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cjsinkythoughts · 4 years ago

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Suits, Dresses, and Heels

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Avenger!Reader

Word Count: 4000

Warnings: !FATWS SPOILERS!, Cursing, More Mentions of PTSD, Gun Violence, Slight Mentions of Drinking, Club Dancing (You’re all gonna hate me for that part, but I’m not sorry)

A/N: Here’s Part 4.2 - The Second Part to Episode 3 - as requested. This is a little more scene-by-scene, but there are some off-screen moments. I’ll be posting Part 4.3 (which will have the rest of the episode) later tonight.

There’s a bit more information on Reader, but not as much as the last chapter. Sharon comes in during this part, so you get to see her and Reader’s relationship.

Also, I have mixed feelings about Zemo at this point. Not in the story, the Reader’s not a fan as you learned previously, but for me personally, he’s surprised me a couple times by coming back and helping.

Anyways! Thank you so much for reading! This isn’t beta’d so excuse any mistakes! Check out my other parts before you read! Thank you again! Stay tuned, loves!

FATWS MASTERLIST

cjsinkythoughts MASTERLIST

!SPOILERS UNDER CUT!

The dress was far too tight for your liking, and showed way too much skin. Not that you didn’t like being a tease every once in a while, but for this mission, you’d rather have more cover and movement.

You had to admit though; Zemo had nice taste. The dress fit deliciously - which made you wonder how he got your size. The color and cut was devastatingly flattering. Plus, he let you do your own makeup.

Being the only female, you were in a separate area of the jet getting ready. Once you were done, you made sure to knock, even though you’d walked in on Sam changing too many times to count while on the run and had seen Bucky answer the door in nothing but a towel. It was mainly for Zemo’s sake, just a warning that you were walking in whether or not they were ready.

“Damn, girl! You clean up nice!”

You rolled your eyes at Sam, painted lips quirking up as you studied him, shooting him a wink. “You should try a mirror, Sammy.” You turned to Bucky to find him staring wide-eyed and slack-jawed at you. “What do you think, Buck?”

His mouth snapped shut and he cleared his throat, eyes exploring the dips and curves your body. “You…” He blinked once. Twice. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, his intense eyes making you heat up, before he shook his head. “You look good.” He rushed out, before spinning on his heel shoving past Sam who was snickering.

“Where’s Zemo?” You noticed he wasn’t in the main area of the plane when you walked in.

“Rearranging our ride once we get there.”

You huffed, fixing your hair. “Oh God. We’re really doing this.”

“Yup.”

“Okay.” You looked down at yourself before looking up at the boys. “Something’s gonna go wrong, isn’t it?”

“Absolutely.”

“No doubt.”

Giving a slight groan at their simultaneous answers, you nodded. “Let’s try not to screw up too badly, boys, alright? I at least want to live long enough to see Peter graduate.”

Sam rolled his eyes with a scoff. “That kid’s a punk.”

“You’re a punk.” You shot back.

Bucky raised his hand. “I second that punk thing.”

“For which one?”

“Both of them.”

You chuckled as Sam gaped at Bucky, who shrugged innocently. The former assassin tilted his head in your direction to shoot you a grin and a wink, making you laugh more. Shaking your head, you go to make a joke when Zemo walked in.

“It’s time. We’re landing now.”

And just like that, the teasing atmosphere dissipated, leaving you anxious and regretful.

*******************

You walked by Bucky, arm linked with his metal one, listening as Zemo told Sam about his “character” he was to play.

“He’s a known womanizer - always has a gorgeous lady on his arm.” Zemo gestured towards you. “It’s the only way they’d let in a woman.”

“Aren’t we going to see a woman?” You questioned, gently patting Bucky’s metallic bicep when his hold on you tightened.

“Which makes it more imperative that you don’t act threatening. Women don’t make the same mistake men do; they don’t underestimate other women.”

You nodded. He had a point there. Bucky faced you, a frown on those pretty lips. “I don’t like this.” He mumbled.

“You think I do?” You whispered back. “With you being him again? Even if it’s just pretend? And need I remind you whose idea this was?”

“I know, I know. Just…” He sighed. “Promise me you won’t get hurt on purpose.”

Your forehead creased. “Why would I-?”

“To protect people. You always do. And I get it, I do. It’s why you started this in the first place, but…save yourself first, this time, okay?”

“Buck-”

“Promise me.”

It wasn’t often you could see the fear in his eyes, hear it in his voice, but you could then. Unable to do anything else you nodded, a soft, “okay” falling from your lips. He nodded back, pressing a kiss to your head, before letting you go as a car approached.

Bucky helped you in - the heels you were wearing were no joke - before sliding in himself, Sam getting in on the other side of you. “And you two can’t be…” Zemo gestured to the two of you as the car started moving, eyeing your still connected hands. “Doing that.”

“This isn’t my first theater production.” You snapped at him. “We’ll be fine.”

He raised his hands in surrender, turning back to look out the windshield. Once you arrived, you gave Bucky’s hand one last squeeze, before accepting Sam’s hand to get out on his side, linking your arm with his like you were doing with Bucky earlier.

“I finally get to see one of your performances, baby.” Sam grinned at you.

You smirked back. “Best seats in the house, too, Smiling Tiger.” He groaned at your jest, nudging you playfully with his elbow as you giggled.

“This way.” Zemo cut in, jerking his head in the direction you’d be going. You took a breath, steeling yourself, before the three of you nodded at each other and followed his lead.

You found the fellas reactions amusing, their heads turning to study and scan everything they could see. You were more subtle in the way you analyzed your surroundings, feeling a bit more at home in this situation than, say, fighting super soldiers on top of semi trucks.

Your jaw tightened, as did your grip on Sam’s arm, when Zemo started speaking Russian, the four of you pushing through a crowded bar. Sam ran his fingers over your arms, giving your hand a little squeeze, silently reassuring you.

It was a bit obvious Sam hadn’t done much undercover work, put he stayed in character and you were impressed. Especially when the bartender started cutting up the snake, which you had to look away for because if there was one thing you couldn’t do…it was snakes. You nearly gagged when Sam reluctantly downed the drink.

Bucky eyed you, lips pursed in a way you recognized as him trying to hold in a smile. That made you feel a little better, hiding your own smile by turning into the crook of Sam’s neck. “Not. Funny.” He growled through clenched teeth, lips not moving.

“Kinda is.”

He grumbled under his breath, before the two of you tuned into the conversation between Zemo and a thug that came up, learning about the apparent power broker of Madripoor, which you a bit of from your time undercover there.

Sam held you tightly when Zemo turned to Bucky, knowing what was about to happen.

You didn’t like it. You didn’t like how easily aggressive he became. You didn’t like the little smirk Zemo gave as Bucky attacked. You didn’t like the cellphones being pointed in his direction. You didn’t like it.

“Didn’t take much for him to fall back into form.” You gave Zemo a warning glare, a shaky breath leaving you.

He’d been doing so well. At least, for someone who had been through what he had. Especially considering it’d only been a few months since he’d been pardoned - half a year since everyone came back. You knew bringing Zemo on board had been a bad idea, but-

A squeeze to your hand pulled you out of your thoughts. You let out an inaudible sigh of relief as Zemo allowed Bucky to let the man he was choking go.

“Selby will see you now.”

One step down. You hoped that would be the hardest part, but you knew it most definitely wouldn’t be.

“You good?”

Bucky sniffed, giving you two a curt nod, before following Zemo. You bit your lip. “That wasn’t really an answer, was it?”

Sam shook his head. “No. No it wasn’t.”

Selby wasn’t exactly what you were expecting, but you’d come to expect that. You stayed on Sam’s arm, giving the guards coy smiles and playing with the fake nails you had on in faux-boredom.

When she purred at the man besides you, you and Bucky glanced at each other, with you resisting the urge to scrunch up your nose. “And who is this gorgeous creature?”

Your eyes snapped back to Selby, giving her a slightly bashful smile. “Celeste Addams. Pleasure.”

“Trust me, dear. The pleasure is all mine.” Alright, you thought as she scanned you with a smirk. She was swinging for both teams. You could work with that. “What’s the offer?” She looked back to Zemo.

Zemo gave her the offer - information about the super soldier serum for the Winter Soldier and the code words to control him. Your blood boiled as Zemo touched Bucky, fingers grabbing his chin. You swore, once this whole thing was over, you would kick Zemo’s ass. You should make a list, just to keep track of all the things he’d done, and no doubt would do, to piss you off. That way he’d know why exactly you were beating his ass.

A name came up, Dr. Wilfred Nagel, along with the knowledge that the super soldier serum was, in fact, in Madripoor. You and Sam met eyes. Second step down.

But before they could get anything else, Sam’s phone buzzed. You ducked your head, closing your eyes, mumbling “fuck” when you saw it was Sarah. Sam’s responses just made you inwardly cringe even more.

“The bank, yeah. We laundered so much mo-” He chuckled nervously. “Yeah. They’ll come around.”

Is he fucking serious? For the love of God, Sammy…

And then she called him Sam. Next thing you knew, Selby was shot and you, Bucky, and Sam were taking out a guard each, you growling at the fact that you couldn’t use your legs because the dress was too damn tight.

You had no choice but to trust Zemo’s lead, but word traveled very quickly here, and less than a minute after walking outside, you were getting shot at.

“C’mon!” Bucky grabbed your arm, pulling you besides him.

“Can you not right now?!”

“I can’t run in these heels!”

You glared at Sam, the killer six inchers on your feet feeling like hell. “Hell no! You did not just say that in front of me!”

“You started it!” You scowled at him, following Bucky into an alley, only to duck as shots rang out. Chest heaving, you looked around for the source of the bullets that killed the men chasing you. Your “guardian angel” as Zemo put it.

She soon appeared in all her stunning, blonde badass glory. “Sharon?”

Sam quickly explained the situation, trying to get her not to shoot Zemo who she had a gun pointed at.

“I stole Steve’s shield, remember? I also took the wings for your ass,” she pointed the gun at Sam, then Bucky, “so that you could save his ass, from his ass.” And the gun was back on Zemo. She shot you a smile. “And your ass is looking beautiful as always.”

You grinned back. “Thanks. You’re not looking too bad yourself.”

As she spoke, your lips turned down. You had tried calling her after Germany, but it always went to voicemail. First thing you did when you got back was try to get everyone pardoned, but it was a process. And then you found out about Wanda and ever since…

Sharon was your first real friend. She was only a couple years younger than you and had been one of your first partners during your time with SHIELD. And the fact that she’d been on the run for years now, even with the Blip, her family not having seen or talked to her since…that was exactly why you couldn’t take a break. She was family and you found there was nothing more important than family. But when she needed you, you were out searching for someone who didn’t want to be found.

How were you supposed to choose between two sisters? How could you cope with the fact that you chose the wrong one?

“Sharon, we need your help.” She laughed at Bucky’s statement. “Please,”

She glanced at you and you nodded. “I’d appreciate it, Share.”

She gave a sigh before nodding. “This isn’t over. I have a place in High Town. You should be safe there for a while.”

She turned and started walking, and you were about to follow, when you remembered something.

Spinning around, your fist connected with Zemo’s cheek, Sam and Bucky shouting in surprise while the man stumbled back. “Don’t you fucking dare touch him like that ever again, or I will break every bone in your body.” You threatened, your expression twisting into a scowl as you grab his hand and bend it awkwardly. He grunted but didn’t move, knowing one wrong turn would break his wrist. “Do I make myself clear?”

“Crystal.” He ground out.

You pushed a little more, making him wince, before letting go and rounding back to Sharon, who was smirking at you. “Let’s get moving.”

“Yes, ma’am.” She jerked her head back over her shoulder to where a car was waiting, leading them over.

You quickly followed after her with Bucky on your heels and Sam dragging Zemo along. Speaking of heels, as soon as you got in the car - getting shotgun for the first time ever at Sharon’s insistence - you prodded the stupid shoes off your feet.

“Nice kicks.”

“Yeah.” You scoffed. “Unless you’re trying to kick.”

“Did you rip the dress?”

“I was tempted to.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll get you in something more comfortable. And you’ll look just as good. Not that you wouldn’t look good in literally anything.”

You chuckled, giving her a look. “Let’s not test that theory.”

She smiled back, nodding. “Fine. I’ll let you pick something out.”

Sam huffed, crossing his arms best he could, being squished with the two other fully grown men in the back seat. “Women.”

The two of you exchanged looks, rolling your eyes at the three pouting guys. “Men.”

*****************

“I’m gonna go check on the boys. But I’ll be right back.”

You nodded, looking through her closet. No dresses. And absolutely no heels. Flats, if you had to, but you’d definitely prefer sneakers right now. You decided on shorts and an off-the-shoulder blouse, grateful for the looser clothing.

“They’re idiots.”

You laughed and looked over at the door as Sharon entered. “Yeah. I know.”

“Cute.” She commented on your outfit, sitting on her bed. “They explained the situation. Sam said if I help, he’d clear my name-”

“Sharon.” You sighed, biting your lip. “I tried. I really did. I-”

She shook her head, smiling at you reassuringly. “No, I know. It’s why I’m not mad at you. Sorry I didn’t call back. How’ve you been?”

You shrugged. “Fine, I guess.”

“Even with the whole ‘Cap is back’ thing.”

“Walker’s the government’s pet. He’s not Captain America. He’s not…”

“Steve?”

Looking up at her from the ground, you nodded. “Yeah.”

“Do you miss him?”

You smirked, wagging your eyebrows at her. “Do you?”

She rolled her eyes, tossing a pillow at you. “It’s kinda weird now, isn’t it?”

“Maybe a little. But I can’t blame you. Have you seen him shirtless? Good God.”

Sharon laughed, shaking her head as you joined her on the bed. “How come it’s always you getting wrapped up in these things?”

“I have no clue.” You chuckled, crossing your legs underneath you. “First I’m answering a phone call from Bucky at five in the morning and next thing I know, I’m being kicked off of semi trucks, breaking criminals out of prisons and running in six inch heels.”

“You answer Bucky’s calls at five in the morning?”

You gave her a look. “Sharon-”

“No, no. Hey. That’s cool. Some girls like bad boys, some like jocks, others like nerds. You like super soldiers from the 40’s. Everyone’s got a thing.”

A playful shove turned into a pillow fight, which turned into a sparring session, during which you pin her on her back. “You’re getting better.” You complimented, getting up.

She glared at you, taking your outstretched hand and letting you pull her up. “I guess that’s why you’re an Avenger.”

“That’s still weird to say.”

“Why? You’ve been an Avenger since, what? Ultron?”

You nodded, straightening your clothes. “Officially, anyways.”

“Right. Because you were there for the Battle of Manhattan as the secret seventh superhero.”

“Yeah…I miss it. The anonymity. I’m pretty sure I’m one half the Senators’ speed dials.”

Sharon frowned, brows pinching together. “What about the other half of the OG? Where are they?”

“Thor’s in space, Bruce is MIA - which I can’t really blame him for - and Clint’s retired with his family.”

“You think he’s gonna stay retired?”

You shrugged. “I hope he does. He’s been trying to retire for years. He deserves it. Knowing him, though…probably not.”

Sharon crossed her arms, nodding at you. “So that leaves you.”

“Yes it does.”

“Do you ever think of taking a break?”

You gave a half-sigh, half-groan, making her smirk in amusement. “It’s…come up a lot recently. I dunno. I think I’m burning out, anyways.”

“What makes you say that? I was watching you guys with Selby. You’re still one of the best I’ve ever seen.”

“I-I’ve been having…problems.”

Her eyes narrowed, her hands setting on her hips like a mother about to scold her child. “What kind of problems?”

“Just flashbacks. Of different things. It happens at random times. Certain triggers; something someone says or does, or something I smell or hear.”

“PTSD?”

“Something like that.”

“Has it affected you in the field?” Hesitating to answer was answer enough and she nodded. “Then…maybe it’s time you do start considering retiring.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “At 36? There’s no way.”

“C’mon. It’s not too late for you to settle down. Go one a few dates. Meet someone. Maybe have a couple kids-”

“Woah, woah. Slow your roll.” Your features scrunched up in incredulity. “Pump your breaks. No one said anything about marriage or kids.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m just saying…think about it. I heard even Bucky’s been on a few dates.”

It was your turn to narrow your eyes at her, hearing the suggestive tone in her voice and seeing the eyebrow raise. “Yeah. He has. A few. I told him to. Told him it might be good for him to, I dunno, get back out there.

“Or, you could just…go out there with him.”

“Not you too! Have you been talking to Sam?”

“Is it Steve? Is that what’s stopping you? Because you know he’d just want you to be hap-” She stopped as he phone vibrated, grabbing it and reading the text. “Company’s arriving.” She pointed a finger at you. “You got very very lucky. This conversation isn’t over. I’m not dropping this.”

You bit your cheek and nodded. “Alright, mom. Can we go party now?”

She breathed out a laugh and nodded. “Yeah. Let’s go party.”

**********************

“Hey, gorgeous! There you are!”

You smirked at the boys as they met you near the top of the stairs, eyeing Sam and Bucky appreciatively. Damn, could Sam pull off a turtleneck. And Bucky in black and skinny jeans? Sharon sure had good taste. “Today’s the day for attractive outfits, huh, gentlemen?”

“I’ll say.” Bucky hummed, glancing at your own outfit. “You look beautiful, doll.”

“You look very dashing yourself, Barnes.” You grin, pulling at the lapels of his black blazer and fixing the collar. You smoothed your hand down the front of his shirt, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised when he caught your wrist, keeping your palm over his heart.

He clenched his jaw, taking a breath, before letting it out, almost dejectedly, and letting your hand go. “Um,” He cleared his throat, hand falling down by his side. “Did, uh, did Sharon say anything more about these friends of hers to you?”

“Nope.” You shook your head. “Just told me to enjoy the party.”

“I guess we should go enjoy the party, then.” Sam nodded towards the stairs, where the music was floating up, her guests already pouring in.

You made your way downstairs, looking around the room. Sharon sure did know how to throw one, that’s for sure.

People were pushed together, dancing to the beat of the music, drinking, with colored lights flashing every which way. Bucky’s hand found yours almost instantly, and you smiled at him. “C’mon.”

“What?” His eyes were wide as you dragged him towards the groups of people dancing.

“Dance with me.”

He shook his head violently. “I-I can’t.”

“I thought you used to be a dancer?”

“Used to. And I was a swing-dancer. Not…” He gestured around to the people bobbing up and down, moving their bodies with each other.

You waved dismissively, pulling him closer. “All you need to do is feel the beat. I’m sure you can do that, can’t you, Mr. Tough and Scary Assassin?”

He licked his lips, looking around nervously. You brought his hands to your hips, making his eyes snap back to yours, your own arms winding around his neck. You started moving rhythmically, nodding your head to the music, smiling up at him and giggling at the adorable concentration on his face.

“You, uh, you go to parties like this a lot?”

“I specialized in undercover operations, remember? I practically lived at these places for some of them.” He licked his lips, his grasp on your hips tightening. “Loosen up a little.” You laughed, catching his jaw between your fingers and making him look at you instead of the crowd surrounding him. You scratched at the scruff, speaking softly, but loud enough for him to hear. “It’s just me.”

He nodded and, slowly, a bit hesitant, started moving his body with yours, relaxing his tense muscles the longer you two danced.

“Nice hit, by the way. With Zemo earlier.”

You shrugged, turning in his arms, biting your lip when he pulled you closer, your back to his chest. “I didn’t like the way he grabbed you. It was unnecessary. I was thinking of making a list, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” Your arms wound around his neck again, your head falling back to his shoulder. “Of things he’s done so far that warrant’s me beating his ass once this is done.”

He chuckled, warm breath tickling your cheek, thumbs tracing circles on the bare skin just above the waistline of your shorts. Your own fingers had found home in his hair holding his head where it was, his lips centimeters away from your ear. “Share it with Sam. I’m sure he has a few things to add.”

Your breath hitched as his metal fingers danced along your bare navel, arm tightening around your waist. “I’m sure he does…I thought you said you can’t dance.”

“I guess I just needed to warm up. I’m a bit rusty after eighty years.”

“Don’t seem that rusty to me.” You breathed out, turning your head to look at him. His tongue ran across his lips again, his eyes glancing to your own.

“Hey, guys!” The world and your situation came crashing down on you, the music you didn’t realize you’d been tuning out, along with the crowd’s boisterous laughter and cheers, rushed back to yours ears. The little bubble with just you and Bucky shattered. You both stepped away from each other; you cleared your throat and pushed down the heat that had nothing to do with the hundred bodies in the one room, while Bucky rubbed the back of his neck, the tips of his ears red with no help from the colored lights. Both of you were panting lightly, avoiding eye contact with the other three staring knowingly at you. Sharon nodded her head, gesturing behind her. “I found him.”

Sam nudged Bucky - who was staring at you, his jaw ticking and his throat tightening as he swallowed thickly - before jabbing his thumb in Sharon’s direction. “Here we go.”

You nodded, eyeing Bucky with a small smile. “Here we go, Buckaroo.”

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years ago

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“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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allexthakatt · 3 years ago

Text

The Very First Kiss 🖤

not my gif^^ GIF IS BY @oneweirdcryptid

Request: "Hi so uhhh I was wondering (if you're not busy) can you do a fem!Reader x Dan avidan with lots of fluff pls (also if you can make my prompt anonymous I will love u forever)"

I'm so happy to finally be writing about Dan again. God that man is so fucking beautiful.

Just an FYI. Ashley is NOT a thing in this universe. I will not ever put her in a one shot.

Pairing: Dan Avidan x FEM Reader! Ft. Arin and Brian!

Warnings? Pure fluff! Mutual pining.

"Look. All I'm saying is that she's really cute and I wouldn't mind having her at the office more often." Dan almost immediately regretted what came from his mouth. Now he'll never hear the end of it.

Dan, Arin, and Brian had gone out for lunch to brainstorm what could be done for future projects when the topic of Suzy's best friend came up. Y/n, a beautiful woman who's captivated Dan heart from day one, was all he could think about. I mean how could he not? Just look at her! Everything about was just so... amazing. It had been a very long time since Dan felt this way about anyone. She was so sweet to him, he just couldn't help but swoon.

"I fuckin knew it! Ive been calling it since day. One. You've had goo goo eyes for her since the day Suzy brought to the house!" Arin smirked at his long time best friend.

Dan thinks of that day often. She was invited to some party Arin and Suzy were throwing. What it was for, he can't recall. What he does remember, however, is seeing a gorgeous girl wearing a black dress and flats. Her nails long and red to go with her newly dyed fire engine red hair. He remembers just how stupid he made himself seem attempting to talk smoothly to her. But she never made him feel dumb, in fact quite the opposite. She was shorter than him, obviously, and Dan caught himself shamefully thinking of her shorter body in his lap on his couch. Since then he's fantasized about kissing her almost daily. (Not just kissing, either. He'd shamefully admit to himself.) However the fear of her rejecting him almost too paralyzing for him to even try.

"So Dan when are you gonna pull your head out of ass and ask her on a date?"

The curly haired male shakes his head. "I doubt she'd even say yes. I like having her in my life. And if she says no I could lose her all together. I'd honestly rather not risk it ya know?" Brian practically spits out his drink, trying to hold in a laugh.

"You're telling you don't see the heart eyes she sends your way all the time? You're dumber than you look, jewfro." Arin cracked a chuckle at that, deciding to add in the conversation. "He's right, Dan. She probably talks about you to Suzy just as much as you bug us about her!"

"Ha ha very funny. Well then maybe I just should walk up to her and say 'hey baby. You. Me. Pizza. Tonight. Lets do it.' Yea fucking right, Arin."

In reality, y/n would love nothing more than to have a nice date with Dan Avidan himself. She has quite the school girl crush on him (or at least that's how Suzy puts it.)

"Why not? Everyone knows she'll say yes. Even if you don't, trust me we do." Brian was trying to pep talk his friend into just doing it. I mean come on Dan is almost 42 he needs to get a girl soon. Or at least laid.

It had been a couple days since the lunch talk. Dan had been running the boys' words though his head non stop. Should he really just ask her out? The odds of her saying yes was getting better and worse simultaneously. So many worries and anxieties swarming through his mind constantly. But he knows he needs to do something soon. She's absolutely breathtaking- someone will swoop in if he doesn't. But what he even say?

'Hey Y/n!' -No. Too loud.

'What's up, baby?' -absolutely not. Too cocky.

'You look lonely'- that's just creepy.

What if he just doesn't think? Thinking too much will make him not do it. So what does he do? For gods sake, he's a grown man! Get it together! That's when he gets an idea and calls his best friend.

"Arin I need to know what her favorite candy is. ASAP!"

It was cold and rainy today. Her favorite type of day. It was days like this where she would find herself sitting near an open window with all the lights off, a stereo playing soft music as she sips some hot tea she'd prepared just minutes ago. The music playing some random song from her playlist. She couldn't be more calm than in this moment. Nothing could take her away from the calamity that is this scene.

Until a knock breaks the mood.

The young woman groans and puts her tea down, mentally cursing whoever broke her away from the state she was just in. However she couldn't be mad for long as she opens her door, seeing Dan standing on the porch, hair slightly damp and frizzy. She notes that he's also panting a little. From what, she's not aware.

"Oh, hi Dan! Come in, it's cold out here." He thanks her and tries his best to dry his feet before stepping in the home. It was so warm in there. A very calm and welcoming energy captivating the whole house. Suddenly, he doesn't feel so nervous.

"I uh... Brought these for you. I hope you like roses, that's all I could find. I know you love carnations but they didn't have any." Dan hands her the roses as well as a heart shaped box of Reese's. Her favorite candy.

"Why thank you! What's the occasion?" She can't say she's complaining. However she is confused. Although this is a very romantic gesture, y/n doesn't want to get her hopes up.

"Well I... just wanted to ask you something. I've been psyching myself up for a few days now... A-and I think I should just tell you straight up. Y/n, I can't get you out of my head. Every time I see you, all I wanna do is kiss you, hug you, or some other form of affection. And I promise I'm not a creep! I just have these real strong feelings for you... And I just gotta know... Would you feel the same? I totally understand if you don't. Just promise me if you don't we wont stop being friends. I like having you around in my life and I'm so scared of fucking this up. ...

Please. Say something."

To say Y/n was shocked would be an understatement. You can't count on all your fingers and toes how many times she'd fantasized about this. How many times she'd laid in bed and thought about a life with Dan. With Dan as hers and she as his. But no matter how many times she'd fantasized, nothing came close to how she actually feels in this moment.

"Dan... Are you being serious? Please don't tell me this is a prank." She had a hopeful look in her face. So very afraid that this was a joke or even worse: just a dream.

"Y/n I promise I'm being serious. I-I get so happy when I'm with you. You're so beautiful and funny and smart... There's a million and one things I wanna do with you. Share with you. But please just tell me if I'm in way over my head here. I just... I need to know."

Y/n did the one thing she knew would drive it home. She put her arm around his neck, pulling him close. Dan stared at her with big hopeful brown eyes. "You have no idea how long I've been wanting this." The smile on her face was proof enough for him. He pulled her even closer, relishing in her sweet scent of lavender and a hint of vanilla, the shampoo and conditioner he'd got her in her birthday a few weeks ago. "If you'll let me.. I'd really like to kiss you now." And that was it. That was all Y/n needed to have her heart practically explode out of pure excitement. The way she leaned in, waiting for him to get the hint to meet her halfway. The way she slowly closed her eyes, lips practically begging to be kissed. Dan had had enough of waiting. If he'd waited a moment longer he was sure he'd pass out.

Before she knew it, their lips connected. A whole new slur of emotions hitting them all at once. She'd only dreamt of this so many times. The feeling of his soft yet rough lips on hers mixed with his scruff and cologne, it made her dizzy with adrenaline. If he wasn't pulling her so close, she was sure her legs would give out.

Dan felt like he was in heaven. There was no way any form of drug could compare to the way her lips made him feel. Lust. Love. Excitement. Adrenaline. God, his mind was pure mush. When they finally pulled away, faces flushed and hearts pounding. Dan finally remembered the question he was originally here for.

"Would you like to go on a date with me?"

"I thought you'd never ask."

------------------------

THERE YOU HAVE IT! I'm so sorry this took so long. Life has been wild. As a mom and a working wife, things have gotten a little hectic.

Please send more!!

If you'd like to request you can private message me, or leave an ask! If you'd want to be tagged in future works, you need to only ask!

Luv u all 🤍🖤

#dan avidan #dan avidan x reader #dan avidan x you #game grumps #ninja sex party #fanfic #xreader

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plus-ultra-oof · 4 years ago

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Pretty | SakuAtsu | Haikyuu!! | Tickle Fic

A/N: Ok hi so I wrote this a little while ago bc my SakuAtsu brainrot never stops and I figured I might as well share it. This is my first time posting a T-fic so please be kind lol. Also, sorry if the formatting is a mess I am on my phone.

Disclaimer: This takes place post timeskip so minor spoilers for Haikyuu! It’s nothing to major other than some vague things mentioned in passing. Also includes swearing and centers around tickling within a romantic setting (all sfw).

Summary: Sakusa’s stubborn as hell, but Atsumu is more than willing to get his boyfriend to go to sleep by whatever means necessary. Especially if that means he gets to see that pretty smile of his.

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“Ya know, yer hair is really soft Omi,” Atsumu said, breaking the calm silence that had settled over the room. It was actually Kiyoomi’s room in his apartment this time. Atsumu was lying on his bed, running his hands through Kiyoomi’s dark curls as the other man laid across the bed, head placed conveniently in the setter’s lap as he attempted to read a book. He was far too tired to do so, in Atsumu’s professional opinion. The way his eyes kept falling shut for longer between blinks and how his grip on the hardcover kept shifting until he was barely holding it open where it lay against his propped up legs supported it too.

“You already- said that,” he replied, trying for flat and uninterested but the cute yawn that interrupted his sentence completely contradicted his unbothered persona.

It’d been a long practice for everyone, but especially the spikers. Both Bokuto and Sakusa had to run an insane amount of cut shot drills on top of their usual work. Just watching it had made Atsumu tired, so he could only imagine how Omi was feeling. The man had been practically dead on his feet when they’d gotten back to their complex, so the way he had melted into their bed upon finally brushing his teeth was unsurprising. His attempts at staying up were though. Atsumu blamed that on his insistence on keeping his routine no matter what.

The stubborn bastard could barely keep his eyes open, but sure, making it through a whole chapter of that thick ass book was totally plausible.

“It’s true though,” Atsumu was quiet for a moment and then, when he got no response he added on, “and it’s so pretty too,” For that he received a half hearted glare that was dampened by the way he could feel the man leaning into his touch as his fingertips scratched lightly again his scalp. The twin smiled, his boyfriend really lost his filter when he was this tired.

Gone were the biting remarks and cold expressions, leaving him far more pliant than he would ever admit to. Hell, here he was, letting Atsumu play with his hair and letting out little sighs of contentment. His eyes were even gradually falling closed as he relaxed into his boyfriend’s touch.

The harsh lines of his face were softened by the low light in the bed room, and with his brows uncreased by any worries and his hair pooled around his head like a dark halo, he looked almost angelic. Like something out of one of those fancy paintings.

“Yer so pretty Omi,” Atsumu murmured absently, the words falling from his lips easily. It was a statement to him. A simple truth of life.

The sky was blue, volleyball was the best, and Atsumu’s boyfriend was a damn masterpiece.

This was only proved further when his cheeks began to warm, the pink flush only complimenting smooth skin and pouty lips, twitching down into a petulant frown despite his flustered state.

“Shut it,” he mumbled in reply, unable to come up with a proper comeback in his half asleep state. Atsumu smirked. Another thing he loved about sleepy Omi was his inability to disguise any of his reactions. It always made messing him even more fun.

“Omiiii, Yer so cute m’gonna dieeeeee,” he teased, leaning down to admire his expression more closely. The new angle let him see the minuscule twitch of the corner of his lips, a sign that his adorable boyfriend wasn’t really as grumpy as he was trying to appear, “Aw is that a smile I see?” Said boyfriend had abandoned all hopes of reading his book in favor of moving off of Atsumu’s lap and onto his side of the bed, laying back and closing his eyes.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about Atsumu,” he stated, his voice still managing to stay level and unaffected, a true testament to Sakusa’s insane amount of self control, “Now its late, let’s go to sleep,” Too bad Atsumu was too much of an asshole to let him be. And, he knew him well enough to chip away at that carefully crafted mask until his boyfriend was puddy in his hands.

Miya pouted and moved closer, letting his right hand come back up to rest in his curls again and the other land at his back, rubbing slow circles into it the way he knew Sakusa liked.

“Oh c’mon baby don’t be like that, I just want ta see that gorgeous smile of yers,” he let his chin rest on Kiyoomi’s shoulder, pressing close to his back as his arm trailed down to wrap around his waist. He placed a light kiss against his boyfriend’s temple. The first in a trail that led down his cheek to his jaw and then took a detour down and up his neck to reach his ear again, earning soft sighs and hums as he went. Atsumu smiled, his Omi really was sweet like this: All peaceful and relaxed and unassuming, “Do me a favor and lemme see it?”

He shifted from kissing at his neck to mouthing lightly and letting his lips graze the expanse of soft pale skin at his disposal and the reaction was immediate, even if Sakusa tried to hide it. Sure, he stayed quiet, but Atsumu could feel the shivers that ran through him when he started and how his shoulders began to shake the longer he went on. He felt him jump when he let the fingers at his waist trace lazy shape into his toned stomach.

“Atsumu-“ His name was rushed out in a breathy way that only Atsumu got to hear.

“Yes Omi?” He purred, directly into his boyfriends ear, savoring the little squeak that came from the man shaking in his arms.

“N-no,” he whined, actually whined, shaking his head in an attempt to rid himself of the tingly sensations that were quickly perforating his sleep addled mind and making him want to give into the bouncy feeling rising in his chest.

“Why not Omi? M’just tryin ta kiss ya?” He followed his movements easily, continuing the playful torment of his boyfriend.

“You- you know exActly whehy not!” The squeak was louder this time and Kiyoomi even let a few titters loose as Atsumu started using his other hand to lightly scribble at the other side of his neck while simultaneously blowing into his ear.

“Ooh was that a giggle there Omi? What’s happenin’ baby? Somethin’ funny?” Atsumu knew that if he could, Sakusa would be griping about the teasing and how this whole thing was immature and unfair. For now though, he was too busy trying (and failing) not to devolve into a ticklish mess, so Miya was content.

“Nahaha stahahap yohuhu bahahastard!” He forced out through his giggles. The sound was light and filled with gasping breathes and squeals. Kiyoomi hated it, but it was one of Atsumu’s favorite sounds. Especially when he knew he was the cause of it.

Whether it came from unraveling him like this or timing a sarcastic joke just right, he savored it each time he got to hear it, so he didn’t appreciate it when both ungloved hands flew up to muffle it.

“Hey what’dya do that for?” He asked, his own pout forming on his lips as he leaned up to see his boyfriend’s face. His eyes were squeezed shut again and the flush was even brighter now. What was really captivating though, was the way his whole face seemed to brighten, even with his open mouth smile covered up.

Atsumu couldn’t help but stop and stare for a few seconds before remembering the task at hand. To see that pretty smile for real.

“C’mon Omi, just pull yer hands away or m’gonna haveta resort to extreme measures,” Atsumu increased his effort at leaving barely there kisses along Kiyoomi’s neck, feeling his heart race against his lips when he reached the pulse point. This got a cacophony of muffled squeaks and giggles before he finally gave into instinct and moved one of his hands away to push at his face.

As soon as it came up, Atsumu saw his chance and took it.

The hand that was drawing shivery patterns over sharp hip bones immediately skittered up Sakusa’s side to find its mark just above his ribs, sending the arm crashing right back down with a muffled shriek.

“Pffft phmp uff,” Came the dampened response as the other hand stayed stubborn in its quest to deprive Atsumu of his happiness. He decided to take it up another notch, because despite his tiredness, his Omi-Omi was still able to put up a good fight. He wouldn’t have him any other way: As headstrong as he was talented.

“Fine, don’t say I didn’t warn ya,” Atsumu leaned back just enough to leave some space between himself and Kiyoomi’s back. For insurance and safety purposes, he threw a leg over his waist to make sure he would fall off the bed.

Then all bets were off.

He started actually scratching at his armpits in tandem with leaving sloppy kisses along his spine and shoulder blades and any other part of his back he could reach at the moment, and the reaction was instantaneous and oh so satisfying.

“Mmmmphhhuhuhuck AtsuhuHU! NaHAHA STAHAP!”

“What babe? Somethin’ wrong?” He made sure to speak against the skin of his back, his words sending ticklish tremors through Kiyoomi as his worst spot was attacked.

“NOHOHOT THEHERE AHATSUHU!” Something seemed to switch off in his brain as his arms finally fell limp at his sides and he threw his head back against the pillows, laughing fully now. When they did, Atsumu immediately toned it down, abandoning his underarm in favor of leaving feather light scratches down the sides of his boyfriend’s back, making him shiver and keeping him caught up in his giggles without torturing him too bad.

Omi could never say that he was anything but nice about this....Well at least at this particular moment. Sakusa definitely kept a dated list of the times that his boyfriend had ruthlessly abused this specific weakness, but that was besides the point.

“Ahatsuhuhu,” Atsumu looked up at the sound of his name falling from upturned lips and found himself mesmerized by the sight.

Now that Kiyoomi had given up on stopping him he’d shifted to flop down on his stomach, bracing his head on his arms as he tried to contain the shaky laughter still spilling easily from his mouth. His hair was tousled from the struggle and his eyes were teary from laughing so hard and he was in an eternal state of flushed and fuck he was beautiful.

Too pretty for his own good. And Atsumu’s. At this rate, he was gonna die before he got to the Olympics.

He could just see it now: Miya Atsumu, beloved son, brother, boyfriend, and teammate. Cause of death: Seeing his godlike boyfriend laugh his heart out.

Shit, ‘Samu was right, he was whipped.

“Tsuhuhuhumuuu, m’tired,” Whiny giggles followed by a familiar yawn brought him out of his thoughts and he let his fingers slow to a stop, moving up in the bed to be beside his still giggling boyfriend. He turned him over onto his back before placing his book onto the nights stand and turning out the light.

“A-asshole,” Sakusa groaned, through breathy pants, giving him a half-hearted shove as he turned to face the blonde.

“But ya love me,” he teased moving in closer to lay his head on the dark haired man’s chest, listening patiently as his heartbeat finally started to slow down.

“You suck,” he murmured in response, his tone empty of any real malice. Plus, the way he was snuggling closer and lacing their hands together across Atsumu’s waist contradicted his words anyway.

Atsumu smiled and took a final look at his boyfriend before closing his eyes to follow him into sleep. And as a man of a limited vocabulary when it came to most things other than volleyball, his last thoughts prior to drifting off were as simple as they were true: Omi’s so pretty.

#sakuatsu #ticklish!Sakusa #haikyuu! tickle fic #tickle fic #tickle #tickles #tickling #fanfiction #haikyuu!!#thanks for reading

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nicknellie · 4 years ago

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@fireflyingaway requested: willex + waffle house pretty plz

So I did have to do “extensive research” on Waffle House because I don’t have one near me and have never been to one, and that led me to find an incredibly good dessert place literally a ten minute drive from me so thank you for that lmfao. But anyway, I had a lot of fun writing this, I went with getting together (kind of) fluff because that’s my jam, so I really hope you enjoy it!

Smooth Like Syrup

Somewhere along the way, Waffle House had become Alex’s favourite restaurant. He wondered if it was the childhood memories it brought back, weekend brunches spent there with his grandparents who cared for him and loved him far more than his parents ever had. It could have just been the fact that he loved waffles, and with a name like ‘Waffle House’ they couldn’t really put a foot wrong when it came to serving him. Maybe it was just the familiarity of it all – Alex had always found comfort in routine, after all. Whatever the reason he loved it there so much, Alex went to Waffle House at least once a week, more if he had the time. And it was absolutely nothing to do with the adorable new waiter who had started working there for the summer.

If anything, he was ruining it all.

Because he’d been going to the same Waffle House every week for as long as he could remember, Alex was pretty friendly with most of the staff. A few of them had been working there as long as he’d been a customer, so they were on first-name terms and always took a moment or two to catch up with each other once Alex had ordered his food (which never took long because he always ordered the same thing and they all knew that by now). Seeing the same people working there and having the same generic chitchat with them each week worked perfectly for Alex. It was normal, routine, familiar, a social situation he knew how to navigate.

Then they’d gone and hired Willie. It shouldn’t have been a problem, but it was. A problem for Alex at the very least. Not only did it disrupt his routine and catch him unawares the first time he’d walked into the restaurant to see a new waiter, but the waiter had to look like that. Willie was all dazzling smiles and sharp cheekbones and luscious long hair and it was, quite simply, unfair. Alex came to Waffle House to eat, not get flustered over some ridiculously good-looking boy.

For a few weeks, Alex had taken the admittedly immature approach to just avoid Waffle House altogether. Out of sight, out of mind. The only reason it hadn’t lasted long was because he missed the waffles, and he couldn’t find anything to fill that extra hour and a half of his Saturday. So after not visiting for two weeks, Alex returned to Waffle House and resumed his routine, still flustered by stupidly attractive Willie, but most definitely working on a way to stop it being a problem.

His next plan of action had been simply trying to avoid Willie which was foiled the moment he sat down in his usual booth one Saturday afternoon. He had been hoping that his usual server would spot him and come over for a chat, but as luck would have it, Willie got to his table first.

“Welcome to Waffle House,” he had said, beaming down at Alex, who tried to act as if the sudden appearance hadn’t scared the life out of him. He wasn’t sure how well he pulled it off, but Willie had made no comment. “My name is Willie, I’ll be your server today. What can I get you started with?”

Two things had thrown Alex then. Firstly, it had been the first time he’d heard Willie’s name. It was strange to be able to put a name to the face of an angel and he was certain he would never have guessed ‘Willie’ if he’d been given a million tries. Secondly, the fact that Willie didn’t automatically know his order bewildered him. He was so used to the waiters coming over, confirming he wanted the usual, and slipping into easy conversation. This was new and unexpected, and if there was anything Alex hated it was new and unexpected things.

As such, his mind went blank and he completely forgot what he usually ordered. A plain waffle and a diet coke shouldn’t have been easy to forget, it wasn’t anything fancy, and yet Alex made it work.

“Um,” he’d said dumbly, looking up at Willie’s expectant face with his mouth bobbing open and closed like a mildly distressed fish. He could feel his cheeks heating in a blush and looked away as Willie raised a concerned eyebrow.

“Do you need a minute to decide?” Willie had asked sceptically.

Alex had shaken his head vigorously, aware that probably made him look as frantically flustered as he felt and was trying to hide, which only made him more flustered. He took several shallow but slow breaths before forcing words out of his mouth because that was how conversations worked and he refused to lose the ability to speak over this boy.

“No, no, I know what I want,” he had said eventually. “Just a plain waffle and a diet coke, thank you.”

“Is that everything?�� Willie had asked, jotting the order down on his notepad.

Not trusting himself to speak any more than that, Alex just nodded. Willie had shot him a bright smile and disappeared off to get his order prepared. The moment he was certain Willie couldn’t see him anymore, Alex’s head flopped onto the table and he let out a long, exhausted, frustrated groan. He felt like an utter mess.

For the rest of that visit, he’d kept it together by simply not talking to Willie unless it was absolutely necessary. Had he been a more confident person he might have found a better way to handle it, but Alex had been cursed with social awkwardness from the moment he’d been old enough to socialise and it wasn’t suddenly going to fix itself just do he didn’t make a fool of himself in front of Willie.

As time went on, things got simultaneously worse and better between Alex and Willie, enough that Alex both dreaded and looked forward to his weekly Waffle House trips. For one thing, he and Willie had got to know each other a bit better – Willie could anticipate Alex’s order now, Alex could just about talk without tripping over his words or saying something slightly embarrassing (which always felt to Alex like something utterly mortifying and worth overthinking because his brain hated him), and if both of them were in the right state of mind they could manage a very brief chat.

But on the flip side, Alex hated Waffle House now and it was Willie who had ruined it for him. Not for any sane reason like being a bad waiter (because he was actually a very good waiter, which Alex thought had something to do with the fact that he always wore Heelys so he could glide across the restaurant which was much faster than walking). No, Willie had ruined Waffle House for Alex because now he couldn’t go in there and see Willie without getting butterflies in his stomach and a giddy grin on his face.

Now that he knew Willie better, it wasn’t just his beautiful brown eyes and gorgeous smile that Alex liked about him. He was talkative, he was funny, he was sweet. He was extremely considerate – when Alex came in one day, Willie met him at the door, walked him to his usual table, told him they’d run out of diet coke and that he had just popped to the store and bought some just for Alex, knowing he would order it. And he laughed at Alex’s terrible attempts at humour, he drizzled the syrup onto Alex’s waffles in the shape of smiley faces, he made sure Alex’s usual booth was always free of people for when he came in. Everything about Willie made Alex’s heart beat too fast and his breath catch and it was starting to make going to Waffle House a very stressful experience.

So Willie was the reason that Alex loved going there and was also desperate to find somewhere else.

But Alex, despite his many worries about life, wasn’t the kind of person to give up on something just because someone else made it difficult. Sure, that rule had usually applied to very different situations, and he actually liked Willie so it wasn’t as if seeing him was a bad thing, but it helped Alex to remember that he’d always powered through things like this and that was what kept him going to the restaurant.

One day, he arrived to Waffle House later than normal. He had come straight from band practise which had gone on longer than normal because they’d spent the first forty-five minutes arguing about the dangers of fiddling with electrical equipment in the rain and decided to make up that time at the end. As such, Alex arrived almost twenty minutes after he normally would have left.

He didn’t spot Willie immediately as he came in and couldn’t help but feel a little disappointed. Nowadays, Willie nearly always greeted him at the door, knowing exactly what time he arrived. He supposed Willie had long ago given up waiting for him to get there – he had a job to get on with, after all. Alex tried not to feel too sad about it as he made his way over to his usual booth; Willie was a waiter, not a friend, not anything else, and Alex shouldn’t have expected him to wait forever or be there whenever he wanted.

But when Alex came to his usual seat, he was surprised to see someone already sat there. Even more so when he noticed that person was Willie.

Willie looked up as he approached, expression changing from bored to delighted in a second flat. The grin on his face was more than enough to snap Alex out of his sudden bad mood, lifting his spirits and bringing a smile to his face in an instant.

“Alex!” Willie greeted. “You’re here! I thought something had happened to you, man, you had me worried.”

Alex laughed and sat down opposite him, trying to keep his eyes wandering so he didn’t end up just staring at Willie. “Nah, I’m alright. Band practice ran over, is all.”

“I’m glad it’s nothing serious,” Willie said with a small smile. “But if it happens again can you text me to let me know you’ll be late? Just so I know I don’t need to worry about you and I can still keep your table free.”

“Sure, but I don’t have your number,” Alex said, ignoring the persistent fluttering of his heart and the alarms blaring in his head. It seemed as if his mind had pressed its panic button at something Willie had said but Alex was too distracted to figure out what.

“That’s easily fixed,” Willie replied. He dug his phone out of his back pocket and slid it across the table to Alex. “If you put your number in there I’ll text you so you can save mine.”

Heart hammering, cheeks hot, and smile so wide it hurt, Alex nodded and entered his contact information into Willie’s phone. He tried to act nonchalant as he slid it back across the table afterwards, but in his flustered state his aim was off – he pushed too hard and it fell over the edge of the table, right into Willie’s lap. That was one of those slightly embarrassing moments that Alex’s subconscious would likely rub mockingly in his face for days to come and he couldn’t help but wince at the thought.

“Thanks, man,” Willie said, beaming. “It’s just for peace of mind, you know. I really like you and when you didn’t show up earlier I just… well, I wondered where you were.”

Willie wasn’t meeting his eye all of a sudden. In fact, he apparently found the table top very interesting because he was staring at it like it held the secrets of the universe. Alex knew the signs well enough to guess how Willie was feeling then – nervous. But what did Willie ever have to be nervous about?

“Hey,” Alex said gently, lowering his voice in an attempt to calm Willie’s nerves. He leant over the table a little though so that he could still be heard. “I’m here, aren’t I? Nothing bad actually happened. You don’t need to worry about me, Willie. I promise.”

A small, bittersweet smile fluttered across Willie’s face. “Yeah. You’re here.”

The short silence then felt charged, electric, fierce. Why, Alex had no idea.

But Willie broke it, his usual bright smile back on his face as he said, “I hope you don’t mind me eating with you, by the way. I’m on my lunch break and I’d kept this table empty for you anyway so I thought I might as well sit here.”

“Oh, no, it’s fine by me,” Alex insisted. It was a half-truth. Was he happy to have longer to chat with Willie than normal, eat together as if they were friends rather than just a waiter and a customer? Yes. But did this feel too much like a date for Alex’s anxiety to handle, even though it was very clearly not a date? Also yes. He half wanted to ask Willie to sit somewhere else, but that would have been unthinkably rude, so he settled for trying not to be awkward.

Not long later, another server came and brought their food out. For a moment Alex thought it was weird because nobody had even come to take his order, then he remembered that everyone who worked at Waffle House knew what he got so it would have just wasted time if they’d asked. The two of them ate in silence for a while, Willie enjoying his break and Alex enjoying the first food he’d eaten all day.

Their conversation started up again when they were about halfway into their meals. Willie asked about Alex’s band practise, how things were going, what they had lined up. Alex was more than happy to talk about Julie and the Phantoms for hours on end and the way Willie engaged with his waffling on so enthusiastically only fuelled that fire. But in return, Alex made sure to ask how Willie was, how he was getting on preparing to start college, whether he’d had enough free time to skate lately.

It was weird, he thought, that this was their first proper conversation and yet they already knew so much about each other’s lives that it flowed as easily as it would have if Alex had been talking to one of his closest friends. Perhaps he and Willie were closer than he had realised.

He only stayed until Willie’s break ended, which was painfully short. They said their goodbyes, Alex jokingly promised he’d be on time next time, Willie laughed that beautiful laugh of his as he took their plates away, and Alex left the restaurant. He couldn’t shake the odd feeling in his mind, still wondering what had panicked him at the start of their conversation.

It hit him as he was crossing a road, stopping him dead in his tracks and causing an irritated driver to beep his horn at him: Willie had been worried about him.

It felt so much more personal than it should have. If Willie worried, it meant he cared, and if Willie cared then it could have meant any number of things. It could have meant that when he looked at Alex he felt the same featherlight giddiness that Alex did when he saw Willie. It could have meant that Willie spent his days wishing Alex was more than just a regular customer. It could have meant that when Willie asked for his phone number he was actually asking for more than that.

Alex had no idea what inspired him to do it, what unusual burst of courage gave him the ability to go through with it, but a moment later he had whipped his phone out and opened Willie’s contact. There was only one message between them, the one Willie had sent so Alex could save his information, but Alex quickly typed out another and hit send before he had time to regret it.

I know you said I only needed to text you if I was going to be late, but I figured I could text you about other stuff too. Like the fact I’m free next Friday if you want to hang out.

Something like that ordinarily would have stressed him out but he didn’t have the time for that because Willie’s response was almost immediate.

Sure! I hear Waffle House is pretty great, how about we go there?

Alex laughed at how dorky and cute Willie was even over text and replied quickly with: It’s a date.

Willie replied with three emojis – a smiley face, a heart, and a waffle. Even just from that, Alex knew Willie had understood him and that next Friday they would be going on an actual date together. He didn’t care whether it was actually at Waffle House or they tried somewhere completely new; as long as he was with Willie, nothing else mattered.

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shhhlikeme · 4 years ago

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F*cked Out 💤

Ojiro Aran Domestic Smut (NSFW) part 2

A/N: I wrote this as a Part 2 to this fic, but it can be read as a stand alone!

18+, Explicit smut, praise kink, Aged up obvs, Timeskip spoilers

Tagging: @saitamastamaticsoup & @chunhua-s b/c these Aran stans found part 1 last night & their comments made me thirsty enough to write a pt. 2. Hope you like it!

also my lovely @qyuanon who I just read is back and I missed her💛

Futilely, you knocked on the door to yours and your man’s home office. Leaning on the frame, you crossed your arms. Being a literal isolationist when you had to work, you never understood why your man liked keeping the office door open. But then he told you once that he didn’t like the fact that he couldn’t hear you calling him if the door was closed. ‘What if something happened and I didn’t run to you?’ He had explained, pouting when you laughed at him. It warmed your heart, but you decided not to call his name tonight, instead opting to physically pay him a visit. You had to, because what lead you here in the first place was serious! You had just woken up in the middle of the night because his side of the bed had turned cold. Yeah, that deserved nothing less than a visit from you!

From your spot in the doorway you could see Ojiro sitting at the grand desk, his back turned to you, the lights from his laptop playing some Team Canada highlights. The screen bluelight shone brightly on his gorgeous dark skin, the back of his head bobbed up and down as he dutifully wrote down any important plays he was seeing so that he could tell his coach tomorrow.

“Babe,” You announced your presence with a soft smile. Your man is such a hard worker and he really doesn’t get enough credit for it. You tighten the robe you were wearing because it was always kind of drafty on this side of the house. “You have a game tomorrow.”

Your boyfriend, captain of the Japanese National Volleyball Team’s shoulders slumped when he heard you, but he didn’t turn around.

He didn’t have to.

He never had to. Even though you’ve only been dating for a bit over a year, you two knew each other so well that you could accurately tell exactly what kind of expressions, feelings, and thoughts permeated the other without having to be vis-a-vis. When you first met, your dates were—objectively speaking—oddly silent for the most part. The waitress once asked you if you were uncomfortable through an inconspicuous napkin note, which was kind of her—but the truth was that on that date you were actually more than Okay! It might have seemed odd to an outsider or eavesdropper that no sentences were being finished, and both people on said date were constantly staring down, away, or into each others eyes in silence… but realistically, neither of them could grasp the fact that words weren’t necessary when there existed a connection like yours and Aran’s.

‘It’s fate. He’s the one.’ You had told your friends after the second date when you realized your mind reading wasn’t a fluke. Because as corny as it sounded then and even now in your memory; it was true, tf.

Doesn’t mean you weren’t going to kick his ass for letting his side of the bed go cold, though. You were used to Aran being gone for volleyball so you had no problem falling asleep alone, but when you were ecstatic to have him home it was important for him to REMAIN home, which means staying in bed if you fell asleep on his chest! He has never done it before, so This is not Okay!

“I know, baby, I know…” your boyfriend calls to you, scribbling on his notepad faster. “I’m almost done. I-I think their setter could be doing one of two plays to start tomorrow, and I don’t think it’s the one I was sure about before we went to bed. And I mean, we play them until 12pm, so—“

“So nothing. You still have to be up by 6. The stadium is far and knowing you, you won’t sleep on the Team’s bus, you’ll still be watching these videos even then. I’ll—“

“Please don’t tell Iwaizumi-san, he will kick my ass! We’re playing Team Canada tomorrow and they are ranked just under us but—“

“Not by a lot, I know. I understand, but you guys will still pull the win. I know it....because Your team has you.”

Aran chuckled heartily, continuing to scribble with his back still turned, but his voice turned a little more endearing. “Thank you, baby. But.... I can’t seem to sleep tonight... I just can’t. I’ve been up this whole time so I—” As your boyfriend babbled on, you quietly interjected,

“I know a way to get you to sleep.”

“—won’t use my laptop in bed and wake you up when you’re sleeping so….wait….what did you—?”

You smirked, knowing that your man knew why your voice had dropped a few octaves. He knew you were up to something, not because you two could practically read each other’s minds—moreso because you two had already established that that specific tone of voice of yours made his dick hard. The pen he was scribbling with stopped moving, finally, and you could just picture the way he gulped just now.

“I know you can’t sleep, Ar…..” You made sure he could hear you clearly now, in the voice you only reserved for fuck-me-o’clock.

A sexy smirk that Ojiro could see without looking at you played in his mind and on your face simultaneously.

“Yeah?” He asked, his deep voice cracking.

You kept speaking in that voice with one goal in mind.

“Yes, baby…” You hummed thoughtfully before stating,

“So why don’t you come over here and fuck me so hard it puts you to bed, then?”

Drunk off horniness caused by the amount sex dripping from your voice, the captain of Japan’s National Volleyball Team slowly turned the office chair so that he was facing you.

Boldly, you turned your back to him at the same time and fiddled your hands that just tightened your robe. This time, instead of tightening it, you loosened the strings fully so your robe was wide open, facing the emptiness of your house. Knowing that your boyfriend was checking out and admiring your ass in that short silk robe and desiring the shock factor—in one motion you tossed the robe over your shoulders so that it pooled at your feet, exposing your completely nude back and backside to your man.

“🤤 Shit,” Ojiro groaned, sounding as if he couldn’t believe his eyes. You just knew your man was biting that full and juicy bottom lip of his.

Swaying your hips to give your man a tiny show, you sauntered precisely where he didn’t want you to: away from him; heading towards the master bedroom.

You kept yourself from giggling when you heard the aggressive shutting of a laptop, a volleyball announcer being cut off, and a certain volleyball player’s stumbling and cursing because Ojiro was practically chasing you out of the office.

***

“Mmmm…. Fuck..”

A few minutes later, your mind displayed a valiant effort by attempting to guess how your boyfriend looked right now, but it would be in vain. You couldn’t picture your man like you usually could because you were currently being fucked way too fucking well. Ojiro was filling you completely with just half his length, whispering horny-nothings to help you understand his feelings anyway:

“God damn, Y/N… Every. Time. Feels. So. God. Damn. Good,”

Now, If your mind was clear you’d be able to perfectly visualize how Ojiro’s face was scrunched up in pleasure right now, a coat of sweat coating his nude dark skin, the skylight over his head allowing the moon to reflect an insanely sexy glow sheen over his muscles due to the perspiration.

“Auuh there’s nothing better than this, baby…”

If your mind was clear you’d be able to perfectly visualize how Ojiro’s head was tilted backwards right now, his mouth slightly ajar as he focused on not cumming inside you within the first few minutes of this because he needed to feel you cum around him first. As always.

“Not when I hitting a line shot, not when I get a service ace.... nothing feels—auuuh f-uck— better than your pussy, baby girl..…”

If your mind was clear, you’d be able to see Ojiro on his knees behind you, holding your hips in his giant hands while he drove into you from behind, inserting only half his cock in and out like a pro, then surprising you with a fully thrust every now and then when he sheathed all 10 inches inside your heat.

“Mmm, so ti-ight, always so wet… damn,”

Despite your mind being clouded by immense pleasure, however—you did know that you looked absolutely wrecked with your face pressed in the pillow, blindly reaching behind you to tap or wave or pinch or do something to him since you couldn’t speak. You could barely made any sounds other than choked out moans because it felt so spectacular… but you didn’t have to! Aran knew that you wanted your boyfriend to stop playing and give you full strokes. His half thrusts filled and pleasured you more than any one ever could because he was huge and skilled in bed, he knew just how your insides liked to be stroked, but that didn’t stop you from silently pleading to him..

Even if Ojiro wasn’t holding back like always because he was very aware of his size and girth, even if you both knew that it would hurt you the next day like after a good workout, even if you walked funny when you had to attended his Olympic game several hours from now—you fucking needed it.

HE fucking needed it!

“Harder, Ar,” You commanded, “Deeper!”

“Fuck,” Your boyfriend panted, still not giving you what you asked 7 amazing strokes later.

“Harder, now!” You cried as if you were whispering to the fucking pillow. You hadn’t the strength to lift your head. Your orgasm was fast approaching because HALF your man’s dick was too good and there was no way you weren’t bringing him with you. “Deeper, baby!”

“Y-you su-sure?” He asked worriedly. He always did this shit 🙄. He always worried way too much about your body soreness and way too little about both of your impending orgasms tonight rocking your motherfucking worlds.

Ugh!

Good boyfriends and their fucked up PRIORITIES, amirite?!

Needless to say, you didn’t have time for compassionate Aran tonight. You needed him to fuck the both of you to sleep the way you knew he was capable of if he stopped holding back. Besides, he should have been in bed hours ago. You had to do this for the sake of the National Team! You had to this for JAPAN! (A/N: lucky b*tch shut your horny ass up)

So that’s why, in response to his asking if you were sure or not, you responded by clenching your insides so that your slick hole squeezed around your boyfriend’s cock.

As soon as he felt you pulsing impossibly tighter around him as he fucked you halfway, his eyes rolled back in his head.

“Fuuuuuuuuuuck…” He moaned deeply, so of course you continued doing it.

“Shit, Y/N, Okay, Okay,”

Without having to beg for mercy, your man did as you asked him to. He moved his hands from your waist to splay them on each of your ass cheeks, spreading them apart to make more room for his member that already barely fit (with your hasty prep and not his tentative one), but especially when your pussy clenched around him like that. With a loud moan from both of you, he bottomed out and stayed there for a bit to get you used to the size. You almost passed out by how good it felt pressing against your g-spot.

When Aran couldn’t take it anymore, and he started giving it to you: hard, fast, and deep.

“Ye, baby, make room for me just like this…..” He moaned, gripping your ass tighter. “You want all of me? You think your tight hole can handle all of me?” He asked, no growled, still giving shallow but gratifying thrusts.

You whimpered, knowing that Ojiro knew the answer to that. Even so, you egged him on, “Sh-Show me why you’re the best top,” playing into your dirty talk from the last time y’all had sex like this but he was under you.

Your boyfriend let out a long groan in his smooth deep voice and picked up his pace in reaponse, sending a new wave of wetness to your private. You were so soaked down there that it sounded like y’all were having sex in the bath tub, fuck.

Your man loved it.

“Mmmm, —m’ close beautiful,” He called, snapping his hips forward to meet you g-spot again and again. “It’s you, baby, it’s you,” Your man groaned. “Your pussy feels too fucking good……. I’d never pull out if I had to co-couldd,”

“Oh, God. Aran!" You moaned loudly due to his dirty talk and praise, teetering on the edge of your release. Knowing that you maybe had 30 seconds left if you focused, you must have decided that you didn’t want to walk tomorrow at all because being the weakness of your bf you are, from your position being pounded into the sheets, you propped yourself up on your weak arms so that you could use the fact that your elbows were digging into the mattress as leverage to push your body back so that you met Aran’s deep thrusts.

Like your boyfriends does every rare time he’s able to see your glorious ass bounce on his hard dick, his eyes flew open and he felt as though he’d been transported to heaven itself.

“Y/N—auh, s-so sexy, aah, ooh, ohhh, fuck, Y/N,”

entranced, Aran couldn’t even last another second before he was stopping your movements with his hands, sliding them back on your hips to hold you still as his orgasm took his muscular frame by storm. He saw stars.

Of course, his orgasm triggered yours immediately, and you cried your man’s name as you came on his dick. He whispered yours as your insides milked him without influence this time, effectively lengthening your man’s finish. Panting, Aran just barely caught himself before his now exhausted body toppled over you.

His last wakeful act, being the gentleman that he is, was to roll over so he wouldn’t crush you with his body weight, pulling out at the same time.

You wondered if he registered that he said, “thank you baby,” before he began softly snoring—a sign that he was completely worn out and sleeping.

You smiled softly to yourself when you heard his snores, finally turning when you caught your own breath, to fully see your boyfriend’s stunning face. You endearingly brushed his goatee with the tips of your fingers, turning his sleeping face to yours so you could peck his lips. Then, you just barely had the leg strength to stand up on limbs that barely worked, removing his condom for him, then using the furniture in your room to support you as you cleaned the two of you up. You almost fell asleep standing up as you used a cloth on the two of you. Five minutes later, you were back in bed, under the covers with your lover and amazing man.

Usually, Ojiro Aran slept like the dead (when he first moved in you occasionally have to check if he was still breathing...) , but you knew now that if he snored, that was a sign that he was so fatigued. You knew about the snoring, but the talking was new to you. Ojiro was so deep in his sleep after that round, that he was talking to himself in his slumber, whispering sweet-nothings about you that you’d never let him know he vocalized to spare him the embarrassment.

Besides, he didn’t say anything too embarrassing.... and you knocked out as soon as your head met his chest, not even feeling his arm sweetly wrap around your waist to pull you closer. So, you didn’t even hear most of his sleep-talk.

And maybe you were right when you called it fate, that drove the two of you.... because if it wasn’t fate that had you place your head on Aran’s chest at that exact moment, if it wasn’t fate that made you fall asleep at that exact moment..... then, I mean, you would have heard Ojiro not a second later declare aloud that he’s hiding your engagement ring in the office’s cabinet drawer. You would have heard theis the real reason he wasn’t able to fall asleep: because he was so nervous about asking for your hand in marriage before his Japan vs. Canada game tomorrow, when you least expected it.

Cause like, well, that totally would have ruined the surprise.

But you did fall asleep. Fate did that. So him sleep talking honestly never really happened.

And you know what else never happened?

You never had to feel the cold side of the bed again where your man should be, at least not that night, because Aran Ojiro your new fiancée’s body kept it warm all night, because you were great and helping him fall asleep like a baby....making him just that:

f*cked out.

#ojiro aran #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu aran #hq imagines #haikyuu!!#hq headcanon #haikyuu headcannons #inarizaki

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thoughts-on-bangtan · 4 years ago

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MTV Unplugged presents: BTS

by Admin 1

What a time to not only be alive, but also be ARMY with BTS taking the MTV Unplugged stage on February 23rd 2021 as the first Korean artists in history to do so. It’s another marvelous achievement on the already highly impressive list BTS have to their name, another mark they’re leaving on history and another piece solidifying their place among musics greatest, at least if you ask me and everyone else who tuned in and was left extremely impressed and emotional, a mix of euphoria, emotional rawness, but also a sense of warm, soft, and gentle comfort and hope.

With this gorgeously put together setlist they’ve also proven, once more, that even when you take away all the high budget stadium stages, the dynamic and explosive choreographies and the fancy music video editing, and just focus on their craft as musicians and their most valuable instruments--their voices--BTS can stand their ground easily. Their talent and passion is unmistakable and shines brightly in all these songs, four of their own and one cover.

The performance was shown simultaneously on dozens of MTV stations across the globe, some watching on TV and others via official live streams, and yet others catching up with what they missed hours later. All the promo, hype and attention paid off and they showed that it was all worth it, that they are more than worth it, and that we as ARMY have every right to be proud of them and be proud of being ARMY.

So, let’s do what I love doing most and talk about each performance, shall we?

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What an absolutely delightful, happy and funky way to open the show and introduce new listeners to just how fun BTS can be. The stage was one giant room filled with lost of little details, including a motorbike with a second passenger extension, arcade games, a football game, and a sofa. Right from the get go there’s this joyful aura around the members, smiles on their faces, little dance moves making their steps light and fun--they were having fun and subsequently we were, too.

How wonderful is it to also finally see Yoongi with them as well, even if it’s very noticeable (and understandable) that he’s keeping his shoulder steady and arm moving as little as possible? After all Telepathy was “his” song for BE and contains lots of little Yoongi signature features, most obviously his knack for playing with autotune in a way that is very audible yet never quite too much, just walking along the line in an interesting way. There’s a genius note change from Hobi in the second half of the song that’s one of the absolute highlights, just like Namjoon and Seokjin doing their little minimal movement dances in the back while grooving along to the music.

As Vminnies we get our own little treat with Jimin and Tae coming together to sing alongside each other and do their little dance as well which we’ve previously seen during the Dear Class of 2020 performance of Mikrocosmos. Then to finish off their little segment, they also do this funny little thing of pointing at each other with Tae as though acting like he (perhaps) wants to boop Jimin’s face/nose from afar. Absolutely adorable.

Speaking of which, can we talk about their cute Donald and Daisy Duck accents on their clothes and accessories which add this little sense of retro? As well as the fact that Tae is wearing the cardigan equivalent to Jimin’s Gucci sweater from his NOTES on Dis-ease video? I do very much enjoy these little details from the stylists. Also, has anyone else noticed that Tae has different in-ears? His usual ones were green yet here they’re translucent.

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The way I gasped when the members turned to Tae and asked him to introduce the next song and he said it’s one that is very meaningful to him, honestly, I can’t even describe it. I was so, so happy but also getting ready to be swallowed by all the feels. I know ARMY sns had theories that we’d get Blue & Grey based on the visuals of that stage which we got in the teasers, and yet somehow I still wasn’t quite ready when the song began and we were graced with absolutely breathtaking vocals that went straight for the heart.

The visuals for this performance were perfect for the song while being interesting yet not too much that it would pull your attention away from the song itself. One by one the members sang their parts and found their places along the two main walls, the lighting cold yet on the white/grey side, none of them really interacting or looking at each other which was fitting with the atmosphere of that blue and grey feeling. Then, for the second half, the ‘stage’ switched to more of a blue lighting and we had moments where first Seokjin and JK sang together and then Jimin and Tae, their voices harmonizing so heavenly with each other yet still none of the members really looked at each other, at most looking into the camera.

I love how this performance put the focus on each member on their own but also in moments on the entire group, that feeling of being alone but never quite alone, that they have each other, and that we have them. Tae also really seemed to be highlighted during this performance, which makes sense when given the history of how the song came to be. But, really, each of them was just as visible and equally beautiful in this.

Speaking of beautiful, my jaw dropped when we got to see (and hear) Namjoon during his verse. Honestly, that mans beauty and handsomeness--it somehow keeps on increasing with each time we see him.

From anon: Omg vmin in blue and grey 😭😭😭. They coudnt even look to each other while singing “Don't say you're fine' Cause you're not Please don't leave me alone, it hurts too much” it’s my fav part by the way and their harmonization it’s heaven. I loved they choose this song to the mtv performance!

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As much as this was supposed to be a surprise, MTV accidentally spoiled it hours before their performance was aired, and yet, despite knowing it was coming, I don’t think any of us were quite prepared for it right after Blue & Grey.

Fix You is a gorgeous song in its original version with a sad backstory, and it’s one of those Coldplay songs that they are extremely selective over when it comes to requests for official covers or use for commercials or movies/shows. They are about their entire discography, but I think it especially goes for this song, and yet they gave BTS the permission to do this official unplugged cover.

We also know the song means something more to the members, seeing as Jimin posted a video on their 6h anniversary showing the members during a trip they’d gone on together while the song is playing in the background. They also spoke about Coldplay during the press conference before their Wembley concerts, and Namjoon and Hobi had gone to one of their concerts a few years ago, as well as Tae on a different occasion. There certainly is a level of admiration and respect involved, a deeper connection to what they were singing, which was very clear and tangible during their performance as well.

Vocal line were truly outstanding in this, especially Seokjin (who took sns by storm as the “pink mic guy” with floods of praise and people wondering who he is, what his name is, because they’d all fallen in love with him--very relatable because same). Rap line switched between harmonizing with the vocalists in their low register and did a beautiful job of it. Namjoon harmonizing with Seokjin truly gave me goosebumps (and made my little namjin heart very happy). We also had Tae and Hobi harmonizing and sharing a brief smile with each other, as well as Namjoon harmonizing with Jungkook and Jimin, and Yoongi harmonizing with Tae and Jungkook.

The stage was also beautifully thought out, minimal yet captivating at once, all the members sitting on barstools in a line with the blinds drawn on the windows behind them, spotlights shining on them from above and others dancing behind them giving them a beautiful glow and turning something simple into something extraordinary and gorgeous. They truly didn’t need any more than that.

And like their performance wasn’t outstanding enough, we also saw Coldplay themselves not only tweet about it while calling the cover beautiful in Korean (and tagging the member’s twitter account instead of the _bighit one), but also post the same comment below the video on YouTube and share links to it on their facebook and IG stories, as well as sharing the video in their community tab on their YouTube channel.

So, not only did BTS garner big approval from Coldplay fans and ARMY alike, but also from the original artist. A wonderful moment in music and between two legendary artists in their own right.

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This acoustic version of Life Goes On is truly a masterpiece, so calm, soothing and offering that sense of comfort, togetherness, and this reassurance that life will go on, that we’re together in this, that we’ve made it through the blue & grey, that we’ve helped each other to “fix” ourselves, and that we can now slowly heal and grow from the things we’ve gone through. The electric guitar, the slow and quiet drums and on top of that the members voices, all of it coming together truly beautifully.

Their outfits kind of gave me UK private school or University secret society vibes, or as Admin 2 called it “ready to go hunting, we’re just missing our Beagles or Basset Hounds” which isn’t necessarily wrong. And yet the warm shades of brown fit the atmosphere of the song really well, complement it even.

While we’re “used” to vmin having their little moment, we only really saw Tae smiling towards Jimin, though the camera unfortunately didn’t give us a wide shot to see if Jimin returned his smile, though I’ll go ahead and say he likely did if he noticed Tae’s. Though honestly, Tae’s wide happy smile was enough to melt my heart on its own.

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And then, to close out the night, we got a very funky and fun yet calm version of Dynamite during which, surprisingly enough, the members actually stay in their seats against all ARMY theories and bets (well, okay, Namjoon stood up for a moment, but sat down really quickly again and no one actually got out of their seats to dance). Who would’ve thought a day like this would come, especially looking at how they got up in previous seated performances of Dynamite.

I love the not so subtle flex of all their gold, silver and platinum records across the wall behind them, as well as their MTV moon men. With how humble they are about their awards and achievements, this felt like a good moment to highlight just how hard they’ve worked, how much they’ve achieved, before they got the chance to be on MTV Unplugged and that truly, if someone deserves to be there and showcase their talents, its them.

Looking at how many times we’ve seen and heard Dynamite, it’s fascinating how they still managed to create a version that was different from all the previous ones and felt fresh and new. Their outfits were simple and all white and thus didn’t pull too much attention onto them leaving the focus on the music and vocals. Tae’s adlibs were absolutely fantastic and they all just seemed to have so much fun with this performance, smiling and dancing in their seats, obviously having a great time. We even got Jimin smiling and scrunching up his nose happily at Tae while he sang!

Overall this MTV Unplugged performance was a wonderful display of their talents and music merits, their vocals and rap, and just how outstanding they are as a group on this vast world stage. The setlist was perfect, though perhaps a little short. Honestly, if you ask me, they could’ve performed five or ten more songs and I would’ve remained glued to the screen through it all. And yet, still, I couldn’t have asked for more. I was left brown away and so extremely impressed despite being ARMY and knowing how good BTS are. They truly manage to find new ways to grow, evolve, and showcase their musicality with each performance. I also love how they don’t shy away from trying new things and challenges, like rap line singing and harmonizing with the vocals.

I’ll definitely come back to watching these stages many times in the future and they’re easily up there in my top ten of favorite performances of all time. Thank you, BTS, and thank you MTV Unplugged.

#BTS #BTS MTV Unplugged #bangtan sonyeondan #Namjoon #Seokjin #Yoongi #Hoseok #Jimin #Taehyung #Jungkook #music commentary #performance commentary #MTV Unplugged #vmin #namjin #Coldplay

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v3nusaphr0d1t3 · 4 years ago

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i know you want it in the worst way

crossposted on ao3: <3

rating: explicit

content warning: gay ass mfs, shameless porn, uhhhh impact play

dabi gets pegged by his roommate tomura / no quirk au / trans shiggy / camboy shiggy series

tomura had made an uncomfortable situation for himself. he currently sat at the kitchen table with his roommate, intent on devouring his half of the large pizza by himself in an unreasonable amount of time. dabi was intent on doing the same. but that wasn’t what was uncomfortable. it was the fact that recently, him and dabi had been getting cozy in between streams. it was new, and very strange.

going into this, tomura was honestly just excited for the views that he would get. but the amount of attention that he was getting because of his “chemistry” with dabi was insane. dabi would sleep in tomura’s bed most nights, or they would fall asleep on the couch together. dabi would make him coffee in the morning, or bring him chips on his way back from… whatever his job was. tomura tended to not get involved, because it wasn’t his business and frankly he didn’t care.

but he had begun to enjoy dabi’s presence in his room when he played games. his viewers had seen dabi plenty, and had taken to making fun of tomura in the stream chat. those that knew who dabi was were particularly relentless. and though tomura and dabi had been living together for nearly a year now, it felt like dabi had just recently begun making himself seen. like he had wiggled his way into tomura’s life, and slowly started to figure out his habits, breaking every wall tomura had up to keep people away from him.

hell, he started doing the chores more. it just seemed like he gave more of a shit. it gave tomura butterflies and also simultaneously made him nervous. it was one thing to fuck someone, but all this gushy shit was frightening. he hadn’t really let himself feel like that in a long time. especially since transitioning. but dabi seemed to take him seriously, and more so not really give a shit what tomura did. it was refreshing.

he hadn’t even really realized he had gotten stuck in his train of thought until dabi was waving a hand in front of his face.

“hello? creep? you with us?” dabi’s sarcasm shouldn’t have been an endearing as tomura found it.

tomura raised a non-existent eyebrow. “who’s ‘us’?” he asked, looking around to further the quip.

“me n’ the ghosts, fuck you mean?”

tomura chuckled, going back to his last bite of pizza, savoring it, and standing up to throw the box away. he set it next to the trash can and moved back to the table, sitting down with a satisfied stomach and a lingering question in his mind.

ever since dabi had made him cry on stream, he had revenge on his mind. he wanted to fuck this man into incoherency. and tomura had the advantage of being able to chose his dick size.

“hey,”

“hm?” dabi looked up from where he was staring off, holding his last slice of pizza.

“can i fuck you?” tomura asked in his plain, monotone voice.

“ain’t that what you were doin’?”

“no, i mean— i wanna fuck you. like, i top.” tomura explained as he set his head in his hands, grin splitting his face.

dabi raised his eyebrows, before matching tomura’s grin. “well, i’m not gonna say no to that. just know, you gotta live up to what i put down.”

“easy.” tomura’s competitive streak made it’s appearance. “be ready by tomorrow night, we’ve got a show to put on. you know what to do right?” tomura asked.

“yes, dumbass, i know what to do.”

“ok, ok. just wanted to hear you admit that you bottom.” tomura covered his grin with his hand, standing up and taking off, promptly ending the conversation.

the next time he saw dabi, he was at tomura’s door later that evening, just watching him play his games. this was part of a strange routine that they had developed, more time spent together recently than ever. tomura looked over and him, and nodded over to his bed, silently telling him to get comfortable. dabi did, faceplanting into tomura’s disheveled sheets and listening to the clicks of the mouse and tomura’s gamer rage.

it was nice, having company like this. it was quiet but it was nice.

and eventually, when tomura’s eyes got tired from staring at the screen, or when he got bored of the same strategies over and over again, he stood up from his chair, popping both of his knees in the process, and made his way to the bed. dabi still laid there, asleep. it was a strange and soft sight that tomura enjoyed. it made him queasy to know that he slept beside this man, completely vulnerable, but he did. he didn’t really know when it started, or what they were at this point, but a warm body was a warm body. and tomura crawled in next to him, feeling the sleeping man stir, only to sling his tattooed arm over tomura and pull them together. it was nice. this was nice.

and tomura woke up before dabi like he always did. it always confused him how dabi went to bed before him and woke up after him. he guessed some people just needed more sleep. he took a cigarette from dabi’s jacket at the end of the bed, making his way to the window to sit in the window sill, feet on the fire escape, as he lit it. he liked the watch the all the people, and his lack of sleep always fueled that interest. he only heard footsteps for a moment before dabi wrapped his arms around tomura’s waist mid-inhale, making him cough and struggle.

“you shithead! i should kill you,” tomura grumbled too loud for the morning air.

“mmm, shut it.” dabi’s morning voice was lovely, and it made the morning feel warm. no more words were said, but they were felt as dabi continued to hold tomura, stealing the cigarette from him. and when it went out, dabi entwined their hands and watched the street below with him.

it was nice, this was nice.

this type of intimacy was something that tomura wasn’t used to. but the other kind, the one they were gearing up for to stream to tomura’s viewers, tomura was very used to.

the heat in his gut flared up more as the day went on, when tomura showered, when dabi went on a run for his ‘job’, and when dabi went to go take a shower, tomura went to get ready himself. he pulled out his box from under his bed, pulling out his 8 incher. he wanted to ruin dabi and this bright pink instrument of doom would seem to do the trick. he found his harness and the lube, and laid them all on his desk as he made his bed and cleaned up his room. it was consistently a disaster, he just tried to avoid the mess making its way into his camera shot. by the time most of his shit was pushed out of view of the camera, he heard the shower turn off and dabi step out of it.

tomura sat back on his bed in his boxers and hoodie, materials in sight of the camera which was on and ready for him to press the “go live” button. his door opened, and there stood dabi in his t-shirt and boxers, looking domestic but sexy as all hell. he had a fire in his eyes as he usually did before the streams. he looked at the strap on tomura’s bed and immediately, his face was red and he was shifting where he stood.

“so— we really doin’ this, huh creep?” he murmured, eyes still glued to the toy.

“i mean— you can back out if you want, i haven’t started the stream—”

“no! no, i— i- uh. i wanna.” dabi cut tomura off, already stammering over his words.

and tomura was already obsessed with the shade of red dabi was turning. the white-haired man shuffled his way over to the laptop, making sure all of his settings were in check and all of his links worked, before looking back to dabi.

“ready?” tomura asked, and dabi nodded, sitting back on the bed.

tomura started the stream, waiting a few moments for the viewers to flood in.

“hi! welcome back, you guys are in for a treat this time. it’s my turn to fuck him stupid, as revenge.”

tomura would never get over the way he acted in front of a camera. it was so freeing, which was strange. he felt more natural in front of all these strangers than he did in public. it was absurd and he adored it.

>> hellz yeah!! ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

>> Peg the cissie

tomura chuckled at that one. his viewers always entertained him, whether by being inconsolably horny or genuinely funny. either way, he turned back to dabi, grin splitting his face. there was a glint of excitement in the other mans eye, and he could tell this was going to be fun.

tomura made his first move soft, moving his hands up dabi’s tattooed legs to rub his thighs, leaning in for a kiss that was softer than the ones that they had shared before. he started everything off slow, making his way between dabi’s legs as they kissed. it was a push and pull, less biting, and less aggression. though, because it was them, playful nips were a given. tomura earned a nice breathy chuckle from dabi when he moved his hand up to grip the base of dabi’s head by his hair, carding his fingers through it.

when they had to pull away for air, tomura moved on to dabi’s neck, kissing along his jaw to suck a mark onto him, high up on his neck. practically impossible to hide. tomura liked that. dabi was still surefire, breathing only slightly sped up. tomura slid his thigh in between dabi’s to give him something to work his hips on, and he did. he grinded his hips against tomura’s thigh as tomura sucked more into his skin, biting onto the junction between dabi’s neck and his shoulder, making the aforementioned man whine almost pathetically.

“oh— you sound really pretty, dabi.” tomura was always a bit insecure of his voice, whiney and craggly, but dabi seemed to enjoy the sentiment. it made tomura’s gut clench, the way dabi’s breath caught.

“why don’t we open you up, huh? can i eat you out?” tomura wouldn’t be able to spew any filth like this if the camera wasn’t on. it was the false confidence, the performance. but the words were true, dabi really was gorgeous in this moment. tomura didn’t believe how he hadn’t seen it before.

“god— yes, yeah—” dabi’s reply was deep and gutteral, leaned back on his hands as he spread his legs. tomura took to getting dabi out of his pants, pulling his boxers down himself and pulling him by his thighs to lay spread open. tomura was on his stomach, level with dabi’s crotch as he let out little puffs of breath to watch dabi arch into nothing. it was insane how responsive the man was already, and tomura hadn’t even touched him. he had to do this more often.

“jesus— get on it with, will ya’?” dabi’s tone was laced with annoyance, looking down at tomura with a blush on his face and a glint in his eye. tomura’s grin was mischievous as he moved to kiss along dabi’s inner thigh.

“that’s no way to ask for something. you know what you want. ask for it.”

and this was where dabi’s stubbornness kicked in. his lips stayed sealed as he arched against nothing. tomura sat up, moving back from dabi and looking him in the eye. tomura took to running his fingers along the inside of dabi’s legs, up his torso, to his chest, over his nipples, and back down. feather light, only enough to make goosebumps erupt all over.

tomura could tell dabi was trying really hard not to give in. not to move. to do nothing.

“beg. i know you want to.” tomura being able to get away with being a shithead was gonna go to his head if it continued to feel this good. tomura leaned in, just over dabi’s ear, and dragged his nails over dabi’s outer thighs.

“good boys know how to beg, dabi.” his voice was still that monotone, with a hint of mockery. and dabi caved.

“please. please, please please—”

“better than that, i know you’re smarter than that, pretty boy.”

“i need you, tomura, give it to me, give me something, please—”

having dabi like this without even touching him was definitely getting to tomura’s head. but dabi had done good, so tomura moved down and licked a stripe over dabi’s hole. he heard him gasp, so without letting the other man get his bearings, he immediately began his assault, circling his rim with his tongue and running it up and over his taint to swirl the tip of his cock. he moved back down to push his tongue in with little flick, opening him up slightly with the glide of the wet muscle.

above him, dabi was trying to hold in his whimpers and moans, moving one of his hands to muffle himself before tomura, without discontinuing his attention to dabi’s hole, grabbed his arm and shoved it back to the bed. dabi’s next groan was fully exposed to the camera and was like music to tomura’s ears.

tomura knew dabi had a thing for the camera. he knew it from the second dabi asked to join him. so tomura made dabi the star this time. and by god was he doing it well. tomura pulled back and wiped his mouth with his hoodie sleeve.

“you sound really good,” tomura murmured, finally grabbing the lube and hearing dabi sigh in relief with the pop of the cap. he was rock hard and practically leaking against his stomach.

tomura poured some out on his fingers, trying to warm it in his hand but apparently failing if dabi’s hiss was any indication of temperature. he rubbed his fingertips along dabi’s hole, hearing dabi’s breathy whines speed up.

“what did we learn last time?” tomura asked leisurely, looking dabi right in his hazy eyes. he continued his ministrations, teasing but never fulfilling, just never enough to satisfy. he wanted to drive dabi insane, and patience was key. he wanted this boy to beg and pant for the camera, to scream out for him. he wanted dabi to fall apart like putty in his hands, and all he had to do was wait.

but he wouldn’t. yet again, he was denying tomura his sweet, wrecked words yet again. tomura wouldn’t have that. he removed his fingers from where they were running light little circles against dabi’s hole and used his non-lubed hand to run his fingers lightly across dabi’s inner thighs again. dabi groaned in frustration and dropped onto his elbows, giving tomura a death stare like no other. the fire in his eyes was bright, and tomura wanted to dive in and burn. he gave a lazy smirk as he dipped his hand into the crease between the other man’s thigh and his pelvis, running his finger down and avoiding the spot where dabi wanted him the most.

“fuck off,” dabi moaned these words despite their meaning, and tomura could tell that they were not meant to be taken literally.

“you’re such a mess already, and i haven’t even fucked you. come on, say what you gotta say. be good, for once.” tomura was spouting off, dripping wet in his boxers as he leaned in over dabi.

“make me, creep. make me, if you want it so fuckin’ bad.” dabi’s tone betrayed how fond he was of the situation he was in, though still whiny as all hell. tomura almost didn’t want to give him what he was so obviously baiting for. still, tomura would never pass an opportunity to whip the other man into shape.

he wasn’t the strongest, but dabi was in such a shaky state that he was able to manhandle him on his stomach with his ass up, face pressed into the pillow by virtue of tomura’s hand on the back of his head. and without hesitation, tomura laid down a smack hard enough to rattle his teeth on dabi’s ass. he saw the other man light up and he heard a groan loud enough to be loud through the pillow. tomura couldn’t imagine what the chat looked like right now. he didn’t care. they wanted authenticity, he would deliver.

tomura watched a print of his hand slowly appear on dabi’s right asscheek as dabi waggled his hips to try to entice tomura further. he decided to bite, laying another smack just as hard where his thigh met his ass, hearing a loud gasp as dabi drooled onto the pillow. and another, and another. he continued with a few more until dabi was whining into open air, little mewls and whimpers coming from where he had turned his head to the side to breathe better tomura’s hand sneaking its way into his hair and pulling occasionally.

tomura leaned over dabi, right up next to his ear, and murmured, “you wanna be a good boy now and beg for it? come on, i don’t have all day.” his fond little words combined with the stinging pain on dabi’s ass must have made the wall in his head break down.

“please, please gimme somethin’— i need it, c’mon, tomura,” dabi stretched out his lovers name like a prayer, clinging to every syllable like it would satisfy him in tomura’s absence.

either way, tomura finally spread dabi’s cheeks and slowly slid one finger in with surprising ease. he heard dabi whimper yet again, and knew he wouldn’t have to wait much longer to add a second. he did just that, working through whatever resistance the other man’s body posed him. dabi was already a puddle beneath him, little breaths driving tomura up the wall. he was about at the end of his rope here. he wasn’t a patient man, but something about dabi made him one. he couldn’t see himself spending this much time riling anyone else up, and it was strange to see this man make him so different.

he added another finger, watching with hungry eyes as his fingers were repeatedly engulfed. he curled them up against dabi’s walls and watched the man deflate. it was almost amusing.

still, he decided to finally take mercy on the poor thing and stood up to put on the harness. he heard dabi whine and turn over, hissing when his ass hit the bedsheets. tomura got his dick strapped into the harness and turned around with a half assed ‘ta-da’ gesture, smiling when dabi let out a husky little chuckle at the imagery of tomura’s bright pink strap against his black boxers.

he got up onto the bed, seeing now the product of his teasing in the way dabi leaned into his every touch. he lubed up and lined up with dabi’s hole, moving one of dabi’s legs to be on his shoulder. dabi was all limbs, so it was surprisingly easy. and for how leggy he was, he was unexpectedly flexible. tomura began to push in, making eye contact with dabi as he leaned over him, nearly folding the poor man in half as tomura laid one hand beside dabi’s head.

in this process, he had nearly all the way pushed into dabi, and the man below him was losing his mind.

“f- fuck i— i didn’ think it was that big—” dabi’s murmuring was more to himself, but the words went to tomura’s head for some reason. he was smirking as dabi tried to wiggle to get that last bit inside of him, groaning like he needed it.

“tomura, god, please,” the desperation in his voice was the straw that broke the camel’s back. tomura slammed the rest of the way in, and started a relentless pace. the impact of tomura’s clothed thighs against dabi’s raw skin was just another sensation that he could practically see the other man drowning in.

and tomura didn’t know what it was about him, his pretty eyes, his miles of tattooed skin, his long and clumsy limbs, his raspy voice and his overall demeanor, but the feelings that head built up for this man made it all the more breathtaking to watch him fall apart. and tomura couldn’t help but tell him, the camera made him more brave than he was.

“you’re pretty like this.”

“tomura, harder—”

“good boy,”

that little coo of two simple words made dabi keen, throwing his head back, long expanse of his neck exposed and just so gorgeous. tomura was going to lose it. tomura brought a hand up from dabi’s hips to his neck just to fit his hand around it. it felt dangerous, dabi so open and vulnerable for him here, opening up for tomura on film.

“you like that? you like being good for the camera? for me?”

dabi’s breathing was heavy staccato as he arched off the bed, and tomura took his over leg over his shoulder to fuck into him faster. tomura could tell he was nearing his end, hiccups of breath accentuating the way his eyes rolled back into his head at a particularly hard thrust, the drag and friction of the synthetic cock inside him too much for him to bear. he was flushed from his ears to his shoulders, a gorgeous color that tomura was currently particularly obsessed with.

“t- touch me tomura, please, i need to cum—”

“you wanna come? go on, convince me some more.”

“please, i’ll be so good tomura, give it to me, c’mon— i want it, can i? please,�� he was repeating himself, so out of his own head to even produce a more intelligent answer. eventually his begging turned into these messy little moans that had tomura feening.

he sounded too pretty, and yet again tomura caved.

he swiped up some of the precum that had accumulated on dabi’s stomach (gross but effective) and started working dabi’s cock in time with his thrusts.

“cum for me, dabi, you’re allowed. you’ve been good for me, come on,” tomura coaxed the other man along as he finally reached his orgasm, spraying all over his own stomach and even managing to land some on tomura.

dabi took a while of deep breathing to finally calm down. in that time, tomura ended the stream with a warm goodbye and promise for more and went off to get tylenol, water and a rag.

wiping jizz off your fuckbuddie’s stomach wasn’t supposed to be particularly tender, but the way dabi’s eyelashes fluttered until the soft touch made tomura’s heart flutter. gross. dabi was a blushy mess, he presumed because of the other man’s prior begging and pleading for tomura’s dick.

“hey, tomu?” his words were barely above a murmur.

“hm?”

“you didn’t get off, did you?”

tomura had completely forgotten, so caught up in dabi’s pleasure and entertaining the viewers in the heat of the moment that the throbbing heat in his dick was slammed back into him at the mere mention of it.

“get yer’ ass over here,”

#shigadabi #shigaraki tomura #dabi bnha #bnha dabi #bnha shigaraki #touya todoroki #no quirks au btw

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reaction2whatever · 3 years ago

Text

Agents of SHIELD S1E13-S1E17 reaction

I have some questions up until this point that I hope the writers will address later on.

What happened to May to cause a character change? Why was baby Skye covered in blood and hunted? Why is Skye a 084? Who's Clairvoyant?

Alrighty I'm ready to binge a few more episodes and hopefully, they have adequate answers to my questions

Agents of SHIELD S1E13

-I love May's glam look! she's so hot

-Ward's so shocked when May told him that Coulson knew about them lol Power move, May

-Skye's Scottish accent is soooo hilarious

-Simmons is so dramatic lmao I love her so much

-Ward and Coulson struggling with the hologram table is sooo funny lmao

-May is seriously badass in this episode holy fuck I'm a fangirl of May now

-Jemma saving Fitz and Skye is so heroic and brave

-Babygirl didn't know it was dendrotoxin but held the enemy anyways

-Jemma is so precious

-I don't understand why evil bad guys just use night night gun

-I thought they were evil bad guys, they could have just killed everyone right?

-Oh no Skye, going in alone is a bad idea

-Somebody please tell Skye that going in alone is a bad idea?

-Skye you are barely trained

-But holy shit she's pretty good now, dropping bad guys

-I'm so nervous for Skye ahhhh

-So the purchase is Mike and his fake leg huh

-Mike is under that eye thing's control this is looking bad for Skye

-oh fuck

-holy fuck I squealed when he shot Skye

-Quinn you bastard

-She's not gonna die right????

-He shot her in the belly two times???

-poor girl omfg

-The actress who plays Skye, she's good

-oh my god the way I bought her performance

-They are very lucky that chamber for Mike is so close

-why are they on the plane though? get her to a hospital?? I'm sure there are hospitals in Italy??

-Simmons crying for her friend and Fitz hugging her awwww

-Skye is not going to die, right? there is no way

Agents of SHIELD S1E14

-Seeing Skye intubated is soo sad

-"We are her family" this shit hit hard

-Oh how good does it feel to see May punch the shit out of Quinn

-May really does care a lot more for Skye than she showed

-I know I said I don't care for Coulson being brought back to life from the dead plot but now I care, like a lot

-Whatever they do they need to save my baby Skye

-Oh but does that mean Skye have to go through that trauma of Coulson screaming "let me die"

-Coulson risked the big evil knowing the way he was brought back to life to save Skye

-That's love, man

-Maybe not romantic love, but I have no doubt Coulson cares a lot about Skye

-I buy that connection

-Simmons describes Skye as "Can't imagine your life without her" That is romantic man

-I am simultaneously shipping Skye with Simmons and Simmons with Triplett

-I'm so glad they've got the drug and Skye didn't die

-Simmons saying "I was losing her anyways"

-Also Simmons caressing Skye's head

-I want to see more scenes with Skye and Simmons

-So the drug is alien, yeah I guess that makes sense

-How is Skye on a hospital bed still so pretty

Agents of SHIELD S1E15

-This scene between Skye and Simmons is sooo precious

-I love this stubborn patient Skye x pokey doctor Simmons ship, is there fanfic on this?

-The Ward Skye interaction is also kinda cute. Even though Ward is sleeping with May I still think Skye and Ward could be a thing?

-I can understand Simmons' objectives cause if I'm a doctor imma research the hell out of this magical drug

-Lady Sif is in the show blindspot! Never knew she was in marvel. She's so handsome in warrior clothing

-Lorelei is so gorgeous omfg I know she's supposed to be the villain but she's so gorgeous. I don't know why does her power only work on men though, I'm a raging lesbian I could be affected too?

-Ward is under mind control lol that's so predictable

-That Lorelei and Ward sex scene was pretty hot

-So was Lorelei implying that Ward had feelings for Skye instead of May?

-May is so cool and collected I admire her so much

-I'm looking forward to AC and Skye teaming up

-holy shit May has been spying on them huh

-Honestly I don't really care about those Lorelei plots but I'm loving all the characters

-I hope May isn't really betraying the team

Agents of SHIELD S1E16

-So shield is finally cracking Clairvoyant guy

-ohhhhh a badge for Skye I'm sooo proud of my girlllll

-So she's agent Skye now right?

-I'm so happy for her

-Fitz and his monkey obsession lol so cute

-I still like Hand. She's pretty and bossy

-FitzSimmons calling each other Watson is pretty cute

-Mike is like a half-robot now it's so creepy

-Oh come on Mike is a supersoldier, no way a bunch of normal humans can take him down, right?

-So Clairvoyant is just a crippled old vegetable man paralyzed?

-This is very anti-climatic because I don't buy it

-a paralyzed man in a vegetable state is the biggest evil? like how?

-What is it with Skye that not only she is a 084 but also the Clairvoyant wants her too like why? She's just a regular girl?

-Holy fuck did Ward just shoot him? a vegetable man?

-That's so unnecessary

-Do they even know that the voice definitely comes from vegetable man? What if Ward just shot a vegetable with audio playing around him?

-It all doesn't make any sense. If Clairvoyant wants Skye why would he ask Quinn to shoot her?

-yes exactly Coulson, Coulson understands me! How can they be sure Vege man is the really big bad boss?

-ohhhhh what? so shield has a mole???

-the mole is MAY????

-seriously?

-Couldn't the Clairvoyant just hack into the files of shield making them paranoid with each other? I mean Skye hacked shield pretty easily?

-I don't think it's anybody in the team, because shield is a pretty big organization isn't it? there could be another person in shield that was the mole who had clearance?

-annnnd the last scene says Hand is the real Clairvoyant????

-Man, I am confused

-I just said Hand was pretty at the beginning damn it

Agents of SHIELD S1E17

-I am beyond confused.

-I just wish everyone on the team is clean

-I only trust Skye and Coulson now

-Shield attacking Garrett too? what's going on

-wow did Coulson just shoot May

-What's Hydra? I thought they were after the Clairvoyant?

-So Hydra is also a big bad? It's about the movies again isn't it

-Honestly it must have been a thrill for movie fans but I do not understand. Imma just pretend Hydra is also very very evil and inside shield for a long time

-Everyone in the hub is attacking the bus because Hand said so right?

-oh wow Hand just admitted to being Hydra? I'm very disappointed in her

-I thought she was cool

-Oh it's a test....

-The way this show plays my emotions

-I'm so very glad that Hand is cool

-why in hell would Hand think Coulson is Hydra?

-lmao Skye knows about Ward and May this whole time huh

-So finally we get a Skye and Ward kiss

-It's been long enough

-The way Ward beat 12 men all by himself. That was hot af

-Oh fuck Garrett is the mole?

-It makes so much sense!

-Garrett was there right after Skye was shot

-Gotta admit I did not see it coming

-But Triplett was there with Garrett after Skye was shot too? Does that mean Triplett was a mole too? I thought Triplett passed Hand's test?

-Oh so Garrett really was the Clairvoyant

-I got played with this Garrett twist, did not see it coming at all

-Triplett was so angry at the end seeing Garrett being arrested. Good for him

-I was right! for liking Hand! (really I just liked her red hair but I'm so glad she's not evil lol

-So the whole Hydra infiltrate shield thing happened in Captain America huh.

-wtf did I just see? Ward is Hydra. I was JUST cheering for him to kiss Skye in this episode

-what the fuck just happened Ward just shot Hand

-Holy fucking hell Ward is full-on evil villain

-Oh and he just cold-blooded murdered three agents on this plane including Hand

-It makes so much sense now why he would shoot vegetable man

-Fucking hell Ward is evil I did NOT see it coming

-This episode fucked with my mind imma have to admit this is the best episode of this season so far

-WHAT did I just witness

-Ward man, I was rooting for you to get the girl and now I don't think you deserve Skye

-There is no way Ward can be redeemed, right? not after what, 4 murders in 2 episodes

-Holy fuck this news of Ward being the traitor will fuck up the team for sure

-Please let there be no more traitors inside the team I can't take this anymore

#agents of s.h.i.e.l.d.#agents of shield

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artificialqueens · 4 years ago

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All Shades of Pink (Rosé/Denali/Olivia) - Mar

Denali and Olivia spend Valentine’s day together while Rosé is on tour. Rosé sends Denali a gift, and it changes Olivia’s perspective.

Valentine’s date brunch had been simultaneously the best and worst idea of Denali’s week. She felt sated and happy, but God, the weight of the world sat on her stomach. Now, as she lay her head on Olivia’s lap on the living room couch, the day’s warmth clouded her mind and called her to sleep. Her girlfriend was threading her fingers through Denali’s loose braids, pulling them apart, but the movements were getting lazier and slower. Denali opened her eyes -when had she closed them?- and found the cute face Olivia made when she was sleepy. Her speech was getting quieter, eyes fluttering closed, her whole body clearly gearing up for a midday nap. And Denali so wanted to join her, but…

“Liv, I can’t fall asleep,” she whispered, mindful not to startle her. She slid her hand on Olivia’s cheek, flushed from the half-asleep state, and made the girl’s eyes focus on her own. “The package will be here any minute, I need to be awake to get it.”

Olivia shook off the drowsiness, curls bouncing with the movement.

“I’m up, I’m up. Not tired at all, see?” she said, blinking the sleep off her eyes.

Denali smiled and curled her hand behind Olivia’s neck, bringing her down for a soft kiss.

“Did they give you a time frame for when it would get here?”

“Only that it’d be after twelve. That’s why I rushed us home after brunch. I’m sorry about that,” Denali apologized sincerely for the hundredth time.

“For the hundredth time, it’s okay,” Olivia smiled, rolling her eyes. She laced the fingers of her free hand with Denali’s, over her stomach. “You miss her.”

Denali turned to the side and buried her face on Olivia’s thighs, half to hide the puppy eyes she was tired of making and half to breathe in the lotion Olivia put on her legs every morning.

“I know,” she whined. “And I know she’s so happy when the company’s touring, and it’s only two more weeks, and she’s been so attentive and calls me every day, even though she’s super busy, but…” she trailed off, looking up at her girlfriend.

“Yeah,” Olivia replied, playing with Denali’s hair. “I know.” She grabbed the end of Denali’s braid and used it to tickle her nose, making Denali pull back laughing.

“Although, this Valentine’s day has been the easiest to schedule in years.”

Olivia grinned, tongue between her teeth.

“I can’t complain about a full day with you. Remember our first Valentine’s day?”

Denali groaned.

“Rosé and Denali, romantic breakfast from eight to nine. Rosé goes to work, Olivia picks up Denali and they go on a mind-blowing date at the skate ring,” she listed.

“You just wanted to show off.”

“I wanted to impress you,” Denali corrects, giggling. “I also had a class to teach right after, very convenient because I had a dinner date with Rosé at seven sharp, then we ran home, she switched one gorgeous dress for a dress just as gorgeous and twice as slutty, before Mik picked her up to go clubbing, for their first Valentine’s day. Then you texted me goodnight, ‘cause you’re a babe and can’t get enough of me,” she said, kissing Olivia’s thigh.

“And we fell asleep talking, I remember.” Olivia’s smile grew dreamy at the memory. “It was an exhausting day.”

Denali rubbed the heel of her hand over her eyes.

“I had nightmares about our color-coded schedules.”

“How would polyamory work without Google Calendar?”

“Hmmh. But I’m happy with today’s schedule.”

“Package, nap, movies and the taco truck at the park. Perfect day.”

The doorbell rang and Denali shot up from the couch to get it. Olivia stood on her knees on the edge of the couch, hearing Denali give her information to the delivery person before shutting the door. She reentered the living room, beaming, doing a happy dance on her socks while she held the box tightly like it was Rosé herself.

Olivia squealed at the sight and jumped off the couch to plant a loud kiss on Denali’s cheek.

“Open it! I’ll give you some privacy. I gotta pee the tub of lemonade we had earlier.”

Olivia left the living room, thoughts on the lovey-dovey look in Denali’s eyes. She decided to take off her makeup and moisturize, to give her more time alone with her gift.

When she came back out, Denali was not where she’d left her.

“Nali?”

“In here!”

Olivia followed the voice to the bedroom and found her sitting criss-cross on the bed, looking over a spread of candy, trinkets, heart shaped baubles and, held close to Denali’s chest, a stack of postcards with handwritten notes on them. Olivia’s heart warmed at the sight, then flipped when she saw Denali’s smile, wavering from the tears held back.

“It’s one postcard from every city they’ve been to,” she explained. “She wrote about something that reminded her of me from each place.” Denali placed each card on the duvet with care. Olivia sat down next to her, but averted her gaze from the notes. Some things were meant to be kept between two people.

She rested her head on Denali’s shoulder and admired the spread, so lovingly picked, so abundant it covered half of the bed.

“This is beautiful, Dee, I’m so happy for you,” she said, smiling against her girlfriend’s shoulder.

Denali jolted from under her and stretched across the land of candy.

“There is more,” she said.

“More?” Olivia asked, puzzled. “Baby, I don’t know if you can fit more in this apartment.” Her eyes trailed over the shelves in Denali’s room, crowded with medals and trophies and toys, and, to Olivia’s delight, her own current knitting project, and the book Rosé had been reading last.

“No need,” said Denali, sitting back and placing a box on Olivia’s lap. “This one’s for you.”

“Oh, baby, you already got me the perfume I wanted. We agreed on just one gift,” Olivia protested half-heartedly. Denali’s smile grew impossibly wider.

“It’s not from me,” she said, tapping the card on the box. “Read it!”

Olivia opened the card and, sure enough, it wasn’t Denali’s handwriting. But it was almost as familiar.

Liv:

You’re walking sunshine. I know your brain is shaped like a candy heart, and, if auras exist, yours is bright pink. This holiday seems tailor made for you, so it’s only fair that you’re celebrated.

Thank you for being a true friend, a great meta, and a total sweetheart.

Happy V-Day!

-Rosé

Olivia stared at the lines, tracing them over and over to make sure she had not misread anything.

Sunshine. Rosé had called her “sunshine”, and “sweetheart”.

The pet names branched off into new lines of thought, but Olivia cut them short. She opened the box, and gasped.

Her favorite chocolates from childhood, impossible to get in their city. Rosé must have found them on tour… And she’d remembered from, God, what was it, six months ago? Olivia had mentioned the chocolates in passing at a gathering, over daiquiris at Rosé’s place. She’d felt so happy to be there, so easily welcomed.

“Oh, oh, wait,” Denali’s voice interrupted the memory. “I know that face. It’s your crush-face.”

“Pfff, I don’t have a crush-face!” Olivia dismissed. Denali just turned to look at her better.

“Yes, you do! And you’re blushing!” she grinned. “Liv, do you have a crush on my girlfriend?” Denali gasped in faux shock, but it still made Olivia blush harder. “You do!” Denali threw her arms in the air, full on bouncing in her seat, and made some things fall off the bed in her excitement. “Oh, shit.” She slid off the bed to find them. It gave Olivia the moment she needed to gather her thoughts.

Did she have a crush on Rosé?

She definitely liked her. She was smart, and so funny, and had welcomed Olivia with open arms the minute Denali had brought her into their lives. She was a good friend, and a good meta.

But she was also gorgeous, and confident, and clearly attentive and caring. Olivia just hadn’t expected to be on the receiving side of that. Only on the sidelines, watching Denali bask in the attention.

But… but sometimes, Rosé would wink at her, or give her a smile just so, and it made Olivia wonder.

Denali peeked up from her spot on the floor and placed back the few sweets that had fallen. She then hooked her chin on the duvet and carefully eyed Olivia. She was giving her time. As much as she teased, as blunt as she was, Denali always knew how to wait. Olivia loved her more every day, she was certain. She felt it sometimes, in the way her rib cage expanded with each breath, as if to make room for the feeling. At the moment, she let one breath fill her lungs, and let it fall from her mouth with her doubts.

“How would- I mean, what would we do?” Olivia asked, hoping her girlfriend could fill in the blanks in the question. From the way Denali shrugged her shoulders, lifting a weight from Olivia’s, she could.

“You would do what you feel comfortable doing, just like we did. And Rosie and I before that, and Rosie and Mik later. This wouldn’t be any different just ‘cause you’re both dating me.”

There was pride in Denali’s smile at that statement. There was also simplicity, like she was so sure of those facts, like it was all that simple. And Olivia believed her.

“We’re getting ahead of ourselves, though, I think?” she still said, shrinking into the mattress a little. “A gift is not a declaration.” She clutched the box a bit tighter.

“A Valentine’s gift,” Denali reminded her. Then, she blew a raspberry. “I’d love to play matchmaker, baby, but I’ve been told by many, many people that I’m not allowed to meddle because I’m a force of chaos. So…” she trailed off, eyes wandering around the room, clearly waiting for questions. And Olivia just had to give into her.

“So…? What are you not telling me?”

“That Rosé is not huge on Valentine’s Day. She doesn’t get gifts for her friends. Ever. And she firmly believes it’s a day reserved for a special, specific kind of bond,” Denali explained, looking pointedly between Olivia and the box in her hands. When Olivia was about to protest, she continued: “And, and! Even without the gift, I’ve seen how she looks at you. And I’ve heard how she talks about you.

Denali pressed her smile against her arms, perched on the bed. She looked at Olivia with that “teenager at a sleepover” gleam in her eyes, which she got whenever the topic of crushes came up. “There is something there. And I’m not just saying that because I think it’d be insanely hot to watch my two smoking girlfriends make out.”

Olivia laughed, tension seeping off her body in waves. She tapped Denali’s nose like she was a rebellious puppy.

“If we let you watch, you creep.”

Denali’s eyes grew wide.

“So you’re thinking about it?” she asked. Olivia nodded, decidedly.

“I’m thinking about it.”

Denali let out a squeal and climbed up onto the bed, to wrap herself around Olivia in a hug.

“Fun!”

She cupped Olivia’s cheeks and kissed her slow and sweet.

“Now, I still have the rest of Valentine’s Day to spend with my beautiful girlfriend, watching dumb movies and eating our way through this pile of candy. Let’s get to it!”

#rpdr fanfiction #olivia lux #denali foxx #rosé #denali x olivia #rosnali #olivia x rosé #poly #valentine's day #lesbian au #mar #concrit welcome #submission

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witchymarvelspacecase · 5 years ago

Text

Alternate Endgame

Summary: Fuck Endgame. Reader has precognitive abilities and we’re gonna fix this stupid movie.

Warnings: Cursing, endgame spoilers, maybe some tears?, fluff

WC: 4816

AN: It took me for-fucking-ever, and it is CRAZY long, but here it is.

Forever love to @writingwithadinosaur for CONTINUING to put up with my empty promises to write.

You woke with a start; heaving deep breaths that just couldn’t seem to fill your lungs. You were coated in a sheen of cold sweat. It had been months-- no, years since you'd had a premonition that strong, and you were more than a little shaken.

Not thinking you reached over for the man sleeping beside you, but your fingers only met cool sheets. Of course they did. It had been 5 years since Sam had… disappeared, he wouldn’t simply reappear in your bed because you’d had a vision. No matter how much you wanted him to.

Before Thanos, Sam had been there for you. You’d started as teammates, then friends, then more. Sam was everything. He was sweet, funny, and loyal. The fact that he was gorgeous certainly didn’t hurt either. He’d helped you process your visions. He’d hold you, press kisses to your temple, and let you talk through what happened if you could. If you couldn’t he was more than up to distract you. God you missed him. You missed his touch, you missed his voice, missed the tiny birds he’d draw on your mirror, or mission paperwork, or the small bird figurines he’d hide throughout your room. It hurt even more intensely, waking from a vision after so long, and finding him still gone.

As moments passed, and your breathing became less panicked, your mind began to clear, and details of your vision slowly, but clearly came back. Pain, a lot of pain, and death. There was hope, you thought for a second that you’d heard Sam’s voice… but there was so much risk involved. And the deaths you saw… you couldn’t take anymore death.

FUCK no. You wouldn’t let it happen like that. No way.

Knowing that sleeping again would be impossible, you dragged yourself out of bed, intending to make coffee, but paused at your bedroom door. Turning abruptly, you walked instead to your closet. Reaching onto the top shelf, you pulled down a large zip top bag with a few of Sam’s sweatshirts inside. You pulled one out and quickly re-sealed the bag. Bringing the fabric to your face and inhaling the lingering scent of detergent, cologne, and Sam, had fresh tears springing in your eyes. But it also brought a sense of determination, and confidence.

Sam was with you. He wasn’t gone permanently, and he believed in you. He loved you.

Pulling the sweatshirt over your PJs, you left your room with a new sense of purpose.

…

The Aether; the reality stone. One of 6 infinity stones that had enabled Thanos’s snap. It had been given to the collector many years ago, and it was your only hope.

Of course, that was assuming that the rest of your team figured out the whole time travel thing.

Exhaling, you shook your head in disbelief. Time travel.

Aliens, gods, titans, and now time travel.

Before Carol had brought Tony and Nebula back, time travel would have been as ridiculously out of reach as it sounded. But with Tony back? You could see time travel being a distinct possibility, and a quick one.

Tony was refusing to help, which hurt, but you understood. He didn’t want to risk losing his daughter. Given how life seemed to take from Tony, his resistance made sense. Were Morgan your daughter, you wouldn’t risk her either.

Although, caution didn’t sit well with Tony Stark. You had a feeling he would be unable to keep himself from at least trying to work out time travel now that he had an idea. He would try, and probably tweak his equation until it functioned flawlessly.

Tony would figure it out. And when he did, he would feel obligated to help; he wouldn’t be able to keep the knowledge that the team needed away from them. That meant you needed to learn as much as you could about the Aether before Tony figured out time travel. If it were anyone else, you would have had plenty of time.

Your original plan, to ask Thor, was a non-starter. The god of thunder had been through the fucking ringer. Honestly, you were shocked he was doing as well as he was. As soon as you could, you planned to sit with him awhile. Nothing invasive, but you got the feeling he wanted to talk, but didn’t know where to start.

Dr. Banner was able to fill in some blanks for you, but not enough.

Thankfully, once you were able to contact him, Wong was a veritable treasure trove of information. He was able to walk you through the process of using an infinity stone, being that he was the only one left alive who had done so in the past. Or, almost the only one.

“Rocket,” you called. The small creature had been across the room, talking to Thor, but came over as you waved him to you. “I need your help.”

“With what?” he seemed genuinely curious, and then a little taken aback when you began to explain.

“I’m not sure you’ve been told what I can do,” you began. When Rocket shook his head, you explained your premonitions.

“And these visions are always accurate?” he asked, his furry little face serious.

“Yes. The visions are accurate, but meant as a warning. So far, when I have interfered, the future has been altered, and whatever I’d seen could be avoided.” Then, you proceeded to tell him about the future you’d seen in your most recent vision. “I can’t- I won’t lose any more of my family, Rocket. This plan I have, I- it will work, but I need your help.” Your expression was beseeching.

The raccoon didn’t ponder long though. “What’d’ya need?”

“I need you to tell me as much as you can remember about when Quill held the infinity stone, and when we have to go and retrieve the fucking things, I need you to help me get a specific one.”

Luckily, Rocket was willing to trust you. Something told you he didn’t trust easily, especially not when what you were telling him couldn’t be proven one way or another, but he’d lost a lot of people too. It seemed he was ready to take a chance.

When it came time to be split into groups to collect the stones, Rocket helped to ensure you were on the team with him and Thor, headed to Asgard.

Next step. Rock climbing practice, a lot of it.

…

“Bruce, I need a favor.” You crossed your fingers, hoping he didn’t ask too many questions regarding your request.

Though Rocket knew a good portion of your plan, he didn’t know all of it. The fewer people who knew, the better. It wasn’t easy to convince Bruce to give you the extra pym particle. You’d stopped Scott from accidentally using one up, so there was one left, but Bruce was hesitant to give it to you. It wasn’t until your eyes began to water and your voice began to crack that Bruce caved; he couldn’t handle tears. Though you hadn’t planned to cry, it had worked in your favor.

Actually, the hard part was getting Bruce to keep his mouth shut about you having the extra particle. Bruce had a hard time lying to anyone. You needed everyone as in the dark as possible, especially Clint and Natasha, or your plan wouldn’t work.

…

“See you in a minute,” Natasha said with a smile. You gave a smile back, hoping it didn’t appear strained and took a deep breath before “jumping” to Asgard, ten years in the past.

Thor was thoroughly distracted, with good reason, so it was a good thing you had Rocket on your side.

“I hope you know what you’re doin’,” Rocket grumbled as you took the carefully contained Aether from him.

“You and me both,” you replied quietly.

“Good luck.”

You gave him a small smile before triggering your suit.

…

You appeared just far enough back that Nat and Clint didn’t hear you, but close enough that you could see them heading up one side of the mountain. They headed up the side that was clearly meant to be climbed, you however, went to the opposite side; a sheer rock face with a drop from an unbelievable height.

You’d received an odd look from Tony when you’d asked for a part of Peter Parker’s Spiderman suit. He’d given the gloves to you without asking the question that was clearly on the tip of his tongue, but you knew there would be many questions later as a result. The gloves’ grip wasn’t nearly as strong as it would have been for Peter, but they would be much better than nothing. Your other tools had been easy to obtain and stuff in a backpack; a combination ice axe and climbing hammer, pitons, carabiners and high strength climbing rope. Hopefully, the practice you’d managed would be enough.

Taking a deep breath you reached up and began your ascent. You needed to get as far up as you could and quickly, so that you could be in place and relatively stable when you needed to use the stone.

You forced the pitons into the rock face and secured yourself, freeing your hands and arms to use the stone, and more importantly, catch Natasha. The two tasks had to be done simultaneously, or your plan wouldn’t work.

Vormir’s guardian, and Clint needed to see Natasha fall, and believe she was dead in order to free the soul stone, but Natasha couldn’t die.

It felt like no fucking time had passed between when you finally anchored yourself and you could hear Nat and Clint arguing.

“Showtime.”

Using the stone, you warped reality around yourself not a moment too soon, as Natasha was suddenly hanging just above you.

“Damn you!” Clint shouted. Natasha had clipped him to an anchor she’d shot into the cliff, saving him, and now she was dangling from his outstretched arm.

“Let me go,” she said, almost calmly.

You knew in her mind, she was doing the right thing. Knew she was decided, resolved.

“No, please no,” Clint was crying. This would destroy him.

“It’s okay,” Natasha soothed ineffectively.

“Please-” Clint begged, but Natasha kicked off the cliff, forcing Clint to lose his grip.

For a moment, it felt like everything froze, then you blinked and reality seemed to split in front of you. You could see what you’d created for Clint and the guardian to see, but you could also see Natasha hanging safely from the second piton you’d secured just to the side of you.

“What the-” she broke off, seeing the distorted reality of herself falling to her death. When you reached over and touched her shoulder, her head whipped around, suddenly able to see you and the reality stone.

“What the fuck-” You silenced her with a finger to your lips. You weren’t sure whether or not you could be heard by Clint or the guardian. Waiting just a few seconds until you saw Clint disappear, you released the control you had on the stone and gestured for Natasha to trigger her suit to return home.

She looked like she really wanted to argue, but she did as you asked.

Clint’s knees hit the floor and he almost dropped the soul stone when he turned and saw Natasha standing beside him. Tears were flowing down his face and all sorts of nasty curses in a multitude of languages flew from his lips.

“Don’t you ever fucking do something like that again! Do you hear me, Tasha?! Fuck! You can’t give your life for mine. What the fuck were you- how did you-” Clint cut off and pulled Nat into a tight hug.

“I can’t promise never to do something like that again, Clint. I don’t know what happened. I thought-”. Natasha cut off too, tears in her eyes. She had been resolved to die to save Clint and the others, but she was glad she hadn’t had to.

“What exactly happened?” Bruce asked, looking from Nat and Clint to you.

“What?” Clint asked, looking from Nat to you.

“Ask them. I sure as fuck didn’t know what was happening,” Natasha said on a long exhale.

You noticed Rocket and Tony were also looking your way. When Nat pulled far enough away from Clint to face you, they both looked at you too.

All eyes on you. Great.

“Well, I had a vision…”

You explained part of your vision. To be fair, you would have explained the whole thing, you wanted to, but there was a niggling feeling at the back of your mind telling you that you weren’t done. You couldn’t tell everyone. It sucked, but your friends-- your family would understand. When it all worked out, you would tell them, but not yet.

…

The final tweaks were made to the new gauntlet. You watched as Tony, Rocket, and Bruce hovered around the thing, clearly unsure if it was ready.

But you were only barely watching. As Tony’s attention was drawn away, you drew over to his latest Iron Man suit. You’d talked with Rocket, and had some idea the power the stones would put out, with that in mind…

“FRIDAY, could I bother you for a moment?” you asked politely.

“Of course. What can I do for you?”

…

Not a fucking moment after Bruce snapped his fingers and the compound was totaled. Most of the structure was underground, along with several of the team.

Shit.

The worst part of having premonitions was that you couldn’t see everything. The visions would scare the shit out of you, and give you just enough information to run on, but never the whole picture. Thus, you found yourself running with Clint and Natasha through an underground maze of destruction trying to avoid the fucked up alien hoard that was chasing you.

ANY of that information would have been nice to know ahead of time.

It also would have been nice to know that a past version of Nebula was somehow in the present.

Fortunately that problem was “solved” when present nebula showed up and shot her past self… God you couldn’t wrap your head around all this shit.

A fight was underway as you cleared the tunnels, and it did not look good for your side. Although you noticed with a little shock, that Steve was holding Mjolnir. Or he was until Thanos knocked it from his hand, and cracked his shield.

All you could see then was Steve, barely standing, alone, facing an army increasing in size. Your heart was racing. You knew Steve wouldn’t give in. You hadn’t seen him die, but that didn’t mean his life wasn’t at risk. Fuck! What were you going to do?!

Then a voice you hadn’t heard in years crackled over the comms, “Hey, Cap, you read me? Cap, it's Sam. Can you hear me?” and a glowing yellow portal appeared next to Steve. “On your left.”

Seeing Sam, in his Falcon suit, fly through the portal, you almost hit the ground.

“Sam,” you whispered, tears in your eyes, but a growing smile on your face.

“Hey babe, miss me?” You could hear the smirk on his face, and though it would have bothered you before, it made you laugh now.

Your team had a chance. Hundreds of portals opened and thousands of people poured from them. You could vaguely hear chanting from the Wakandans, and see glowing shields being formed by the masters of the mystic arts. New hope and resolve formed in your chest.

“Every fucking day, Sam. Now let's end this so I can yell at you for disappearing on me.” He laughed, and you both ran into the hoards of Thanos’ followers.

…

Unfortunately, though the reinforcements were amazing, and desperately needed, Thanos and his army weren’t backing down.

Carol powered through ships, and struggled with Thanos, but she couldn't overpower him. When you saw her fall, and Tony began approaching the giant murder grape, you recognized your time to act.

“Carol,” you called as she rose, shaking debris from her hair. When she met your eyes, you waved her over. During the fight, you’d managed to speak to Thor, Dr. Strange and Wanda. They all knew you had a plan, though Strange seemed dubious, and they had all agreed to help. The fact that you’d managed to corral them all was a fucking miracle in and of itself, but what you were about to do, was still gonna be difficult.

Your group managed to stay out of Tony’s field of vision. What he was about to attempt, had to happen. What you needed was to reach him in time to alter the aftereffects.

“I am– inevitable,” Thanos announces, snapping his fingers, which would have been gut wrenching, had the mad titan actually had the infinity stones in his gauntlet.

However, unbeknownst to him, Tony Stark had swiped them right out of his hands. Tony Stark, who was now pulsing with immense amounts of gamma radiation and pure power from the ancient relics.

“And I– am– Iron Man.” Tony snapped his fingers. That was your cue. You, and the most powerful teammates you had, reached out, and took Tony’s left hand. Power and pain radiated through your body. And that was all you remembered.

…

The rocky ground beneath you was not comfortable, but you were barely aware of the sharp stones digging into your back since your whole body felt like you’d been in a car accident.

“Fucking ow,” you groaned.

“Well what did you expect? Trying to divert that level of radiation; you’re lucky your crazy stunt didn’t kill you!” Dr. Strange was in full lecture mode it seemed. You could hear Thor and Carol talking just behind you, and when you cracked your eyes open, you caught a glimpse of Wanda’s magic trailing behind her. Your eyelids felt like there were hundred pound weights on them. Why couldn’t you keep them open?

Wait!

It took a full second and a half for your brain to re-engage; quickly recapping the past few days. You bolted into an upright sitting position, all but shrieking in pain as your gritty eyes frantically searched for one figure amidst hundreds.

“Hey kid, you gonna explain all this to me now? I don’t like being in the dark.” You looked directly behind you and burst into tears. Tony was looking at you with a slightly exasperated look on his face, belayed by the small smile on his lips.

“It worked,” you sobbed.

“I don’t know what all has been going on in this place, but I know you’re not supposed to be upset that we won,” came Sam’s voice. He walked up behind Tony, clapping him on the back as he stepped past him to crouch down beside you. “Hey, Gorgeous. I missed you.”

A wet laugh exploded from your chest, “I fucking missed you too, Sammy.” Your eyes overflowed and your smile wobbled as he rested his forehead on yours.

“It’s okay. I’m here. I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere. I love you,” he soothed, cupping the side of your face and rubbing across your cheekbone with his thumb. He was home. Sobs shook you, and you knew it would be a while before you were able to stand. Or it would have been if Sam hadn’t picked you up and insisted on carrying you.

He didn’t let you out of his sight for several days.

…

It was actually weeks later, after some of the rubble had been cleared from where the compound once stood, before you finally explained what had happened.

Not everyone was able to cram into Tony’s living room, so some people; Dr. Strange, and King T’challa and his people were there via remote communication. Rocket had even rigged up some sort of communications device into the Guardian’s ship so they could hear too.

“I had a vision,” you started. You were sitting in Sam’s lap, across from most of your family. Natasha sat in an armchair, with Clint perched on the arm. They’d both gone home to see his family almost immediately after the fight, but they both insisted on hearing what had happened.

Scott and Hope shared a couch. Bruce stood just behind it.

Steve and Bucky were standing next to each other just to the side of you and Sam. They weren’t standing beside you, they wanted an explanation just as much as the others, but the two men were close with Sam, so it seemed they wanted to show that they supported you, as his girlfriend.

Tony was in an armchair across from Natasha and Clint. Thor stood behind his chair, and Wanda sat on the floor between the couch and Tony’s armchair. Even Carol was there, she sat backwards on a kitchen chair that she’d dragged into the room.

“We figured as much,” Tony replied. He smiled as his daughter ran into the room and all but threw herself onto Tony’s lap. He picked her up and situated her comfortably before continuing. “What exactly did your vision show.”

“For the most part, I saw just what happened. I saw you figure out the time travel thing. I saw us split into teams to get the stones. That's where I intervened,” you paused. Sam gave your hip a gentle, supportive squeeze. You hadn’t told him what you’d seen yet, but he knew you. Knew you were trying to say something that had gone horribly wrong.

“I asked Bruce for the extra Pym charge, and I asked Rocket for some information, and to help me get on the team that went to Asgard.”

You saw Thor straighten then. He’d begun to take care of himself again, though you knew he was still overwhelmingly sad and lonely, he seemed to be working his way out of the deep rut he’d been in. “I don’t recall actually getting the stone. I was too distracted by my- my mother. Rocket did not show me the stone either. I just assumed he had it.” Thor looked at you, an unidentifiable emotion on his face. “Why did you need to be on our team?”

“I needed the reality stone. Wong and Rocket helped me get an idea of how to use it. And then I needed the extra Pym charge to take me to Vormir.”

Natasha’s brow furrowed. “I was supposed to die, wasn’t I?” she asked calmly. Clint stiffened beside her.

“No, you died in my vision. You weren’t supposed to die. That’s why I fixed it,” you gave her a look that brooked no argument, and she smiled in return.

“I used the stone to make it look like Natasha had died. Clint and Vormir’s guardian had to believe that it had happened. The only way to get the stone was-”

“To lose what you loved,” Clint finished for you. You nodded. “I had to believe it or it wouldn’t have worked.” You nodded again, though he hadn’t phrased it as a question.

“I’m really sorry you had to see that, Clint, but it was the only way I could think to make it work.” You really were sorry. You knew Clint sometimes woke from horrible nightmares, occasionally about his family disappearing again, but also about seeing Nat fall.

He shook his head, and you let the subject lie.

“No wonder you were so fucked up when we all got back,” Steve said quietly to Clint. Then he turned to you. “That’s not it, is it?”

“No.” You looked to Tony.

“The suit wouldn’t have held that much power,” Tony concluded. “I didn’t think it would, but I didn’t have the time to strengthen it. I just didn’t know-”

“I know,” you said. “I had FRIDAY make some tweaks when you weren’t looking.” If it was possible to look proud and affronted at the same time, that’s how you would have described Tony’s expression. “Then, using the info I’d gotten from Rocket, I figured out how to displace the power, instead of letting it hit you alone.” You nodded at Carol, Thor, and Wanda. “I pulled the strongest people I knew, and lined us all up behind you before grabbing your shoulder just as you used the stones. The power was distributed to all of us, and we were able to hold, and diffuse it with no ill effects. I don't think it’s something anyone could have thought to do in the moment, it only happened because I had that vision.” You looked at Nat and Tony again. “After all we’ve been through, I couldn’t live in a world without you guys. Any of you,” you added, looking at everyone.

Tony had his arm wrapped tight around Morgan. And you heard a muffled sob from just behind you, turning a little, you saw Pepper. You winced, you hadn’t intended her to hear this. She saw your expression and shook her head. “Thank you,” she mouthed before walking to Tony’s side. She gave him a kiss and held his free hand in a death grip.

Clint had a grip on Nat’s hand too. White lines formed at the corners of Thor’s mouth, and Wanda looked like she was having trouble processing all the emotions in the room, but her eyes focused on you.

“Why didn’t you tell us all this?” Bruce asked; he’d been quiet the whole time, though he’d known you had something going on earlier than most.

“I was afraid that if I said something, it would change something. I had no clue what was safe and what wasn’t and I knew-” you cut off, shifting to grip Sam’s hand, clearing your throat. “I knew if everything happened as it should, the dusted people would come back. I couldn’t risk that getting fucked up, just like I couldn’t let what I saw happen to Tony and Nat.” You squeezed Sam’s hand. “I’m sorry I kept this from you all, but I really couldn't risk it.” You closed your eyes, tilting your face to look at the floor.

You heard someone approaching, and felt Sam shift, but you didn’t open your eyes until you felt a hand on your shoulder. Natasha stood in front of you. As you looked up at her, you heard another set of footsteps approach. Tony appeared behind her. Steadily, your whole family came close. Natasha pulled you up, and into a tight hug. You felt Sam rise from behind you, he kept a hand on your hip. Tony put a hand on your shoulder, squeezing. Steve gripped your other shoulder. Bruce had a hand on one of your arms, which were around Natasha, and Clint gripped your hand. Looking around the room at the others, you saw pain, and gratitude in every face.

“Don’t keep shit like that to yourself again, you hear me?” Natasha grumbled, tears in her voice keeping her tone from being very threatening.

You let out a choked laugh. “I’ll do my best.”

“Clearly your best is damn good. I’ll take that any day,” Tony said. Tears were in his eyes, and there were tracks of them on his cheeks. “You did a good job, kid.”

“We’re proud of you.” Steve gave you a smile. Clint met your gaze and though his eyes were still warry, he gave you a smile, squeezing your hand.

Sam’s hand ran up and down your lower back as Natasha and the others stepped back. “You’re amazing, baby. You did good, just like always.” He wrapped his arm around you from behind and pressed a kiss to your temple.

Everyone settled back into their seats before Steve spoke again. “Is that all you changed? Nothing else we need to know.”

You laughed a little, drawing everyone's gazes again. “Well I did change one more thing, it wasn’t big though.”

“What was it?” Steve asked.

“I kept Scott from accidentally using a Pym Particle when he was talking about how they worked. That was the only way I could have one to use.”

Hope rolled her eyes, “seriously, Scott?” Clearly she was well aware of Scott’s inability to be smooth.

Scott’s face was beet red, but laughter filled the room. It seemed that the group would be able to move on from the news after all.

“I wasn’t gonna use it!” Scott insisted.

“If you had to be stopped, then yes, you were going to use it,” Hope argued, rolling her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

The room filled with laughter and you felt a weight lift off your shoulders. Leaning back into Sam, you let a long sigh escape you. It was over. The world was readjusting to having its missing members back, and after 5 years, you knew it would take a while, but, looking around the room, you had hope for the future.

You had your family after all. Your family, and your Sam. Everything was as it should be.

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