apathetic at the result to even roll my eyes. Instead, I just sighed, “Fine. Take it off.”

But the apathy was quickly dispelled, replaced with the familiar fluttering of butterflies in my stomach as he practically squealed with glee, tearing off the little piece of cloth and leaning over the center console as he quickly asked, “Are you really taking me to the Poe Shadow Puppet Theater?”

All he got in response was, “I’m so annoyed with you.”

That was enough for him to confirm his suspicions, and before I could stop him, he’d started spouting the usual factoids about the show. I say that like I would have ever stopped him, but even if I had a reason to, I wouldn’t have. After all, there was nothing in the world that was more heartwarming than Spencer Reid talking about the things he loves.

I didn’t get a break from that point on, and by the time the show started, I thought my heart would surely burst at the way his voice danced along the octaves while he narrated the past, present, and future of the presentation.

I tried to come up with questions throughout it all, or at least a comment to prove that I was still there in the moment. But it was so hard. It was an impossible task, really. I didn’t know how I was meant to make this any better than it already was. I just wanted to ride the wave of joy with him.

So when his hand took mine, I didn’t fight it. I don’t even think he noticed he’d done it, but neither of us were going to take it back. It was just another way for him to communicate, to share everything he was feeling while he continued to whisper into my ear.

For a second, I almost even forgot that this was all meant to be for him. Because I was, without a doubt, having the best time of my life. Between his breath tickling my neck to his insistence on pulling me closer despite the armrest between us, I never wanted the show to be over.

But like all good things, it had to come to an end eventually. In a way, it felt like fate had stretched time a little bit for us. It still wasn’t enough for me, though. So I forced the slowest possible pace I could, clinging desperately to Spencer’s hand that still remained intertwined with mine.

“So... final thoughts?” I asked when the car had finally started to come into view, hoping that we could drag it out just a little bit longer.

“What do you mean?”

“Final answers,” I vaguely and poorly explained, “To the question that started this.”

Spencer’s feet came to a stop, his hand falling away from mine and making me regret yet another thing about my words. “Oh... right,” he choked, laughing a little to cover the sound.

Both of our hands returned to their respective pockets, then. It wasn’t even close to the same. Still, I was determined to end the night on a high note, so I bumped into him until the two of us were resting against the hood of the car. Together, we stared off into the bustling cityscape in a quiet that wasn’t nearly as comfortable as the previous dates.

“Let’s start with best date,” I offered, trying to bring back the energy that had gotten us so far.

“Night in,” he replied without even a millisecond of hesitation.

“Okay. I’ll take it,” I chuckled. It wasn’t what I’d planned, but I couldn’t argue with him about it. I had also enjoyed tickling the life out of him in a poorly constructed pillow fort. “Next one is favorite date.”

This time, Spencer couldn’t keep a straight face. Before he’d even said it, he was already laughing, leaning on me like a large golden retriever trying to earn himself some pets.

“Mini golf,” he said with the widest smile I’d seen from him yet.

Again, I tried to call his bluff. With a blank stare and an incredulous gasp, I shook my head in disbelief that grew with every second that passed. He was still smiling.

“You’ve got to be joking.”

“Nope,” he said with a pop of his lips.

“Spencer, you hit me with a club and we fell in a lake,” I deadpanned, conveniently leaving off what else had happened in the lake. I didn’t have to say it to see it in his eyes, though. That same loving look that had blindsided me in the car when he’d gingerly cleaned my face.

“Final answer,” he stubbornly persisted.

“Fine,” I huffed, crossing my arms and leaning against him just as hard as he had earlier. We both shook with his clever little giggles, but we didn’t stop even when we almost fell over.

I could be stubborn, too, pressing forward with my line of questioning with so much determination that I forgot to stop and think about what it meant.

“So that leaves the worst date, which would be…”

My voice fell away immediately at the realization, my throat closing in on itself as I tried to step away. I tried to make distance, but Spencer’s hand around my waist stopped me, pulling me back to him with a trembling breath.

“It’s…” he started, terrified and quiet compared to the noise around us, “It’s this one.”

I couldn’t think of what to say. Hell, I couldn’t even think of what to do. My mind and body both seemed to have gone on strike, leaving me a mess in his hands while I tried to bite back my tears.

“Oh... I’m sorry,” I managed to get out without my voice breaking. The same couldn’t be said for the rest. “C-Can I ask why?”

All I could feel then was the way his hands drifted slowly up my arms, almost cupping my face but never actually making the contact. They hung there and I could see the battle raging on behind those big toffee eyes that reflected streetlights and love.

Finally, he gave his answer, taking any hope for my heart with it.

“Because it’s... the last one.”

It wasn’t a rejection. It wasn’t an answer at all. I wanted to call him out, to demand an answer to the real question that we both needed to be answered.

Is this the end? Is this all we’re going to be?

I knew he could see the fear in my face, and as he finally closed the gap between my face and his hands, I felt the comforting warmth of him seep into my skin and try to find its way to my heart that felt so frozen over after so many years of mistakes.

But this wasn’t one of those times. It just wasn’t.

And as my eyes opened to reveal the glassy surface of tears, Spencer shook his head in objection, trying not to laugh as he started to speak with the trepidation that resurfaced for the first time since the conference room.

“This past month has been the best month of my life. I didn’t even know it could be like this. I didn’t realize—“ Spencer’s voice cut out, his lungs filling and vacating all air in large bursts as he tried to force his tongue to cooperate with his heartfelt speech that felt like a hug and a heartbreak all at the same time.

“I just really need you to know how much I appreciate what you did for me,” he said, followed by a pathetic, muttered, “Thank you.”

“Yeah, of course,” I replied breathlessly, forcing the words forward before the ability to speak was completely robbed by the tears already spilling down my cheeks. “You’re welcome.”

Then, like a man on a mission to turn my heart to dust in his grasp, Spencer pulled me forward into one last devastatingly beautiful kiss. Unlike before, there was no lake water or laughter to get in the way. We were the only two people left on Earth, wrapped up in our own universe in the middle of a parking lot in a city that forced us to recognize that time soldiered on.

And that was just it. That was the moment when both of us threw caution to the wind, losing ourselves in the comfort of each other. Because, as it turned out, the world continued even when Spencer and I loved each other.

In fact, I think we both liked it better that way.

I said it was different from the minigolf course, but it wasn’t, really. We’d been just as in love then; we just didn’t have the time to stop and think about it. Once we had, however, it devolved into the same fit of laughter and messy love. Granted, it wasn’t all that much drier as we finally broke apart to wipe dramatic tears away.

The two of us looked at each other, realizing there was only one question left to answer.

“Hey, uh... do you...” he stopped, taking the time to sniffle and build the necessary confidence to take that last leap, “Do you maybe want to... go out with me sometime?”

“Yeah, I’d like that,” I answered simply, letting the sad tears blend into happy laughter.

“Okay,” he laughed back, swallowing any residual anxiety and letting it be replaced with love, “It’s a date.”

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