#but. fuck. look at him! his style! his stage presence! how could i not be intrigued??

[excelsior9173]

iii has the motherfucking nine inch nail docs

he has the korn adidas runners

i just know he and i would get along so well 😭 so fuckin jealous that he’s got both shoe collabs i would kill for, and also i looooooooove those bands so much???

the um. god the fangirling has gotten exponentially worse idk how i feel about it 😅

[sleepyhollands]

false god

PAIRING harry styles x reader

SUMMARY harry’s having trouble finding enough time to spend with y/n, even after she drops everything and joins him on tour. when they talk, they only seem to argue. when they don’t, they only seem to fuck.

WARNINGS she’s an angsty one— lots of miscommunication, poorly executed arguments, and general couple fighting content. BUT!! there is lots of really cute fluff at the end :> also, beware of smutty content such as soft!dom harry (my favorite), oral (f!receiving, implied m!receiving), unprotected p in v, a brief hesitation to get naked on y/n’s part, an even more brief mention of bondage play, harry leaves like one love bite, and tooth-rotting holding each other while having sex content. lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT 5.5k

AUTHOR’S NOTE fun fact this was supposed to be done months ago and then literally everything that could have gotten in my way did just that. but she’s here now!! writing this was a challenge but i feel so good about it now that it’s complete and i can’t wait for you all to read it. please lmk you enjoyed by leaving feedback and/or reblogging!! special thanks to @cherryjuiceblues for beta reading for me <3 ily <3

LOVER SELECTION one-shots here.

copyright © sleepyhollands. all rights reserved. || my masterlist.

“harry, it doesn’t matter if—”

“it does to me!”

“hey, there are two people in this relationship, you know.”

“yeah, an‘ one of ’em feels like right shit on what’s meant to be the greatest tour of his life! doesn’t that mean anythin‘ to you?”

“of course it does, i just—”

“really? ’cause y’could’ve fooled me, love.”

“harry, i swear, if you interrupt me one more time, i’m booking the next flight home.” 

… tour had been going really well for harry! he was playing back to back sold out shows in some of the biggest cities in the world, with adoring fans lining up by the thousands, itching to hear him sing live. he’d already had some really sweet interactions on stage, and no crazy mishaps had occurred (he was especially proud of himself for having ensured everyone’s safety so far). just in the last week alone, he’d been nominated for three different awards for his newest album and performances. anyone could see that he was living a dream— the dream, really. the kind that only comes true once in a blue moon. 

and yet… tour had been going really poorly for harry. now, he doesn’t like to complain about much; he knows just how fortunate he is, and actively tries to see the bigger picture when frustrated. but it was really hard to zoom out of his particular situation when he was so zeroed in on a particular aspect that had been bugging him for weeks— y/n. 

don’t get him wrong! y/n herself wasn’t what was bothering him. it was more so her presence, and his… lack thereof. 

if there’s one thing harry prides himself on more than anything, it’s being an attentive lover— even in the most innocent and platonic of ways. he tries his absolute hardest to be a supportive brother, a considerate son, a (hopefully) decent role model to those who look up to him, and especially a present, loving boyfriend. and for the most part, he’s just as successful in those aspects as he is in his career. in fact, y/n regularly speaks of how harry treats her like she hangs the stars in the sky just for him, how he makes her feel like the most special girl in the world. 

but this tour was taking its toll, and harry was taking it out on y/n. he’s never been great at communicating everything in the most positive of ways— that’s where he turns to songwriting— and he’d let his emotions get the better of him after letting them build up for the past couple of weeks. he wasn’t proud of himself, but he needed an outlet. 

harry didn’t mean to start the fight. but when y/n asked him where he’d been after a last minute management meeting following that night’s show kept him an extra half hour later than he said he’d be, it was like all the frustration just erupted. inadequacy is one of his least favorite feelings (next to loneliness), and being a barely-there or only-sometimes-there boyfriend couldn’t be more of a trigger for that particular emotion. 

now here they were, vexation filling the tour bus around them like a fog they could barely see through, inhaling it with every breath and releasing it back into the atmosphere surrounding them. harry huffed out a sigh, arms crossed and brow furrowed as he angrily looked out the window of the tour bus to distract himself for a moment, having to mentally step away from the argument at hand, even if just for a few seconds. watching as the dark streets outside shined with the headlights of other vehicles, he found himself wishing he were in one of them. it would be nice to be in a car alone, nothing but his thoughts and some music to keep him company. 

but he had real company. she was standing not six feet away from him, emulating his defensive position with her arms drawn across her own chest, jaw clenching and relaxing every other moment. when he finally turned to look at her again, he exhaled loudly. 

���we were crazy to think that this could work,” he mumbled, barely audible to y/n, but she was able to make it out. 

even when they fought, the girl seemed to be in sync with him, inhaling deeply, subconsciously countering his previous expulsion of breath. the yin to his yang.

“what are you talking about?”

harry groaned at her words. how didn’t she get this? “y/n, i’m never around! i wake up when you’re still asleep, prepare for the day, go to the venue, help set up the stage, sound check, rehearse a bit, and then ’m off t’go get ready for a show that lasts two hours. almost each night! i come back exhausted and aching to sleep! where d’you see yourself fitting in there?”

when y/n realized it was her turn to speak again, she said, “first off, do you think you could please calm down a little? i can’t talk to you when you’re like this.”

his eyes narrowed. “like what?”

“when you’re acting like a child, harry! i mean, for god’s sake, i’m not nine! i can handle hanging out on my own for a few days at a time and just getting to cuddle with you at night until you have a day off. it’s not like i don’t have things to do throughout the day, too.”

while harry tended to say things he didn’t exactly believe in the heat of the moment, y/n meant every word she uttered. she really was content relaxing in the tour bus or a hotel room taking care of work on her laptop, catching up on new episodes of her favorite shows, or even going out to explore whatever new city they were in by herself. harry had breaks between show days once or twice a week, and the thought of having those days to themselves was enough to sate her desire to spend time with him. it annoyed her that he didn’t understand that, as she’d never been the clingy type and was always very self-sufficient. 

“oh, i’m acting like a child, am i? right, i didn’t realize that wanting t’be present in my relationship with my girlfriend was childish, but hey, you learn something new every day, i s’pose.” 

oh, y/n was really starting to seethe now. letting her arms fall to her sides with a frustrated puff, she began again. 

“god, harry, you’re not childish for wanting to spend time together! i’m saying you need to realize that i’m perfectly capable of waiting for your days off to really spend time with you. you’re acting like we can’t function without each other!”

“the whole idea of you comin‘ on tour with me was to have this time together, y/n,” harry fired back. “if we’re barely going to get to see each other anyways, then what’s the bloody point?”

…

harry might have spoken too soon. at least, that’s what he thought as he laid overtop y/n on the tour bus couch, because now the point might very well be getting to just feel her lips on his every now and again. 

it was late; harry had just come back from a show. usually, he’s too tired to do anything but crash onto a cloud-like mattress after all the jumping around he does on that stage, but this time all he wanted was his girl. it’d started innocently enough, with harry pulling y/n into his lap on the worn, red leather of the couch. his hands roamed along her hips and down to her waist beneath her soft hoodie (which wasn’t even technically her’s, but is it really theft if harry just leaves his clothes lying around for her to nab?), exploring the soft expanse of her skin, not straying any lower. her own hands were hidden in his curls, lightly scratching at his scalp in what she hoped were soothing motions. 

harry knew he was done for once he initiated the kiss. tentative at first, he pressed light pecks along the corner of her mouth, quick and feathery, like he didn’t really care if he got to kiss her so much as he got to hold her, or simply be with her. but soon, the eagerness set in, like he wasn’t sure when the next time he’d get to have her was, and suddenly he was capturing her mouth with his own, barely giving her a chance to breathe as he tasted her. while harry never really believed in a higher power, he could have sworn he found religion in her lips. 

things only escalated from there. it wasn’t long before harry was wrapping his muscular arms around y/n, so tight that he accidentally squeezed too hard, earning a squeak from the girl. he muttered a hushed but sincere “’m sorry, darling,” to compensate. one hand supported her head, the other splayed across her back as he laid her against the cushions so that he could keep loving on her on the way down. he relished her little whimpers that she tried so hard to suppress, grinning against her jawbone, her neck, any skin he came across on his journey south to more pressing territory. 

harry didn’t bother removing y/n’s hoodie, opting instead to push it up past her naval in favor of gaining access to the waistband of her fluffy sleep shorts. he felt her hands tighten their grip ever so slightly on his shoulders as he hooked his fingers under it, relaxing again when he rubbed the pad of his thumb delicately along her hipbone, reminding her it was only him. 

it was a thing with y/n. she loved harry, of course she did, and she trusted him more than anyone. and maybe it was the way she was brought up, or perhaps a few poor experiences with sexual partners in the past, but there was always a fleeting moment of anxiety before shedding the clothing barrier before sex. like dipping a toe into a cold lake and hesitating a little, then ultimately deciding that jumping in wouldn’t be so bad. 

harry never pried. the first few times they’d slept together, he noticed her nerves, and asked her if she was sure she wanted to continue. y/n had said yes each time, and after a while, he stopped asking. but still, whenever he noticed that brief nervous shift, harry gave her a chance to change her mind. 

this time, he bided his time by sponging tender kisses right above where his fingers were still half hidden under her shorts. he wanted her to feel safe, and taken care of, and he hoped his gentle touches and even breathing could remedy her anxiety. as he waited, harry’s mind drifted…. he was getting lost in the feel of her soft skin, its dips and curves and blemishes. he thought about her waist, how his hands fit so perfectly against its sides; her tummy, and how the muscles there jolted when he tickled them; and her hips… god, if y/n’s body was a church, her hips could be the altar. harry was ready to say a prayer right then, thanking every higher power for blessing him with this gorgeous girl—

“harry?” his love’s melodic voice interrupted his thoughts, and harry’s eyes snapped up to meet hers, his nose continuing to skim just above her navel. “um… you can keep going. please.” 

the corner of harry’s mouth quirked upward, and y/n could have sworn she caught a glimpse of mischief in the jade of his irises, but it was gone in an instant, as he wasted no time in stripping her of her bottoms.

…

“god, h-harry,” panted y/n, her grip on his curls constricting with every lick to her core, “’s so good, oh—”

“would feel even better if y’stopped trying t’run away from me, wouldn’t it? don’t wanna have to tie you down.”

y/n couldn’t help it! it wasn’t her fault if harry’s tongue was just too good and her body’s natural reaction was to attempt to escape his grip for a little relief. if anything, he should be happy— they’d been at this for so long y/n lost count of the minutes, and after two toe-curling orgasms, one would think harry’s jaw could use a break. 

but that thought flew out the window when y/n remembered who she was metaphorically in bed with. 

“’m sorry…,” she whimpered, gripping the side of the couch cushion as her eyes squeezed shut.

“don‘ have to be sorry, darling,” harry mumbled against her folds, chin glistening with her arousal as he placed a soft kiss to y/n’s clit, making her jolt in his hold. he breathed a short laugh, adjusting his arms so that one held her upper thigh next to his head, while the other pinned her hips to the red leather, restricting her ability to move. “jus’ wanna make you feel as good as possible, is all. will y’let me?”

harry turned his head, nipping at the inside of the girl’s thigh, and she gasped at the brief assault on the softest skin of her body, now adorning the mark of his front teeth that she loved so much. she shuddered a breath as best she could, and harry could tell by the way her knuckles were turning white in their grip on the couch that she was trying her best to be good. feeling a twinge of guilt, he figured maybe he should offer her a second to breathe. y/n opened her eyes when she felt harry’s lips retreat from her aching cunt and the weight of his head rest against the love bite. 

“hey.”

y/n cast her gaze down upon the boy (who looked far too innocent, considering what they were doing) with his cheek laid on her inner thigh, stray hairs tickling her just a tad. playfulness swam in his eyes, but there was an underlying current of concern. 

“doin‘ okay?”

she nodded, gulping. harry noticed. 

“because we can take a break if you want to. just say the word, okay?”

“i will, i-i promise. but… can you please keep going?”

that was all he needed to get right back into it, only with even more fervor than before. when y/n reached her third and final peak of the night, her whole body shook, and harry had the pleasure of getting to watch as he helped her ride out her high. he almost came in his pants, rutting his hips into the sofa, moaning against her core, begging her give it t’me, love, that’s it.

harry pulled back when she started pushing at his head, whining for relief as he gave one final lap at her core. he grinned at her fucked-out figure as he wiped his face on his forearm, then took her hand that had been grasping at the cushion in one of his, bringing the back of it to his lips for a gentle kiss. 

“feel all right, baby?”

“mhm,” she hummed between heaving breaths, glancing at what she assumed could only be a quite painful stiffy between his legs as he sat up, “do you?”

harry followed her line of vision, offering her a chuckle and an i’m fine, using his free hand to smooth his thumb along her brow. before he could even register it, her palm slipped from the grip of his other hand and traveled down to rub against the bulge in his pants, earning a sharp hiss from her boyfriend and a deep groan soon after. 

“why don’t you let me repay the favor?”

…

harry was pretty sure y/n was asleep. if she wasn’t, she was definitely on the verge— her breaths were deep and even as she laid in his hold, her head on his chest, ear pressed overtop his steadily beating heart. and who could blame her? the evening’s activities had worn her out, which meant harry had done his job properly. he was more than happy to be wide awake, running his fingertips up and down her arm, inhaling the sweet scent of her fruity body wash while she dreamt if it meant she was rested and content and happy. 

moments like these made harry think they could get away with it. the long hours spent apart, the hectic schedules, the fighting. sure, it was tough, and yes, they both had a temper that rivaled one another’s for the ‘least amount of patience award’ on any given day. but every missing ounce of patience was compensated by double its weight in love. they loved one another enough to make it work. 

they could make this work. 

right?

…

“jesus, harry, how do you think that makes me feel? you’d honestly rather i not be here? are you actually that insecure?”

“c’mon, y/n, you know tha’s not what i meant.”

y/n felt like they were going around in circles, having the same fight over and over again. only this time, the couple found themselves in a beautiful hotel room, with a beautiful view overlooking a beautiful city. and instead of getting to enjoy it, y/n was glaring at harry though the vanity mirror, his back facing her as he tamed his wild curls for tonight’s show… which he had to leave for in just a few short minutes. 

the balled up fist on y/n’s hip flew up to her face, fingers flexing to pinch at the bridge of her nose as her eyes squeezed shut for a moment. 

“i can’t believe this. i dropped everything to be here with you— to support you on the most incredible tour of your career— and instead of being happy i’m here as opposed to the alternative of thousands of miles away in a different time zone for months, you’re sitting here bitching about being too tired?” 

harry sighed deeply, only infuriating y/n more. “you’re missing the point. ’s not that i don’t want you here, or just that ’m too tired. ’s knowing you’re sitting around by yourself, waiting on me while ’m working, when you could be out with friends and family, or sleeping in the comfort of your own bed—”

“that you’re not in!” the girl loudly interjected— how didn’t he get this? “i put all those things aside for us, har. it’s not like i’m leaving my life behind for years. christ’s sake, the tour is over in two months! but somehow, being away from my home and routine is easier than being in the same room as you right now.”

harry contemplated his next words carefully, turning them over in his head a few times and editing any obvious mistakes, leaving the pair of them to marinate in suffocating silence for a good ten or so seconds before he finally spoke. 

“y/n… i can’t be a good boyfriend and a serious artist simultaneously, okay? not while ’m on tour. i can’t keep losing sleep over how well i’m balancing—”

“okay, you know what, harry? you know what? maybe you should just leave me, then. wouldn’t that be easier? you’d be able to sleep better at night, right?”

they both knew she didn’t mean it, though harry couldn’t lie and say it didn’t hurt to hear. but she was pissed, and harry knew better than to try to reason with her when she was like this. 

when she realized he wasn’t going to respond, instead electing to stare brokenly into the mirror, she continued. “you know damn well how hard i work for this relationship. i’ve flown across the oceans that have separated us, driven for hours just to get to see you for, like, one— hell, i’ve skipped some of my most important classes so we could go to shitty dive bars in the middle of the day together! yeah, remember that? i love you, okay? people who love each other are supposed to be grateful for any time they have together at all, no matter if it’s every day or once a year.”

y/n took a breath, finally cooling down after her heated rant. she took a moment to take in the sight of her boyfriend, dressed so vibrantly, feeling anything but. 

“they warned us about times like this,” the defeated tone of y/n’s whisper was enough to finally get harry to say something. 

“what was that, love?”

the girl swallowed the little saliva in her mouth before speaking up a mere decibel. “remember what my parents said? ‘the road gets hard, and you get lost when you’re led by blind faith,’” she imitated her father’s deep voice, and if not for the circumstances, harry might’ve laughed. 

they weren’t lost, were they?

…

if there was such a thing as heaven on earth, y/n is pretty sure she’s been there. in fact, she goes there whenever harry so much as touches her. 

when he kisses her shin as they lay watching a movie together on the couch, pulling her leg up off his lap and craning his neck downward to meet it in the middle. when he runs his fingers down the bridge of her nose, making an exaggerated boop! noise once he reaches the tip, gently pressing against it like a doorbell. and especially when he has her like this. 

harry’s arms felt secure wrapped around y/n’s torso, her hips moving back and forth atop his own. the feeling of his cock twitching and shifting inside her while her nipples rub deliciously along his chest made her dizzy, like she had just gotten off a loopy rollercoaster. harry’s back arched just slightly off the plush mattress of their hotel suite’s bed when y/n gave a little bounce, arms constricting around her and forcing a pleased sigh to fall from her lips. 

the girl hid her face in the crook of his neck, and harry could feel each and every hot breath against his skin. lost in pleasure, he let his large hands migrate from her hips down to her bum, where he gave a small pinch to the flesh, eliciting a yelp and a small jolt from y/n. 

“sorry, baby,” he laughed, “couldn’t help m’self.” harry gently flattened his palm against the now tender skin, rubbing there softly in an attempt to soothe the little ache he left. when he felt satisfied, he shifted to rubbing between her shoulder blades instead, his other arm still wrapped around her lower back as she returned to her previous rhythm above him. 

y/n could tell harry was enjoying himself. his groans alone were evidence enough, not to mention the little utterances of “shit, darling,” and “so good t’me,” he frequently let slip. but perhaps he just needed a bit more to reach his high, because without warning his hands were on her thighs, gripping tightly as he began to thrust upwards into her at a much quicker pace than she had originally set— it had her seeing stars in a matter of mere seconds. 

“oh, god— harry,” y/n gasped out, gripping the edge of the plush pillow by harry’s ear. she could feel him hitting that special spot inside her with every snap of his hips, and she couldn’t stop her eyes from rolling back into her head, muscles tightening all throughout her body. 

“almost there, angel… just…,” harry’s thrusts began to slow, becoming more deliberate, and now he was moving her hips to grind against his each time they met, sending y/n over the edge. 

y/n’s moans were long and drawn out as she came, body spasms making her hold on more tightly to harry for stability. she didn’t even hear him finish, too busy reveling in the euphoric feeling of cumming in his arms, surrounded by warmth and love and feeling the safest she had in a long while. 

it was moments like these where y/n couldn’t fathom how she’s ever been upset with harry. he was perfect, lying here under her unsteady body, breathing deeply not only to catch his breath, but to take in the smell of her. she wanted this for eternity. and if this was heaven, then surely hell was when they fought with each other. 

…

y/n thought she was dreaming at first, not used to being roused from her slumber by anything other than her well-timed alarm and the occasional bark of a dog on a nearby street. she expected that after blinking the sleep from her eyes a few times, the vague image of her favorite boy would dissipate, and she’d fall back into the comfort of her warm pillow. but when she squeezed them shut once, then twice, and her boyfriend’s face was still a foot away from her’s, brushing his fingertips up her nose and along her brow, she set aside her exhaustion in exchange for confusion.

now, harry knew better than to wake y/n up. in most circumstances, she’d tell him off, or gently kick at him to get him to leave her alone. he found it rather endearing, and it’s one of the reasons he’s so protective of her in her sleep— always holding her close to keep her safe, shielding her eyes from any light intruding on the space she lay, making sure both their phones were set to ‘do not disturb.’ but he had to make an exception, just this once. 

“darling,” she barely registered his whisper, “wake up f’me, please?”

a whine fell from y/n’s lips, her eyes scrunching shut as she turned her body away from him, which harry knew was code for let me sleep, for fuck’s sake! a smile graced his lips at the action, jotting down a mental note to make this up to her later. 

compensating for the newfound distance between them, harry scooted closer to her. he kneeled on the floor next to the bed, close to the pillows she rested upon. he laid one arm against the mattress, perching his chin on the back of his wrist. using his free hand, he continued to brush his fingertips lightly against his love’s cheek, her jaw— all along her face, really. god, her loves her face so much.  

“please, baby?”

harry had just come back from one of his best performances yet— the crowd’s energy was unmatched, the chemistry between him and his band members was palpable, and he’d managed to not get hit with any flying objects all night! but what really did it for him was the fan project he was surprised with at the end of the show. thousands of people in the room wore light-up bracelets that shone pink and blue during one of his favorite songs, ‘love of my life.’ if harry’s heart had been any more full in that moment, it might’ve exploded right there in his chest. 

he had been on cloud nine for a moment. but soon, realization washed over him in a way that squeezed at his lungs, stealing his breath for a second. the love of his life was somewhere miles away, probably sitting in their hotel room watching a comfort film, oblivious to anything he was feeling on that stage. he just wanted to go home to her and gush about what had happened, and how he wished she’d been there, and how it made so much sense that it would happen during ‘love of my life’ because it was the perfect representation of the amount of love he had for his, and how if she’d have been there, he would have looked directly at her and smiled the whole time. 

it made him realize how bloody stupid he was.

in retrospect, the conversation he’d needlessly just woken y/n up for could have waited until morning. but then harry wouldn’t have been able to sleep if he didn’t tell her he was sorry right away. 

a groan sounded through the room, followed by the ruffling of bedsheets as the girl turned back over to glare annoyedly at harry. he let out a soft laugh at her behavior. 

“’m sorry, baby. know you jus‘ wanna sleep right now, but ’s it okay if we talk for a mo‘?”

“now?” y/n asked in a gravelly voice.

“now, m‘ love.”

with a soft sigh, she relented, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from her eyes with her knuckles. harry caught the motion, bringing his hands up to pull hers away from her face. he didn’t like when y/n did that, as she always managed to do it too roughly. instead, he held her smaller hands in his own, getting up to sit on the edge of the bed, facing her. 

“what is it?” y/n asked through a yawn. harry looked at her for a moment— really looked at her— before responding.

“i’m sorry.”

it took her a moment to register his words. “for waking me up?”

harry laughed that dreamy laugh she loved so much, and it almost made up for the fact that she was up at twelve thirty in the morning. “no, y’little minx. not for that. well, yes, for that, but that’s not what i meant.”

“what are you sorry for, then?” 

harry looked at her with an expression y/n couldn’t place. it look him a few beats to speak. “i… i’m sorry i was such a prick before. i love that you’re here, an‘ that i get t’see you when i’m off. know you put aside a lot for this, an‘ i ruined it with m’own problems. didn’t mean to.”

y/n’s features softened at the boy’s sincerity, and if it weren’t for the warmth his hands encapsulating hers provided, she’d have reached out and held his face, peppering kisses over every dip and curve. 

“i know you didn’t…. i’m sorry, too.”

“for what?”

“i should’ve listened better. you were trying to tell me how you felt and i just disregarded it. that wasn’t very nice of me, either.”

the right corner of harry’s lips tugged upwards, morphing his mouth into that little half-grin y/n adored so much. “think we can get past it, darling?”

the girl scooted forward the tiniest bit, harry’s magnetic pull too hard to resist. though they were the only two in the room, she whispered, “i’ll forgive you if you forgive me.” harry liked how she made something so simple sound like a secret deal between them.

harry’s half-smile quickly quirked up, completing itself, and y/n swooned over his dimples and adorable bunny teeth. a short and quiet breath of a laugh fell past his lips, and for a moment, he just looked at her. but his gaze caught a glimpse of uncertainty in her eyes, and his grin faltered a bit. 

y/n was always good at hiding her true emotions when she wanted to. not when it really mattered, don’t get her wrong— she wasn’t one to take anyone’s shit. but at dinner with her parents or meetings at work, she was able to pretend she wasn’t exhausted or annoyed. it never worked with harry, though. he could read and understand her like his own lyrics, and tonight was no exception. he saw through the mask of humor at her uncertainty, and a pang of guilt bloomed in his chest. 

he let out a sigh as he beckoned her forward by gently tugging her hands, still in his, toward him. “c’mere, baby,” he said softly, pulling his love into his lap. y/n curled into him, knees tucked upward into her chest as his strong arms found purchase around her frame, holding her tenderly but securely. one of harry’s large hands held the back of her head against him, her ear right over his heart, listening to it beat for her. 

“love you like crazy. you’ve no idea.” he peppered light kisses to the top of her head, so softly she might’ve missed one or two. “thank you for comin‘ an‘ s’porting me. means the world, honestly.” 

“i’m happy to be anywhere with you, har,” she replied in a voice honey-thick with sleep. “even if it’s just for a few minutes. always so happy to have you.”

harry closed his eyes, laying back into the pillows, bringing y/n down with him so that she was laying overtop his sturdy body, inhaling his every exhale. 

“you have me,” he said, though he was almost certain she didn’t hear him, likely already pulled into the void of sleep, drawn in by the comfort of harry’s arms, his smell, him. 

“you’ll always have me.”

taglist (final time using the old one, see new link in bio): @fahsey @caswinchester2000 @lmaotshollandd @jackiehollanderr @nervousdadmode @amii-nyc @skitmix @auggie2000 @voguesir @yourgoldengirls @hunnybunimdun @lolooo22 @atoris-fantasy

[yutahoes]

Dom

I'll start by apologizing because this had been requested for so long and it had been in my drafts since last year. You could definitely see the shift in the writing styles in here and I can say that I wrote better last year.

Anyways, a little indulgent smut (?) fic to celebrate the release of Depth. Have you heard of all the songs in the album? What was your favorite so far? And the MV! What are your thoughts? I can't believe we're in the YUTA SOLO ERA! We only wished for this a long time ago but here we are now. So proud to be in this moment with you, fellow Yutamis.

characters: rockstar! boyfriend! Yuta Nakamoto x girlfriend! Reader genre: smut, fluff if you squint word count: 2.5k words summary: How to dom your dom (and failing at it) warnings: BADLY WRITTEN SMUT, rockstar Yuta, topless Yuta, curse words, exhibitionism, fingering, horny reader, edging, dominatrix, submissive reader, dominant Yuta, leather, handcuffs, pussy eating, squirting, penetrative sex, riding, arm obsession (can you blame me?), LAME ENDING (Will I be making another part of this? I don't have the strength but I wanted to.)

“Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!” 

“Encore! Encore! Encore!” 

The crowd kept on shouting, begging the rockstar to grace the stage with his presence for another song. 

"Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!" 

It was a jam-packed concert. Hours of singing his original songs in front of audiences who love him and Yuta Nakamoto's rocker charisma. 

"Yuta! Yuta! Yuta!" 

"Yuta," you moaned against his ear, breathless and low. One of his hands held the wall, trapping you between the solid concrete and his lean topless body. The other cupped between your legs, fingers exploring the wettest part of your body. 

"Encore! Encore! Encore!" 

"More," you begged. You grind your hips on his fingers as you feel him smirk against the crook of your neck. "Please," You were so desperate, eager for the much-needed release that has been coiling in your stomach for a while now. "I'm close." You didn't care if the staff behind the stage were giving you side glances. You didn't care if they eyed you as a dirty woman for getting worked up backstage from your rockstar boyfriend's fingers. You just wanted that release—that orgasm. 

The crowd cheered just as a static of the microphone could be heard. Your eyes widened in surprise when you felt the coldness between your bodies. Yuta, in his sexy state with sweat beads forming on his forehead and his immaculate skin, smirked as he walked away from you. You gave him a pleading gaze as he chuckled, "Yuta.” He shrugged then stepped forward once then kissed your lips quickly.

Your much-needed orgasm. 

A step back then another step forward before he cupped your face with his hands, "Just three songs left, baby." You pouted when he ran to the stairs heading to the stage, the song turning louder along with everyone's cheers. But you cannot wait that long. 

With a huff and frustration, you went back to his dressing room. You were so annoyed at the orgasm that it transcended to your boyfriend. You can hear the fans shouting and squealing his name. That should be you, screaming his name in pleasure. Your boyfriend's voice resonated throughout the area. And you can see, from the small monitor in the room, how he commanded the stage while showing his naked torso. 

Seeing him on stage is such a turn-on. He looks so good with sweat running down the valley of his well-toned pecs. His abdomen shimmered as stage lights were focused on him. You noticed how his upper body was thicker and more pronounced in contrast to his small waist. His arms looked so delectable. How hot. Yuta's handsome face adds to the rockstar effect as he playfully sticks his tongue out or winks at the camera as if he knew you were watching. 

Fuck, you want him so bad. 

No, you fucking need him right now. 

The desperation for release led you to those explicit videos on your phone, your personal collection of your sexy time with your horny rockstar boyfriend. But still, nothing. It didn't even ease the feeling you have right now. You needed him physically. Desperately. 

You scrolled on Tiktok instead, hoping to get some feedback on your boyfriend's performance. But as you scroll up, a certain video has caught your attention. A caption can be seen with an image of a pretty girl wearing leather lingerie with some rope tied around her fists, how to dom your dom. 

You are straight. You were so sure about that. But the way the girl presented herself was super erotic. The dominatrix vibe is such a turn-on. Is this a sign that you are such a submissive? 

A smirk escaped your lips. Maybe you'll try something new today. Maybe you can give Yuta a taste of his own medicine. 

A decision has been made.

Today, you'll dom your dom. 

Your boyfriend said that he'd be done after three songs but you didn't wait for him and just went your way. You even stopped by the local sex shop you and him frequented, giddy that it was still open. The salesperson, who knew you and Yuta, was even astounded at your purchase. He even wished you good luck and hoped that you'll recover. 

A chuckle escaped your lips. It's not you who needed those words. 

You took a quick shower when you reached home, thankful that you raced Yuta on arriving. You changed to the black leather lingerie that you brought from the store, complaining that it was too tight and uncomfortable while setting the handcuffs on the headboard of the bed. Instead of a rope, you wrapped his leather belt around your fist. 

Leather is just so uncomfortable, you wanted to give up already. 

The apartment doors opened followed by footsteps then your boyfriend's voice asking if you're home. You hurriedly closed the lights to enable the mood lighting Yuta had installed just for these spicy moments. You turned on the stereo to your sex playlist then winced in pain when your toe bumped against the foot of the bed. Before the door opened, you managed to lay in bed in a provocative position that emphasized your breasts. 

Yuta’s eyes were gliding on your whole outfit before raising an eyebrow at you, “What is this?” A smirk played against his lips as he put down the duffel bag and quickly removed his tank top while moving to where you are. “I thought you were mad.” 

That piqued your interest, mad about what? He was already on the foot of the bed, hand reaching out to you when you snapped on your senses. You were supposed to be in charge tonight, not the other way around. Hastily, you kneeled on the bed to stop him from touching you. A playful smile can be seen on his lips when your hands are placed on his shoulder. “Yeah, I am mad.” You claimed with a smirk, fingers trailing south of his naked torso. “And you deserve to be punished.” 

He raised an eyebrow before you changed your position by lightly pushing him to bed and you were kneeling on top of him. “Hands up,” You blew a heavy sigh, he’s still so far from the handcuffs. “Could you please move a little bit upward?” A small smile can be seen on his lips before obeying you. 

Your knees were on both his sides as you clicked the handcuffs you bought on both his wrists. A smile appeared on your lips, he looks so good in this position. “Is this my punishment, baby?” His eyes were dark as he stared at you. Now that he mentioned it, you don’t know what to do to him next. The only idea you had in mind was to wear that leather outfit and bind him to bed with handcuffs. How would you exactly dom him? What should you do right now? 

Sensing your hesitation, Yuta chuckled. “Ride my face.” Your eyes widened at the suggestion. He would always eat you out but you never did it with you on top. Isn’t it dangerous? What if you literally sit on his face? What if you accidentally kill him? He might have sensed your hesitation that he muttered in his frustrated tone, “Hurry up, love.” 

You bit your bottom lip at that. You were horny, evident was this set-up that you made. And to be honest, you wanted to do it. Sit on Yuta’s face. He looked so delectable lying there with his hands tied to the bed. But this is deep waters that you’re scared to approach. 

Why did you plan to do this in the first place? 

This isn’t you. You would rather be whimpering under Yuta. But you’re already here and he’s accepting your actions. It’s too late to back out now.

“Y/N, ride my face.” He claimed once again, making you squint your eyes at him. Why is he still commanding you as if he wasn’t the one tied on the bed right now? Why does he still seem so dominant when you were the one who should be dominating him? 

You pursed your lips, raising an eyebrow at him. You could tease him a bit. He’s tied in bed, he surely can’t do anything too much. “Beg for it.”  

A smirk appeared on Yuta’s lips as you started mounting the bed and then sitting on his thigh. “Stop teasing me.”

“I said beg, Yuta.”

“Ride my face or else.” 

He’s tied in bed. He cannot do anything. How adorable. “Or else what?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. 

In one swift move, you were lying on your back on your king-sized bed while Yuta hovered above you. His hand held your waist in place that made you wide-eyed. “You shouldn’t have bought low-class handcuffs, love.” You raised your head to see the chains of the handcuffs broken on the headboard of the bed. “And you shouldn’t have pulled this stunt, Y/N.” His eyes were predatory, scary. “Now, be a good girl and scream only for me. Understood?” 

Yuta unhooked your leather underwear, relief washed over you that the uncomfortable feeling was now gone. But you gripped on the sheets as he replaced the material with the warmth of his mouth. He was devouring you as if you were the first meal he had for days. He ravaged your pussy, licking your clit and then sucking on it before entering your folds. Your back arched in intense pleasure but he kept on holding you, as if not wanting you to squirm. “Yuta, I’m close.” You jerked your hip up. 

You could feel him smirking and then it was gone. Your eyes widened in surprise as if you were showered with cold water. “What the hell?” You watched him remove the broken handcuffs from his wrists while kneeling on the bed, eyes on you. That image alone could send you to your orgasm. But Yuta just had to be extra sexy by biting his bottom lip and pushing his hair away from his face. Your fingers rubbed your clit, crossing your legs together, as you moaned for his name while releasing liquid on the bed sheets. 

A chuckle can be heard then a sound of metal hitting the floor. “You just have to be a horny slut and orgasm without my go signal, don’t you?” You felt the bed dipped with his weight before his thumb pushed your clit. “Can’t wait for me to fuck you properly.” 

“Yuta, I need you. Please.” 

The side of his lips curved up. “On your back, love.” You gave him a confused look before he nodded, “That was a command.” You rolled on your side, stomach lying on the bed but Yuta was already placing a pillow by your abdomen. He unhooked your leather brassiere that made you breathe heavily. A chuckle can be heard followed by his wet lips trailing along your spine. “You are so hot like this,” He whispered. “Begging. Whimpering under me.”  

Yuta slithered his arm around your hip, pulling you closer before entering you from behind. The way he did it is so flawless that you didn’t even have time to moan. You ended up grasping the sheets while screaming on the pillow. You’ve done this before and you knew that this was one of Yuta’s favorite positions but the way he’s thrusting into you from a whole new angle made you a whimpering mess under him. 

Your boyfriend must be working out secretly. You’re almost always together but you have never seen him hit the gym or anything. The heaviest you knew he would carry was you or his electric guitar. So how did he manhandle you into this new position? You felt your body pulled up from the mattress, him sitting on the bed. A moan kept on leaving your lips while bouncing on Yuta’s cock. His hands grabbed both your breasts, kissing your shoulders as he jerked his hips up to meet your thrusts halfway. His heavy breathing can be heard against your ear, turning you on. 

If possible, he pulled you closer by the waist as he released with you. Whispers of your name as if he was chanting prayers tickled your neck. “God, Y/N,” he called then kissed your lips. “As expected, all I need is you. No one else.” You giggled. How crazy are those words? When you were well aware that he’s Yuta Nakamoto and millions of other girls would fight a war for him. “I’ll prepare the tub so we can clean up, hmm?” 

It was still amazing how he could carry your body as if some doll and laid you to bed. Watching him enter the bathroom, in his all-naked glory, you marveled at how thick his arms had been. Surely, he would be working out. He sat on the edge of the bed when he returned to the room and you reached out for his arms, “You’re getting obsessed with my arms.” 

“When did you start working out?” 

“I’m not.” You raised an eyebrow at that. “Fucking you is my workout.” You rolled your eyes at that. Is he being sarcastic right now? “The things I want to do when you roll your eyes like that.” You repeated the same action, sighing while rolling your eyes, to taunt him. Yuta giggled before hovering his body above you, raising both your arms and holding them in place to kiss you roughly. “The things I badly want to do to you while you wear that leather lingerie.” 

You lightly glanced at the dark leather scattered on the foot of the bed. “It’s uncomfortable.”      

“If you want to wear something like that so bad, I can just buy you one.”  

“But you don’t like it.” It was Yuta’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “I tried to dom you because those girls look so hot online but you’re not very cooperative.” 

A hearty laugh escaped his lips and you whined while hitting his chest. “Seeing you sprawled on the bed like that when I came home was hot and all, I even wanted to do your fantasy but you hesitated. You look so scared I thought you’d cry.” He even noticed that? “You’ll need a lot of practice though.” 

The side of your lips curled up at that suggestion. “Then, will you let me practice on you?” 

“Damn right. Do you have another person in mind?” You grinned, shaking your head. “I’ll even give you one-on-one lessons, love.” He kissed the valley between your breasts. “And if you were a good student,” He kissed your neck, trailing north to your ear before he whispered. “I’ll let you fuck me with a strap-on.” Your eyes sparkled at the idea. “You’re so transparent.” 

A laugh escaped your lips, muttering an apology. How could your boyfriend stir something hidden inside you? Maybe you’re not as submissive as you thought. 

“Ride me in the tub?”  

You nodded, reaching both arms for him. “Carry me.” 

Yuta squinted his eyes at you, shaking his head while laughing. “Such a baby.” He carried you bridal style as you grazed your forefinger on the protruding muscles of his arms. “If I knew you would get this obsessed with my arms, I would have hit the gym earlier.” 

Your eyes widened at that, lightly hitting him in betrayal. “You are working out!” 

[petew21-blog]

Healthcare insurance

Doctor Green approached his oncology patient in the ICU. The old man, Benedict Brown, suffering from lung cancer, was in the hospital for his late diagnosis of his condition, which wasn't improving.

Dr. Green:"Mr. Brown, I don't have very good news. The tumour is a small cell lung carcinoma. It is the direct result of your smoking. Unfortunately it is very aggressive and in your case has been diagnosed very late. We can offer you a support group along with some pain medication..."

Mr. Brown:"Are you JOKING ME?!? When I came months ago, you said it was just... eh ehh ehhhh cough cough... Just cough. And now you're telling me I'm gonna die?"

Dr. Green:"I'm very sorry sir. We did everything we could, but the diagnosis is final in this case and overall the condition can be hard to diagnose in early stages"

Mr. Brown:"You're just trying to get out of this so you won't feel guilty. For not treating me as you should. You turned me away and you know it damn well"

Dr. Green:"Sir, if there was something I could do, I would. But I am out of my options"

Mr. Brown smiled. "Oh there is one option. Come closer I can tell you. But send everyone away."

Dr. Green hesitated. But did as he said. Dr. Green sat down on a chair next to Mr. Green.

Dr. Green:"Ok. So tell me."

Mr. Brown grabbed Dr. Green's hand and started the incantation. Dr. Green could feel how the man's cold hands started getting warmer and warmer. And suddenly, he felt the warm presence all over his body.

Mr. Brown opened his eyes. He was sitting now and looking at the old man on the bed. He looked down and saw a white coat with a stethoscope around his neck. He inhaled a big ammount of air. "What a relief"

As soon as he said that, his old body started coding. He pushed the button and started doing a CPR. The doctors did what they could, but couldn't save the old man. Or atleast his body

But Mr. Brown didn't really care. Because he was now a young healthy doctor. And this time. He was gonna live his best life

Dr. Green:"What's happening?"

Mr. Brown:"Ahh, you're here too? You were supposed to die in my body. Oh well, I guess I can handle one black passenger."

Dr. Green:"How did you do this? Mr. Brown, you have to get out of my body!!!"

Mr. Brown:"You know what? I don't have to get out. This is my body now. And I'm gonna enjoy it"

Mr. Brown:"Fuck yeah, look at me in these sunglasses and a vest. Now your body has atleast some style, doctor. You should thank me. You were in desperate need of a makeover."

Dr. Green:"My wife will know it's not me. She will figure it out"

Mr. Brown:"Right. She won't last with me for too long. I can tell you that"

Mr. Brown:"The same goes for your job. I won't stay in healthcare with a body like this. That would be a waste of time. Now, I really wanna smoke so bad."

He got out of the car and lit a cigarette. He coughed

Dr. Green:"My body isn't used to it. You can't smoke"

Mr. Brown:"Oh don't worry about it. I'll get used to it pretty soon. Also, I don't need to smoke right now. Just need it to get some photos for Grindr"

Dr. Green:"Grindr? Isn't that for gay people?"

Mr. Brown:"Great job, Dr. Green. Exactly"

Mr. Brown:"Man, look at me. I look good. The jeans, the leather. The smoke. I look so fucking good. Thanks for the body doc. Since you killed mine. Oh yeah. Look at that. That's the one for Grindr"

Dr. Green couldn't believe what was happening. His own body was smoking and doing things he would never do. He was controlled by someone else, possibly forever. What was he gonna do? He can't stay like this forever. But what if he has to?

In the nearby alley the two men were kissing passionately. The younger one pushed the other against the wall, pressing his hard dick against his.

The man:"Aren't you a bit young for me?"

Mr. Brown laughed:"Well. What can I say? I'm an old soul"

Could you make a story in which a man who suffers from lung cancer takes revenge on his young doctor for not being able to cure him, possessing him and turning him into a smoker and gay? You could do the perspective of the old man in his new body and the young doctor being possessed and forced to see his changed appearance. I really like this guy by the way. https://www.tumblr.com/male-meat-suit/724018661918195712/maybe-a-story-with-this-one?source=share

[purplecoffee13]

I’ve had this scenario in my head for ages now and yesterday after watching Harry’s performance with Stevie Nicks I couldn’t stop thinking abt it. I was wondering if you could make a one shot or smth abt y/n getting ready to see Harry perform (solo or w some1) and all of her emotions growing considering she was/still is a fan but not like before when she was a teen ykwim? She’s so in awe and loves him so much!! Once the show or wtv it’s over they get back home/ or hotel (you choose) order room service (or delivery) eat and then cuddle till the fall asleep. Idk it’s just so cute and It’s one of my fav scenarios to make me fall asleep 🤍

STAHP this is so cute yes ofc🥹💞 it’s on the short side, but I hope it lives up to your imagination at least a little bit, enjoy! xxx

General Masterlist

Blurb Masterlist

Proud was understatement for the way you felt about Harry performing with his friend Stevie tonight.

His friend, Stevie fucking Nicks.

The fact that he could call her a friend was insane. You knew how much he had looked up to her all his life, and for her to ask him to join her on stage once again was an honor which he couldn’t believe was bestowed upon him.

There was a giddiness that traveled through your entire body as you got ready for Harry’s performance. He had been gone since midday, as his presence was required for sound check. The smile on your face couldn’t have been beaten off with a bat; you were too happy for him.

He had been so nervous this morning, checking whether his keys were in his pocket three times before finally taking off. Last night in bed, after taking up your offer for a massage, he confessed he was afraid he’d mess it up. You assured him that he wouldn’t, but he merely sighed.

“This is different.” He had said. “She asked me, to help her.”

You had temporarily stopped massaging him then, almost tearing up at the worry in his voice. It made sense. She was asking him for a favor, and she’d never really done that before. It wasn’t just a performance, it was a tribute. It was about more than just Stevie, so he wanted to get it right.

And my god, did he get it right.

Your vision was partly blurry during the entirety of his time on stage, and you were glad that you had simultaneously—albeit badly—recorded the performance. Harry was shining of course; he always did when on stage.

It wasn’t the first time you had seen Harry perform. You had been to many shows since you started going out with him, and before that.

A show of his was actually how you two met.

It was years ago, and you were still working as a receptionist at one of New York’s finest hotels, when one night you had to check in someone under quite a peculiar name.

Ricky BlueLetter.

You had chuckled to yourself upon seeing the reservation, wondering who could possibly be so lucky as to have been named after Fleetwood Mac songs. No one, it turned out to be. It was Harry Styles’ alias.

It was hard to contain your heartbeat when Harry stood at your desk, greeting you and handing you his I.D. while he waited for the check-in to be completed. You were trembling a bit, and when he asked you if you were okay, you quickly made up a lie about being cold. To be fair, the air conditioning was always blowing quite harshly.

The following night, you were attending his concert. Your plan was to stay in the back of the pit, but upon realizing the stage went around the pit, you knew that you were going to be close to him anyway. You were far too nervous that he’d see you; it would’ve been too embarrassing considering you pretended not to know him the night before.

Safe to say, Harry did see you. He spotted you as he hopped around the stage, holding your gaze for a couple of seconds before laughing. You swore you could have melted through the floor, especially since you probably had to be confronted with this situation at work. You did have to work the rest of the weekend—it was the only way you would’ve gotten the night off—and Harry was performing both Saturday and Sunday. You wanted to slap yourself in the face for being so nonchalant the night before.

The next morning, you had a shift from 7am to 2pm. Upon going to soundcheck, Harry saw you, and approached you. He was cocky when he asked what you thought of his show, and you rolled your eyes before you could even stop yourself. Harry liked your playfulness, and before his stay officially came to an end, he asked you for your number.

Of course you said yes, the little girl inside of you was screaming and throwing a party. You couldn’t believe that the guy who you used to read about in a magazine as a kid was asking you out in real life. However, you never thought it would’ve lead to a stable, three year long relationship.

That first show, despite how embarrassing you thought it was back then, was the most special and defining event you’d ever been to.

And yet, it felt different this time.

Maybe it had to do with the audience not being there solely for Harry, and him performing songs he had loved so deeply ever since he was a kid, instead ones he wrote. There was a different type of love attached to those songs, and you felt the radiation of it burst through the speakers.

It was simple, yet intricate. The gruff edges of his voice blended perfectly with the soft tone in which he sang, making for an almost impossible cohesiveness that was as complex as the feeling of grief itself. Without necessarily intending to, he had mirrored the harsh reality of loss interwoven with precious memories. It was pure, in a sad way. In a way that had you go through two packs of tissues in the short time that he had accompanied his friend on stage.

It was beautiful— he was beautiful, and perfect.

Your eyes were red, and your make-up was ruined by the time Harry left the stage. The fact that the first thing he did was walk towards you and pull you into an embrace could’ve made you run through seven more packs of tissues. How lucky were you to have a man who could not only write and tell you his feelings, but express them with the sole sound of his voice? You felt blessed.

Afterwards, Harry introduced you to Stevie—which was the second most scary thing you had ever done, because meeting his sister was the first—and you talked for an hour or two. The active reminder in your head that these were normal people with normal feelings who just happened to have a shit ton of money and talent was the only thing that kept you slightly calm, as did the touch of Harry’s hand on you at all times.

Later that night, as you lie in bed with Harry, eating some grapes from the dessert plate you ordered, you are still gushing about every aspect of the night.

“She called me pretty.”

“Well, you are pretty.” Harry says, pulling you further into him. The soft noise of the TV playing some random movie makes the night feel a lot more normal than it actually was.

“And smart!” You giggle, biting your lip at the feeling of Harry’s lips pressing a kiss to your temple.

“You’re very smart, too.” He responds softly. You turn around to face him, and climb onto his lap. Observing his beautiful face, you run a hand through his hair. His eyes shut for a moment at the soothing feeling, before they softly flutter open again.

“I am so proud of you, Harry.” You whisper. The smile on your face feels light and easy, just as easy as it is to love him.

“Thank you baby.” He breathes, the corner of his mouth slowly rising as he looks down. You cup his face, moving his face until it’s directed toward you again, and inch closer to your boyfriend.

“I don’t think you understand. I am so fucking proud of you, Harry. The way you sang on that stage, it— you are the first person who has ever made sorrow look so stunning to me.” You elaborate, needing him to know the significance of what he did today. Not only did he not mess up at all, he went above and beyond the definition of a great performance. “She saw it too, she felt it.”

A breathy laugh escapes Harry’s throat, and he slowly shakes his head, his hands sneaking around your waist. His head dips down as he pulls you closer, and he buries himself into your neck. It stays awfully quiet, but the deep breath that follows from his side tells you enough. That exhale made way for the anxiety and nervousness to leave his body, so that he could be proud of the perfect memory that replaced those feelings. You both stay like that for a few minutes, before you interrupt the self-made silence, and tap him softly on the back of his head.

“Harry…”

He hums from inside your neck, tightening his grip around you to communicate that, in case you were gonna ask him to let go, he doesn’t want to.

“Could I interest you in a grape?” You offer. It had occurred to you that so far, you had been the only one to eat from the plate, and you want to make sure that Harry eats something before he goes to bed. You don’t know how much he ate since he left home early today, because he was too nervous this morning.

Harry pulls his head away from your neck, a lazy smirk on his face as his eyes meet yours. He chuckles at the way you grab the plate and hold it up in front of him with a sweet smile.

“You’re a dork.” He says. You frown at the comment.

“That’s not an answer.” You pout, pushing the plate further towards him. He laughs, grabbing the plate from your hands and putting it next to the two of you where it was before. He plucks two grapes and throws them into his mouth, raising his brows at you as he chews and swallows them.

“Happy?”

You grin. “The happiest.”

[alonetimelover]

maybe reader showering harry with kisses after one of his shows and harry just talking it all in or something like that.

pairing: boyfriend!Harry Styles x reader

word count: ~700

warnings: they kiss, quite a lot; fluff !!

a/n: thank you @harrystylesnumber1 for coming up with the idea!

boyfriendrry masterlist taglist

——————————————————————————————

Adrenaline was buzzing through Harry’s veins as he was running down the stairs, straight from the stage of his first night back on tour. Love on Tour. Los Angeles. After years Harry was back in his element. And the love of his life was waiting right there, behind a black curtain with one of the biggest smiles on her face. 

"Did you hear them?" Harry asked, nearing YN, placing huge steps to be close to her as quickly as possible. 

"I did! It was so loud!" YN screamed excitedly, opening her arms for Harry to fall into them. 

"I’m so pumped! I fucking missed it,” he mumbled the last sentence in YN’s shoulders, melting into her arms. 

From the side they look like two pieces finally put together. Their bodies completed each other, every curve falling into every indent, the overall contour of them making one, complete and full line. People were used to how Harry and YN could fall into their own World and learn not to try to get them out of it. Even if they did, none of them would succeed. The couple, when in each other's presence, forgot about the circling world around them. No noise, no visuals could break them apart. Well, almost.

“Let me look at you.”

Harry lifted from her shoulder, giving her a tired but loving smile. 

“I’m so proud of you.” YN caressed Harry’s face, brushing those curls back to see his eyes. The wrinkles by them just reflected how happy he actually was. 

“Couldn’t have done it without you, lovie.” 

With enamoured look in her eyes, YN closed the millimetres gap between their lips and welcomed Harry in one of the first post-concert blissful kisses. The type of kisses that Harry added to his favourites. Ones that lingered and stayed with him. Ones that just started but felt like they had been shared between them for centuries. The feeling of her soft (or sometimes chapped) lips against his deprived ones, brought him feelings of home, of something so familiar that could be just his. 

“I love you,” she murmured, brushing her lips against his. 

“Mhmm,” he almost giggled, pecking her multiple times. “I love you.”

Just like if the World stopped, YN and Harry fell into their embrace. From time to time, either of them would pick up their head and plant some small, some long and some lustful kisses on the other person’s body. Only when Harry neared that one spot YN’s breath hitched. 

“Harry, not here.”

“There’s no one around,” he grinned to her neck, getting closer and closer to his destined spot. 

There in fact were dozens of people around them. Harry’s band, management, friends and family were walking around the backstage space, trying to find the one and only - Harry. From his mother, through his manager to one of his cousins, they all tried to look for him and drink a celebratory drink. 

“Harry, baby,” she pleaded, trying to take his mind off making her crumble at his feet in such a public place. 

Harry eventually unlinked from her neck after having it lightly grazed with his teeth. Looking into her eyes, he sent her a smirk that he knew she couldn’t resist. One that he used to just make her agree to something that she would have but needed some encouragement. 

Shaking her head with a grin, she once again kissed him, taking his breath away. They moved their lips in perfect rhythm. And when Harry placed one of his hands on YN’s lower back, she gasped from the closeness of their bodies, giving Harry a perfect opportunity to deepen the kiss. With her hands in his hair, she pressed harder and harder into him, craving that closeness. 

“There you two are! Always hiding together!” 

Upon hearing Harry’s mum's voice they fell apart, breaths heavy and swollen lips, trying to act like nothing had happened. Anne just smirked at them, shaking her head. 

“I saw nothing. I know nothing. Just - just come with me. Everyone is waiting for you two.” 

Felling their faces burning, they moved hand in hand behind the older woman, trying to suppress their smiles. 

“Stop smiling,” YN whispered to Harry, pinching his side. 

“Nope.” 

And just like that he pecked her lips one more time for good measure and with a love-struck look picked up the pace, swinging their arms up and down. 

[wonjns]

backstage. ࿏

♡° pairing. . .  choi san x male reader

♡° genre. . . smut

♡° summary. . .  just good ole fashion, desperate, needy post-concert sex with san because he was just too much while performing for you to keep it in your pants. fully intentional on his end.

♡° includes. . . bottom!reader, idol!san, public sex, grinding, finger sucking, slight orgasm prolonging, unprotected sex (dont irl!!)

♡° wc. . . 2.6k

°A/N. . . this really came out of no where,, i just saw so many more concert clips coming out and i just needed to so badly because he is frustratingly sexy. hope you enjoyyy

san was hot.

so fucking hot.

and you absolutely hated him for it.

from the way his gorgeous bronze skin radiated under the stage lights and his razor sharp jaw flexed as he danced, his perfectly styled hair never seen out of place, to his devilishly sexy grin and the newfound bulging biceps that were proudly on display in the slim fit tank top he was dedicated to wearing every show.

ateez was only 15 minutes into their setlist and you were already fighting every urge to palm your throbbing dick under your jeans in front of the busy staff.

you received a number of privileges as the boyfriend, as did all of ateez's partners, such as your backstage access and first hand look at how the idol life was ran behind the scenes.

as a collective, ateez tried to not let too many of their current significant others backstage at one time in order to not disrupt the staff, who were very obviously annoyed by your presence. but you'd be lying if you said that kept a handful of you from swarming together towards the end of each show, horny and ready to jump your mens' bones as soon as they finished their final bow.

but alas, it was just you today - san's ridiculously aroused boyfriend with no company to distract him from holding back moans every time san thrusted his hips towards the crowd.

you probably wouldn't have been so bothered already if san hadn't approached you right before taking the stage, dressed in his black bomb-bag styled crop top, revealing just a teasing amount of his chiseled abs.

as expected, he refused to go on stage without his favorite tradition of a pre-show make out. however this time, it was something about the way he was wantonly moaning into your mouth that had a heat igniting your core faster than usual. the vibrations being sent through your body and into the cool steel beams you were pressed against had your pants tightening in no time. just when he had finally rocked his hips into yours, giving your hardened member pleasurable friction, it all to ended too soon as mingi interrupted to rush his bandmate on stage.

as he was being dragged away, san simply shrugged in your direction, smirking at your desperate expression. he flashed you a wink, along with his familiar i'll make it up to you look.

you were definitely gonna hold him to it.

and now here you were, pupils dilating with lust as you watched the monitor zoom in on san licking his teeth agonizingly slow while staring into the camera. he offered another one of his shit eating grins, and you almost came in your own pants untouched, disguising a breathy whimper with a cough.

you considered sneaking off to the restroom to rub one out so you could at least focus on the concert, but you felt paralyzed, unable to move or take your eyes off of the whorishly sexy choi san.

you needed him in a way that felt more torturous than ever before, but there was nothing you could do besides wait it out.

it was a grueling couple of hours - your cheeks so hot throughout the duration of the show that you actually thought you might melt. you could only handle one more of san's seductive eye rolls or the unbuttoning of his shirt before you finally gave in and went off to satisfy yourself.

but as all storms pass, you saw light at the end of the tunnel as you noticed the concert was finally ending. the boys offered the roaring crowd a bow and began to wave as they fled the stage.

you watched stagnantly as the guys ducked away into their dressing room, before bursting in there yourself.

immediately you spotted san, whose eyes were covered by his black cap as his head was thrown back - gulping down a bottle of water. his protruding adams apple teased you as it bobbed, covered in a reflective sheen of sweat that had you squirming in place. you cleared your throat at the door way, all eight of their heads turning towards you.

as soon as san saw you, he smiled, a mischievous glint sparkling in his eyes. he could instantly read your mood - knowing you all too well to miss how needy of a state you were in.

"hey baby," he spoke casually, nearly cut off as you rushed up to him and smashed your lips into his.

you sighed as you felt his plush lips envelope yours in a warm embrace, the need you felt causing him to taste even better than you remember. when he pulled back to disconnect your lips, your hands stopped him in place so you could continue laying a fury of kisses to his lips and honestly anything else your mouth could reach. you felt him smirking at the desperate act, along with the dramatic groans of his members behind him.

you could hear wooyoung grumbling something about how you two needed to get a room as san shuffled you back towards the door, holding you back by the shoulders to pause your insatiable actions. you couldn't even bring yourself to be embarrassed in front of the other members like you usually were. the only thoughts running through your head were the feeling of san finally touching your body, and his somehow still prominent cologne taking over your senses.

"relax babe," he cooed as he shut the dressing room door behind him when you both finally exited. "someone missed me, huh."

"oh my god, san. i need you, please." you shamelessly begged, knees feeling weak as his eyes bore down into yours. "somewhere, anywhere, just now. please."

he felt your hands shakily claw against his exposed, muscular collarbones, and you felt the vibration as he groaned. to no one's surprised, he was growing aroused at how pliant you were becoming for him.

before you knew it your back was pressed firmly to a different door, inside of a room you were too dizzy to even analyze as san's lips worked passionately against yours. his large hand laid flat next to your head against the door while you kissed him back with even more fervor, moaning when you let go of his neck to feel along the flexed muscles of his arm.

"so fucking needy for me, hm?" san mumbled against your lips as his free hand traveled up your shirt.

the coolness of his hand sent goosebumps along your body as he gripped your torso - both from the chill and from the excitement of his thumb grazing one of your nipples.

before you could respond, san dipped down to sink his teeth into the sensitive spot of your neck, causing you to moan loudly and nearly fall to your knees.

san immediately returned to your mouth, slipping his tongue inside to muffle your sounds while continuing to devour you whole.

"shhh, don't want everyone to know what i'm doing to you in here, right?" he warned. you could only whine in response, and he chuckled, the low sound causing your cock to harden beyond belief.

san continued to feed you sloppy, opened-mouth kisses, his tongue laving over yours only making you feel weaker. your ravaging hands hastily pushed the black cap off of his head to rake your fingers through his damp raven locks. he pushed his toned body fully against yours, and was most likely the only thing that kept you from dropping to the floor.

san seemed to pick up on the intensity of your erection as ground your hips forward, grazing his own bulge. he hissed at the pleasure, looking down before cocking an eyebrow up at you.

you usually loved san's smile, but you could only squirm whenever you saw it in this context, knowing damn well how much advantage he had over you.

"oh someone's really missed me."

he surged forward to place another searing kiss to your lips before gripping both of your cheeks between with his thumb and index finger, forcing your head to the side as he licked a slow stripe up your jaw while grinding his hardened cock over yours once more.

again, you almost spilled in your own jeans.

"san, san-" you could only repeat his name in a feeble tone.

your boyfriend knew you were begging for more without even needing to say much else, and it was boosting his ego through the roof. he must've also felt you shaking, your poor hands trembling as they needily roamed the patches of his sculpted body that his tank top allowed to be exposed.

your hands dipped underneath his shirt, not minding the sweat one bit as you felt the rippling of his muscles as you attached your mouth to san's neck, sucking salaciously on the thickness of his column as if he were the best thing you'd ever tasted - because he was.

the deep groan that he released in your ear only egged you on, taking the liberty to lick up his own neck before attacking his jaw, nipping to your heart's desires. you wondered how his skin could still be so supple after such a long concert, but he was constantly blowing your mind in all sorts of ways. this fucker really was perfect.

"prince, if you don't stop, i'm gonna have to fuck you right on that couch."

your dick twitched in your pants at his comment, hoping it was a promise rather than a threat. you had been so wrapped up in the phenomenon that was choi san that you hadn't even noticed there was a couch in the lowly dimmed room.

you lifted a leg to wrap around his waist, pressing your bulges together tighter, making you both dizzy. then, taking his earlobe inbetween your teeth, you suckled on it gently before releasing it with a pop.

"god, i don't think i want anything more than that."

the innocence, yet desperation in your feeble tone caused san to snap. within seconds his hands firmly grasped both of your thighs, effortlessly lifting you up in his hold while attacking your mouth with his with much more intensity as he walked you over to the old leather couch and plopped you down on it.

san rose up to quickly strip himself of his tank top, hardly giving you time to ogle as his firm abs and chest before you teeth were clashing once more. you struggled to keep up with the overwhelming pace of his lips as he popped open your button-up shirt, yanking it off of your body.

without missing a beat, the black haired idol shimmied down your body, your loud pants turning to whimpers as he tugged one of your nipples between his teeth. he lathered your exposed nub with the warm wetness of his mouth, his cheeks dimpling at the action. he then tapped his fingers against your lips, you latching on to them without hesitation. obediently sucking his digits and swirling your pink muscle around them, you groaned at the slightly salty satisfaction.

san withdrew his fingers from your mouth once they were nice and coated, and began sucking on your other neglected nipple as his wet fingers went on to tweak the previous.

you were writhing underneath him, just like he liked it, not letting up on you until he found it necessary. when you finally felt him come to a stop, you almost whined out of discontent until you heard the sound of his belt buckle clicking.

shooting your eyes open, you observed as san swiftly removed his pants, aiding you in removing yours as well.

"oh my, look at all of this." san hummed once your jeans were discarded, eyes darkening upon seeing the wet patch of precum on your boxers. "did i do that, babe?"

"please san, just fuck me." was all you could manage, hands reaching out to grab him.

he lowered himself into your embrace happily, loving how your hands smoothed down his naked body while he rid you both of your underwear.

"you've been so patient, love. i'm so proud of you. turn around for me." your boyfriend spoke in a firm but sweet tone, hands helping you adjust yourself with your ass in the air.

thankfully, these little excursions of yours were nothing new, so you were practically already prepped for him. still, san didn't fail to knead both of your smooth ass cheeks in his hands, holding them steadily as he leaned down to lick a fat strip over your entrance for good measure.

you called out in pleasure, gripping the sofa arm for stability.

"mmm, taste extra good when needy for me," san groaned. "ready for me, baby?"

"yes, always ready."

when san bottomed out in you in one long, smooth stroke, you felt your soul practically project from your body.

it was like this everytime, without fail. the entirety of san's girth gliding inside of you, slowly working you open with languid, repetitive strokes was all you needed to tame the hormonal beast that raged inside you.

san's dancers hips never faltered once as he would rhythmically pull out and push into you, hitting that perfect spot in rapid succession. both of his hands held your hips as his strong thighs kept his solid rocking motions sailing.

throwing his head back, san lost his own motive of keeping quiet when he felt how tightly your hole sucked him in. it was hard for him to not lose his sanity with you, when your body consistently responded to him so beautifully.

he finally came back when he heard a meek "babe, i-i'm so close" from your tender lips. quickly, he pulled out of you. not out of punishment, but it didn't cease the frustrated whimpers from you any less. san readjusted hismelf to sit upright against the couch cushion, deliciously spreading his legs for just enough room for you to fit on his lap.

he helped you hover over him, a floodgate of arousal filling his eyes as he watched you bite your bottom lip while sinking back down on to him. you grabbed san's shoulders as you started to tremble once more, rocking back and forth on his lap before you begun to bounce, feeling the stretch at a new angle.

san returned to placing searing kisses on the center of your throat, whispering sweet nothings into your skin. you knew he was reaching his high as well when you felt his hips start stuttering.

"baby, come with me." he whispered, releasing a breathy moan as he thrusted his hips upwards to meet yours.

that was all you needed to hear before rolling your hips forward one more time, feeling the rigid pleasure of his abs as you released your milky liquids all over his chest. you felt him paint the inside of your walls shortly after, a synchronous moan emitting from the both of you.

plopping forward into his embrace, you shakily placed kisses along his shoulder and neck, running your hands through his hair once more as san wrapped his strong arms around you. too satisfied to worry about the stickiness between you too.

"shit, baby. i love you. you were so good, thanks for waiting." he panted, hints of his usual cheerful tone returning to his voice.

"anytime, babe. but god, never make me wait that long again." you replied, exchanging giggles between the two of you.

you suddenly heard a choir of foot steps quickly approaching the nearby door, both of you slightly tensing. neither of you had it in you to move, however, fully fucked and blissed out while enjoying each others embrace.

it was fine, the door was locked.

hopefully.

©𝐰𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐧𝐬 — all rights reserved

[laurawaldorf]

Heyyy☺️

Just saw that u are gonna start writing for Eminem so i do have a request 🥹

where the reader is yonger then him like prob in 2005 shes 18 or so and shes a famous singer songwriter (her style being like billie eilish and lana dal ray) and like theres two different versions one where he writes a diss and during an award show she disses him back and like they later resolve their issues or so and something like them ending up recording in the same building and then them hooking up or another version being eminem loves her songs and they record in the same building so he asks to collab and them ending up together and they go through a fight and like she gets a call from his daughters ( coz they get along ) that he’s overdosed and her helping him through that phase and u can write more about how their relationship evolves like her being a huge support to himand hus daughters and them getting married ( or u could add him first not wanting to get married coz of kim but coming to his senses) then him mentioning her in his someone save me song about how much shes been there for him

Just so u know this is a random pitch u can either write somewhat the whole thing or just something like this idea 🥹

U can add anything or change a bit, thanks ☺️

꯭•:◦ 𝗜𝗙𝗛𝗬.

⠀⠀────────────────────

| 𝗣𝗔𝗜𝗥𝗜𝗡𝗚: Marshall Mathers III (Eminem) x Fem!Reader.

| 𝗚𝗘𝗡𝗥𝗘: Enemies to Lovers and slightly smut.

| 𝗪𝗔𝗥𝗡𝗜𝗡𝗚𝗦: Slighty smut, flirting, making out.

| 𝗥𝗘𝗤𝗨𝗘𝗦𝗧𝗘𝗗: yes.

| 𝗦𝗢𝗡𝗚 𝗜𝗡𝗦𝗣𝗜𝗥𝗔𝗧𝗜𝗢𝗡: My Strange Addiction — Billie Eilish.

( heey, i just wanna thanks for being my first request! i hope you like it. 🤍 )

⠀⠀────────────────────

— Fuck. — It's the first word out of your mouth when you sees your musical rival sitting in the second row next to you at the 2005 VMAs Award.

It was your first MTV event after the release of your first album which was a global success, which gained you an absurd popularity in the pop industry, people knew you wherever you went, celebrities begged for a collab with your participation due to your soft voice and mesmerizing…However, your talent didn't just attract good things, it also attracted negative comments that were something common in an artist's life and a diss coming from the most controversial and well-known rapper of the 2000s, Marshall Mathers, or better known by his alter- ego, Slim Shady.

You discreetly judged Marshall by his look, seeing him smile with that cunning smile while talking to his mentor, Dr Dre. For a moment, your eyes met in quick eye contact, which made you shrug your shoulders and quickly look away as you took hurried steps towards your row, which was one in front, unlike the boy, who responded to the eye contact with a challenging and some sarcastic comments.

You felt the blonde's gaze in your direction, burning your back as if it were a touch, the boy's sharp gaze went through your body as if it were a knife, he knew you had heard the diss, and you knew he was going to use it. that as a weapon.

⠀⠀────────────────────

It didn't take long for the “Best Hip-Hop Video” category to begin, suspense hung in the air until the presenter finally decided to deliver the result: — Just Lose It, Eminem! — The presenter shouted excitedly, his mouth curving into a smile as he held the prize.

The event was filled with screams and applause from celebrities and fans who participated, Marshall got up and walked to the main stage to get his trophy. Discreetly, you sighed deeply, internally wondering how they left that song not only with diss for you but also for Michael Jackson to win, you couldn't say anything, just roll your eyes and cross your arms.

Eminem stood behind the microphone, holding his award in his hands as he thanked the presenter and waved to his fans who screamed for his presence. He got a little closer to the microphone until he started dictating his speech:

— Yo, this is crazy...I don't have a speech with me so I'll just say what comes to mind, I want to thank Dr Dre, my mentor who helped me during the Encore album process, I also want to thank the people at Shady Record and Paul Rosenberg. — Marshall said, letting his blue orbs meet yours. — I'm really happy for the award, but I see that there aren't many people happy about my achievement because of the diss, Right Y/N?

A provocative smile formed on the boy's lips when he mentioned your name, you could hear comments and laughter coming from other participants in the event, unlike you, who adjusted your performance and crossed your legs, your fists clenching every time your gaze fell on that one stupid smile he had on his face, doing everything he could to get to you as if to test your patience. The rest of the night went well, unlike the exchanges of barbs that became news in the media and the looks exuding hatred between the two when they saw each other at the MTV after-party.

⠀⠀────────────────────

After a few weeks, you and your team were invited to start a new album project at a renowned studio in Los Angeles, your excitement was radiant as your mind reasoned and processed several snippets of lyrics and a response to Marshall's diss. However, his excitement quickly disappeared when he saw the same boy in the hallway, making him snort and a disinterested and hateful look form on his face. The rapper noticed a look of anger burning his back, making him turn his head with a look of distrust and mockery until his eyes fell on you, and soon that same sarcastic smile formed on his lips.

Your team made sure the two of you didn't run into each other in the hallways to avoid causing an argument, but it was difficult when Eminem came into your studio just to tease you.

After a long album production session, the moonlight finally fell over the sky, leaving you alone in the room just working on some last details on the first demo of your song. Your concentration and focus was broken by three soft knocks on the oak door, and soon a creak came, revealing Marshall.

— Alone? Even your team doesn't support you anymore? — Eminem asked in an ironic tone, leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed.

The rapper's voice made you shiver with anger, turning your head slowly towards him with an irritated expression and a raised eyebrow. —What the fuck do you want? Isn't it enough to piss me off at the entire VMAs now here too? — You responded with a grunt, removing your headphones as you stood up from his chair.

The rapper's teasing laugh drifted through the studio, stepping forward towards you.

—Are you angry? Did you forget that this is my building and you are inside one of my studios? Or didn't your team tell you that? — The boy responded with the same intensity, his eyes burning your skin.

Your ego was being hurt in that indirect fight, so your pride spoke over you.

You also took a step forward and crossed your arms, looking up at him in an intense gaze.

— I don't care if this studio is yours or not, you've been bothering me all day, are you lacking attention or what? — Your posture was confident, maintaining her eye contact with him.

Only a smirk left Eminem's lips, as he curved his body slightly towards him with his pupils dilated.

— If I managed to make you angry, it's because I caught your attention, right? — He replied, with a quick attack in a mocking and slightly rude tone. Your eyes widened and a small blush formed on yor cheeks, taking a step back slowly, which made the boy's ego even bigger.

— What is that? Where's all that courage you had until now? — He asked, taking another step forward and closing the space between you.

You couldn't deny it, he wasn't ugly, he never was, but his words made you very angry... but that anger was mixing with a kind of desire, a desire that you could see in his eyes.

And Marshall noticed this, with a confident and arrogant smile on his lips, he put his hand on her waist and gently brought her closer. Bringing your face closer. Your mind screamed for you to stop, but you couldn't deny the chemistry going on between the two of you, his blue eyes were like a magnet of attraction, the more you looked, the more you wanted. And then, her face slowly approached his, closing the space of centimeters between them in a fiery kiss, hot and full of desire, desire and anger, her arms entwined around his neck while Marshall's hands caressed her waist and went down to her breasts, caressing the spot as he deepened the kiss. Your hands scratched his back lightly as you murmured between the kiss:

— I fucking hate you.

[cherryrouge]

depth of field

photographer!y/n x harry

warnings: profanity, negative self-talk, slight sexual content

word count: 2.8k

please read aperture, part I of this fic, before reading this!

alone in her hotel room was a despair-ridden y/n, her clothes from the show thrown about her room, any effort to put them away neatly proved to be futile. she had only worked up enough courage to throw on a comedically oversized david bowie t-shirt and wash her face free of makeup. the only thing she had wanted to do was sleep as she felt that a good nights rest would take away her thoughts of it. but she knew, consciously or not, that her plan was wishful at best. she had spent the past thirty minutes resting in her preferred sleeping position seeing sudden visions of it unwillingly. each time, she’d shake her head and switch into another position as if she could leave the memories in her previous placement. she had quickly grown restless and frustrated in her inability to relax and decided to get some work done. however, with her work, the act of escaping it was impossible. she was practically accosted by it. with each new image she looked at, all from tonights show, she’s met with the reminder of just how close she was to him, to kissing him. if she had tilted her head slightly, she’s confident she wouldn’t be breeching mania over what could have happened. her only reprieve throughout her sifting through photos and wallowing in her sorrows was the images of the fans. she had been half-tempted to send harry a picture of a funny sign she spotted, an action that she would have carried out without a moments hesitation normally, but this time, she choses not to. she felt it to be ill-timing. oh, hey harry, i know we almost kissed in your greenroom earlier today and haven’t spoken since but here’s a funny sign where a fan is calling you a jackass and practically demanding you to play medicine! she groans at the thought of how silly she would look.

silly was a good way to describe how she felt about herself in this situation. silly for having a juvenile crush on her boss of all people, silly for taking that fucking picture, silly for sitting so close to him, silly for looking at his lips, silly for leaning, and silly for even thinking in general that harry fucking styles would actually be interested in her. that last one isn’t even silly, its just plain stupid. how humiliating. she buries her face into her hands, rubbing her thumbs against her temples to soothe a building headache from her incessant overthinking. she closes her eyes, taking a couple deep breaths all while reminding herself that this is not the end of the world. just because something embarrassing had happened, something that left her feeling uncomfortable in her own skin and largely dissatisfied with herself, doesn’t mean that the world in crumbling to ash. the earth would continue to spin, the people in it would continue to go about their lives, and y/n will to. finally calming down, she shifts to another image she took from the show. the focus has changed once again and she is met with harry’s eyes and electrifying stage presence. she can tell he’s dancing wildly in that moment, his limbs displaying as much. she can also tell something is off with him. there’s a distant look in his eye as he looks into the lens. perhaps he had not been trying to look at her, accidentally looking over at the wrong time. but she knew better, and she knew the cause of that look. for a moment, she wonders what he’s doing at this very minute. if he’s been thinking about it too, head in his hands at the edge of his bed, knee bouncing as a way to soothe himself. she figured that thought, like the rest of them, was silly. he, in reality, was most likely soundly sleeping. the only worry in his head being if his fans made it to their places of rest safely and the quality of his performance. with a sigh, she closes her eyes and leans her head back against the headboard. she stays in the tranquil silence long enough to nearly lull her to sleep. however, the blaring noise of her ringtone startles her awake. with a slight gasp and shaking hands, she picks up her phone quickly noting the caller.

fuck. its fucking harry.

“hello?” she answers softly, carefully approaching their interaction.

“hey,” he says, voice raspy from the nights previous activities, “are you busy?”

“um- no, not really. why?“

“i’m on my way to your room. i need to talk to you.”

her mouth gapes at this sudden announcement, “oh, ok. yeah, ok. i’ll see you soon.”

with her confirmation, he hangs up the phone.

fuck. fuck. fuck.

she hurriedly moves her laptop to the bedside table and stands from her place on the bed, throwing her phone onto it before assessing the state of her room. there is nothing graceful about the way she flails about stuffing things into her suitcase to give the room the appearance of neatness. she fixes the bed, pulling the comforter up slightly and adjusts the pillows so they look nearly untouched. she then dashes to the bathroom, taking in her appearance. she lightly brushes out her eyebrows, combing them in to place and fluffs her hair. just as she believes she looks half decent, she remembers the state of her bare legs. she all but dashes into the main room to her suitcase quickly rummaging through it to get her sleep shorts. it’s then that she hears a knock on the door. with the shorts around her ankles and her body contorting to pull them up her legs, she walks to the door. with her heart hammering and her lungs gasping for air, she opens it with her shorts up and on. looking up at him, she is stunned by his state. he looks tired, still good. obviously. even his worst days are better that mosts best. she’s shocked by the intimacy of this moment. how vulnerable he looks. he is the pinnacle of strength, of power, or talent, yet here, standing in front of her, is just harry. finding herself in this moment, she swiftly moves herself out of the way so he can enter. once he’s in the room, he sits on the edge of the bed. taking in her appearance as she shuts the door and walks towards him, stopping at the end of the small hallway, providing some distance between them. her eyes are down, focus on her bare feet again the rugged carpeting of the hotel room. his eyes are fixed on her. the moment of silence that falls upon them is thick with anticipation and anxiety.

harry clears his throat incidentally. the act calling her attention to him. their eyes meet and y/n is all consumed with the need to break the intense silence.

“i’m so-“

“i wa-“

both fall quiet after the clashing of their voices, groveling to clear the hair. y/n softly giggles, an anxious, self-soothing habit she developed when trying to make light of uncomfortable situations. her habit seems to sooth harry a bit as for the first time since he arrived, a smile crosses his features. albeit, a close lipped one. one that could have lead to a full toothy grin has their situation not called for such seriousness.

“i’m sorry, you begin.” she says gently, gesturing to him from her place in the wall. her arms cross her chest, almost holding herself. the feeling giving her only a sliver of comfort. harry smiles at her and turns his head, pausing to find his words.

“i know this probably isn’t the conversation that you want to be having right now but we should just get it out of the way.” his voice cuts through the quiet of the room. she nearly winces at the sound.

she’s bending under the crushing intensity of his gaze and his silence. she wishes nothing more than to crawl into herself, find a place of comfort deep inside herself where maybe she would find some relief from this moment. he coughs looking to the side, eyes consequently meeting her laptop which had been left open and unattended on the bed side table of the hotel room when y/n was prompted to hastily tidy her room upon his unexpected arrival. it’s a photo of him from tonight’s show, looking down the barrel of the lens. it’s a good shot, though every image turned to gold with her skill so he can’t say he’s surprised. however, it’s that skillfulness that leaves it all on the table -every emotion, every movement, everything- and tonight, more than ever, he can see just how off he was.

“i don’t want things to be awkward between us, love,” he coughs at the end of his sentence, punctuating his own discomfort.

“i don’t either, i’m really sorry-“

“but i also don’t want to forget that it happened,” their eyes meet and for the first time since he’s entered the room, she doesn’t avert her’s elsewhere.

“har-“

“i hope you know by now that i adore you.”

she huffs out a surprised laugh, coming out as more of an exasperated forced exhale, “what?”

“and it’s more than just professional. i’ve tried for months to keep these feelings at bay, but it’s so fucking hard. because you are you. you come into my green room every show with a smile on your face and tell me stories that lift my mood, you shy away at every deserved compliment, you care for everyone around, even the people that maybe don’t do the same for you. you are just so fucking perfect that it’s overwhelmingly difficult to not develop a crush on-“

“harry-“

“please, let me finish, love,” he looks up at her, his dazzling green eyes filled with an unfamiliar look. his face conveying a moony, love-gutted expression. an image she had never seen before but never wanted to forget. she nods her head, eyes wide with a gleam that no doubt mirrored the one in harry’s. he lets out a breath, running a hand through his hair and stands, y/n’s eyes tracking every movement. not wanted to miss a second of this sacred moment.

“i couldn’t help it. everything you do seems to pull me in deeper. you could probably just breath in the same room as me and i’d fall to my knees.” he lets out a small laugh at the sentiment, taking a step closer to her. she softly smiles, although her face conveyed her pleasant surprise at his confession.

“it’s not professional, but i can’t stop it and don’t think i would even if i had a choice.” with every word he utters, he steps closer until he’s stood right in front of her. his tilting down and her’s up. their closeness is palpable. she can feel the warm of his body radiating. her breathing shockingly level, chest rising and falling with every breath. she is hyper aware of his movements, even the slightest twitch of his finger or bat of his lashes registers in her brain. they stand, familiarizing themselves once again with the feeling of being this close to each other. in this moment, harry takes it upon himself to close their distance. a ringless hand rising to plant itself of the smooth skin of her bicep. her breathing hitches, a glazed over expression taking over her features. he brushes his hand against the soft, warm skin before sliding both of his hand to hold her face. his gaze falters down to her parted, rose-tinted lips. his eyes alternate between her lips and eyes as his brings his face closer to hers. y/n sighs at the closeness, at the feeling of his breath fanning against her cheeks, warming them that much more.

“y/n-“

“please,” she nearly whines. in any other scenario, she would be embarrassed by her desperation but she supposes that this isn’t just any other scenario.

at the sound of the whined word, harry lets out his own breathy whine before finally putting his lips to hers. and it is everything. it’s soft, but deep. controlled, but so very desperate. the intensity prompts y/n to move her hands that lamely hung at her sides to rest on his waist. the feeling of her hands finally on him causes harry to sigh and deepen the kiss, tongue prodding her lips for entry, which she easily accepts.

throughout her time of knowing him, she could only define him as one word as a subject: entrancing. watching work as he commands, entices, and seduces his audiences but also watching him exist as a normal person is nothing short of entrancing. feeling him — his energy, his kindness, his care, his touch — is nothing short of entrancing. and now, y/n can confidently say that kissing harry is mindnumpingly entrancing. the only thought in her head is him, the only thing she can feel is him, and the only thing she could ever need in this moment is him. he is all consuming. so much so, she doesn’t feel her change in location until her back is gently pressed into the mattress with his hand on her hip and the other on the pillow beside her head. seeing him in this position, looking down at her as his knee presses into the space on the bed between her legs, his hair swooping down his forehead, jade- green eyes positively sparking with want and need in the low lighting of the room. she finds herself longing for her camera. wishing she could capture this moment, this feeling to keep with her forever. the two take heavy breathes, regaining composure and control of themselves. though that composure and control hangs by a thread. every moment spent gazing at the other solidifies their longing to be close, to be closer, that it is nearly suffocating. harry’s eyes close as he breaths, trying to cling to the last shred of sanity before he surely gives into his ever long internal battle against is yearning for her. but it was a losing cause. and when she brings her hands to skate up his torso to find the resting places on the back of his neck and in his hair, he knows just how helpless a losing cause it was.

harry dips his head down to kiss her spit swollen lips, humming at the sensation. he splits his lips and her tongue dances against his. his hand that was once resting on her hip moves up to her jaw. her hand in his hair clutches onto his chocolate locks, tugging softly, a movement that causing harry to separate himself momentary to groan before attaching his lips to her jaw before making his way down to her neck and collarbones. his hands dip down the the hem of her shirt before pushing under and finding the soft skin of her waist. she mewls and softly sighs under his touch. her own hands carding through his hand and caresses his shoulders. she pulls his face up from where he’s been trailing his lips to be level with her own desperate gaze. he smiles at her expression, wearing the emotions he feels all the same on her beautiful features. his hands on her waist squeeze and caress the skin there.

“hi,” he breathes out with a dimpled smile playing on his mouth. she giggles chirping his words back to him.

the two stare at the other for some moment, the comfortable quiet the falls upon them filled with adoration and bliss. now knowing where the other finally stands, there’s no space for over thinking. not when harry smiles down at her, pushing the hair out of her face. not when y/n gleams up at him with moony eyes. the rest of the night, the two lay in a love-filled haze. cuddled up under the blankets, legs intertwined. they laugh and share anecdotes, dreams and aspirations, until the early hours of the morning until neither can physically keep their eyes open anymore.

walking up to find y/n curled into his side, hand splayed across his stomach, her head on his chest, was the most lovely sight head ever seen. as he brushed his fingers through her hair, he could only dream of the world he would give her if she allowed him to. and god, he hopes she would.

-

thank you all very much for your patience and support as we come to a close on this story. from the bottom of my heart, i am so grateful to feel so welcomed by this community. if you have any ideas about future fics or blurbs for this one, please reach out. i’m looking forward to introducing our next couple.

with love, rory.

[oliverreedmasterass]

Synopsis: The members of Greta Van Fleet agree to do an interview with the Human Napkin himself, Nardwuar, and find themselves ridiculously unprepared for his interview style.

Words: 2k

Warnings: language, some sexual innuendos (kinda?), mentions of stalking, the void™️

Notes: Shoutout to @skywaydrifter for the amazing fic idea, and sending me down a wild Nardwuar binge-fest

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

Nardwuar theme plays with the animated intro video. The shot opens to show NARDWUAR standing in front of an impressive display of vinyl records, next to JOSH KISZKA. 

NARDWUAR: How are you?

Nardwuar shoves his microphone into Josh’s face. Josh flinches back a bit, but then leans into the microphone.

JOSH: Absolutely groovy. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me who you are. 

JOSH: That’s a bit of a loaded question. I’m a dreamer, a mere mortal, a man with a dream…

NARDWUAR: Your name. 

JOSH: Oh. Josh Kiszka. Frontman for the group, Greta Van Fleet. 

Josh curtsies to the camera.

NARDWUAR: Welcome to Vancouver, British Columbia, Canada. And right off the bat, I have a gift for ya.   

JOSH puts a hand over his heart and looks at the camera in shock.

JOSH: Now I feel bad, I didn’t bring you anything. 

NARDWUAR (continued): I’ve got this 1966 album, All About Miriam. 

JOSH: (taking the album and cradling it in his arms) Oh my goodness.

NARDWUAR: I heard that you’re a fan. 

JOSH: Miriam Makeba? Oh yeah, she’s one of my favorites. My parents had a few of her albums that they would play all the time when I was younger. She’s got such a rich voice, I can only dream of sounding like that. 

NARDWUAR: But you do have a pretty distinct voice that I’m sure a lot of people are jealous of. How did you find that sound? 

JOSH: I started screaming and then I guess I kind of found my way, eventually. (chuckles) No, but actually, my vocal coach, Ron, I call him “The Master” because he genuinely saved my vocal cords. I wouldn’t be where I am today without him. 

NARDWUAR: How do you do it? Is it special vocal warmups? Some kind of mystery technique? 

JOSH: Well, you see, if I told you, I’d have to kill you. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got another gift for you here, Josh. 

JOSH: Oh god, now I feel super bad. 

NARDWUAR: Costumes are a big part of your stage presence. Here, I’ve got a piece that might look familiar to you. 

Nardwuar holds out Josh’s infamous golden pants, and Josh reluctantly takes them.

JOSH: Oh boy, I forgot how shiny and see through these were. 

NARDWUAR: You wore these in the sweltering sun on the iHeart Radio festival stage in Las Vegas, Nevada on Saturday, September 22, 2018, didn’t you? 

JOSH: I’m not sure if these are the exact pair…

NARDWUAR: They are. 

JOSH: Huh? Did you dig them out of the dumpster or something? 

NARDWUAR: Now, Josh, can you tell me about Sean Reyes?

Josh looks at Nardwuar with intense skepticism.

JAKE: (offscreen) What the fuck? 

JOSH: Now how do you know about Sean Reyes? 

NARDWUAR: It’s Josh Kiszka trivia!

Josh squints at Nardwuar, uncertain.

JOSH: Sean Reyes was my third grade teacher. 

NARDWUAR: And he was the one who encouraged you to write poetry, right? 

JOSH: Yes…..

NARDWUAR: Like haikus? 

JOSH: Mr. Reyes would play a lot of folk stuff for us, like John Denver, Joni Mitchell, all the classics, and he could tell I really dug it. He pulled me aside after class, showed me some of his favorite lyrics, and explained how it was a form of poetry. I took that to heart and spent a lot of time outside of class writing poems after that.

NARDWUAR: Were they any good? 

JOSH: Well, some lines ended up in our songs, so you tell me. 

NARDWUAR: Well, I heard your twin brother behind the camera just now. Let’s bring him out here. Come here, Jake! 

JAKE joins Josh’s side in front of the camera, looking nervous. He’s wringing his hands, avoiding eye contact with Nardwuar.

NARDWUAR: Hello, Jake. 

JAKE: (short) Hi. 

NARDWUAR: I have a gift for you. 

JAKE: Uh, okay. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a poster from H.O.R.D.E. Festival at Deer Creek Music Center in Noblesville, Indiana featuring big names like Blues Traveler, The Black Crowes, and Taj Mahal from 1995. Something important happened at this festival, right? 

Jake pales.

JAKE: Uh. Uh. 

Josh is staring pretty hard at Nardwuar.

JAKE: (to Josh) There’s no way he knows about that. How could he know about that? 

Nardwuar sneaks the microphone closer into Jake’s mouth. 

NARDWUAR: Well? 

JAKE: Okay, uh, they might kill me for admitting this on camera, but my parents are pretty sure that’s where Josh and I were conceived. 

NARDWUAR: Do you like Taj Mahal? 

Jake struggles to rebound from that 180. 

JAKE: Um (beat) yeah. I’d list him as a big influence. 

NARDWUAR: And another gift for Jake Kiszka! 

JAKE: (whispering to Josh) This guy freaks me out. 

NARDWUAR: Here you go! 

Nardwuar tosses Jake a ziploc bag containing something brown. Jake’s reflexes get the better of him and he grabs the bag out of the air, and then blankly studies what’s in his hands. 

JAKE: What the actual fuck. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what you’re holding there! 

JAKE: Hair. It’s my hair. 

JOSH: What??

JAKE: I’m not even joking. This is what they chopped off, like, last year before our second leg of the Dreams in Gold Tour. 

JOSH: (growing defensive of his brother) Where did you get that from?

NARDWUAR: What was the reason for the big chop? 

JAKE: I could have sworn my hairdresser said she was going to donate that. 

NARDWUAR: Oh, she did. 

JAKE: I’m sorry, what? 

SAM bounds into the scene in front of the camera, looking energetic. 

SAM: This is fun! Do me now! 

NARDWUAR: Sam Kiszka! Alright, Jake. Thanks and doot doola doot doo…

JAKE: Huh? 

NARDWUAR: (finishing for Jake) Doo doo! (turns to Sam) I have a question for you. 

Sam is hopping from foot to foot and clapping his hands with glee while Jake confusedly wanders off camera.

SAM: Fire away! 

NARDWUAR: Your aunt works at State Farm in Chicago. 

DANNY: (offscreen) That’s not a question. 

JOSH: How could you possibly know that? 

NARDWUAR: Have you ever had to file a claim with her? 

SAM: Well, actually one time…

JOSH: Ssh! Don’t tell him anything. 

NARDWUAR: (entirely unbothered) I have a gift you might like, Sam! 

SAM: Oh my god! You guys aren’t gonna believe this. It’s my birth certificate! 

JOSH: What kind of interviewer are you?? 

NARDWUAR: I’m just a fan, guys, just a fan. I love your music! 

Sam’s phone rings. 

SAM: Whoops, sorry. I know this is unprofessional but, one sec. I gotta take this. 

Instead of going off camera to answer the phone in private like a normal person, Sam answers the phone and puts it on speaker. 

SAM (continued): Y’ello? 

KAREN: (obviously shaken) Sam? 

SAM: Hey Mom, what’s up? 

KAREN: Are you boys alright? 

Josh grabs the phone from Sam. 

JOSH: Mom? What’s going on? 

KAREN: Someone broke into our house while your dad and I were on our trip. We’re worried it might have been a stalker since they took a lot of your possessions and some important documents. 

JOSH: Oh my god, are you okay? 

KAREN: Fine, just a bit shaken up. But, I’m so sorry, they stole Sammy’s birth certificate. 

Sam calls into the phone over Josh’s shoulder.

SAM: Don’t worry about it, Mom! I just got it gifted back to me! 

Josh hands Sam his phone and rushes away. 

JOSH: (screaming offscreen) RICHARD! WE NEED BACKUP!

KAREN: I’m gonna have to call my sister to file a claim. They broke a crazy amount of our windows. Like, way more than they needed to. What a headache.

DANNY: (to Nardwuar) You have a lot of explaining to do. 

NARDWUAR: I’ve got a gift for you, Daniel! 

Nardwuar pulls out a pack of old Beatles cards. 

DANNY: I don’t want it. 

NARDWUAR: It’s a pack of 1964 Beatles collector’s cards, in mint condition! 

DANNY: Wait, I do want it. 

Danny takes the cards from Nardwuar and looks at them with delight. 

NARDWUAR: You’re a big fan of the Beatles, right? 

DANNY: Oh yeah, I always have been.

JAKE: You’re not seriously continuing this interview. 

DANNY: (while opening and flipping through the pack of cards) I mean, this is a pretty cool gift. 

JAKE: (evidently at his wit’s end) This guy 100% broke into my family’s house, and he for sure did the same to your parents. 

NARDWUAR: Would you say there was a specific Beatles album that most inspired you? 

DANNY: Definitely Rubber Soul. I loved hearing them try folk. 

Jake throws up his hands in exasperation. 

DANNY: Norwegian Wood genuinely changed my life. 

NARDWUAR: In what way? 

JAKE: Nope, we’re not doing this anymore. 

Jake thrusts his finger up into Nardwuar’s face. 

JAKE (continued): What else did you take from us, you son of a bitch? 

NARDWUAR: Does it count as “taking” if I give it back to you? 

JAKE: Yes! 

NARDWUAR: I’d beg to differ. 

DANNY: (looking through his cards) Woah! I’ve never seen this photo of Ringo Starr before! 

Josh comes rushing back to the scene with their bodyguard and pal, RICHARD. 

RICHARD: (scanning around on full alert) Where is he? 

JOSH: (shrill, pointing at Nardwuar) There! 

Nardwuar simply grins at Richard. 

NARDWUAR: Can you tell me about Grubbyknot? 

Richard is obviously thrown off, and he lets down his guard. 

RICHARD: Huh? Grubbyknot? That was my metal band in high school. But we only played like two shows. One was in my parent’s garage. 

JOSH: Don’t let him get into your head, Richard! You’re our big guns, we can’t lose you! 

SAM: Do you have another gift for me, Nardwuar? 

Nardwuar stares at Sam, entirely expressionless. 

NARDWUAR: No, I don’t. Doot doola doot doo…

SAM: Doo-doo? 

Upon Sam’s words, he vanishes into thin air. Jake is so terrified, he falls to the ground and cowers on the floor. 

JAKE: Jesus Christ! 

NARDWUAR: I usually like to speak with only 1-2 people at a time on camera. It’s getting a little bit too crowded for me right now. 

Nardwuar looks at Danny, whose attention is finally away from his cards, and is gawking at the empty space where Sam was just standing. 

NARDWUAR: (continued, making eye contact with Danny) Doot doola doot doo…

Danny stares back at Nardwuar in horror, his mouth sealed shut. Nardwuar sings the little tune again, holding his microphone up to Danny to finish it. 

JAKE: (cutting in) Doo doo! (beat) Fuck! 

Jake disappears. 

JOSH: (explaining to Richard and Danny) He has this condition where he can’t handle hearing an unfinished tune. Poor guy has a curse.

NARDWUAR: Just one more to go. 

Nardwuar focuses his attention back to Danny. 

DANNY: Where did you send them? 

NARDWUAR: To another place. 

DANNY: Super helpful, thanks. 

NARDWUAR: Don’t mention it. 

DANNY: Are they still alive? 

NARDWUAR: I can’t see why not. I’m a fan! I wouldn’t hurt you guys. 

Danny sighs. 

DANNY: Okay. Send me away so I can do some damage control. 

RICHARD: No! 

NARDWUAR: Doot doola doot doo…

DANNY: (unenthused, clapping his hands on the beat) Doo doo.

Danny is gone. 

RICHARD: My boss is gonna kill me. 

JOSH: I’m pretty sure I’m your boss. 

Richard widens his eyes and holds his hands up in a defensive position, backing slowly away from Josh. 

JOSH (continued): Oh, come on. I’m not gonna hurt you, Richard. 

RICHARD: You did dump an entire bag of flour over my head that one time. And kicked that giant chocolate bar in my hands. And swung a folding chair at me backstage. 

JOSH: All tiny, insignificant hiccups.

NARDWUAR: Josh, you’re gonna love this next thing that I’ve got for you. 

JOSH: Please, no. 

Nardwuar hands Josh a Scooby Doo plushie. 

NARDWUAR: Tell me what that is. 

Josh studies the stuffed animal, trying to discern how it has any relevance to him. 

JOSH: Scooby Doo? 

NARDUWAR: What was that second word?

JOSH: Doo?

NARDWUAR: Wait. Say it again? (under his breath) Doot doola doot doo…

JOSH: Doo? 

Nardwuar taps on his ear, signaling that he didn’t hear Josh. Josh huffs and rolls his eyes. 

JOSH (continued, enunciating maybe a little bit too much): Doo! 

Josh disappears. 

NARDWUAR: Well, this has been fun. Keep on rockin’ in the free world and doot doola doot doo…

It’s silent around him since there’s no one there to finish his jingle. Nardwuar continues to grin wider and wider until he’s nearing uncomfortably close to uncanny valley. 

The scene shifts to a confusing plane seemingly everywhere and nowhere at once. A pattern reminiscent of Nardwuar’s red and green plaid Tammy cap stretches from the floor to the sky. Josh and Richard appear in the mysterious space, Josh screaming with terror. 

JAKE: Hey. 

DANNY: Nice of you to join us. 

It takes a while for Josh to collect himself but, when he does, he notices Jake and Danny standing in front of him. 

JOSH: Where’s Sammy? 

DANNY: He went to take a piss. 

RICHARD: Hey, wait, I didn’t say the doo doo thing. Why am I here? 

Josh shrugs. 

JOSH: We must be a package deal or something. 

RICHARD: That’s wildly unfair. 

SAM: (off in the distance) Woah, I had a lot more in my bladder than I thought. I wouldn’t come over here if I were you, guys. I can cross “building a manmade lake” off my bucket list.

JAKE: God, I need to get out of here. 

DANNY: And how are we gonna do that, Jake? 

Jake has no clue. He’s frankly dumbfounded. 

The scene jumps back to Nardwuar, still in front of the records. He seems unaware that the camera is still rolling. 

NARDWUAR: (to someone offscreen) Yeah, yeah. They should be gone for good. Yup. The plaid void, where I sent Dave Rowntree. We should be good to steal their identities now. God knows we’ve done enough research. 

Back in the plaid void. 

DANNY: Holy shit, is that Dave Rowntree?

RICHARD: The guy from Blur? 

DAVE ROWNTREE: CURSE YE FOUL BEAST, NARDWUAR! 

Fin.  

Note: The names/facts listed in the interview within this fic are all entirely fictitious. I'm not about to start leaking private and personal information about the guys.

[bloomingstay]

favorite kpop group tag~ thank you @binniesbang!

who is your favorite kpop group?

stray kids, if that was any surprise

which member sparked your interest first?

hyunjin! i've almost always been pulled in by the dancer (lee know i know but) specifically the style of dance hyunjin excels in. the isolation is so satisfying and cool. for some reason choreo always gets a song stuck in my head??

But also!! I had heard they produced their own music and that really got me interested in kpop again

who was your first bias?

chris bang 🤍 went from zero to ult within no more than two days tbh…

what makes them your current bias?

oh god. um. i'll put this in the least embarrassing way possible. (this is a kpop tumblr blog I should probably get over it)

it was a particularly bad year. i stumbled upon their silly videos (thank you stay for the edits<3) and they made me laugh. then i started seeing clips of chans room and him interacting with the boys and just like... he's so wonderful. he's generous and kind and loving and thoughtful. just a shy lil guy who also happens to be a flirt and a fucking dork and it's cute man idk shut upp

who is your bias wrecker?

i was certain i'd never have one, i truly adore each of those boys so so much.

i was however proven wrong after a very sweet, silly compilation of binnie being ridiculous. followed by a face cam of his sclass performance in the supreme jersey?? and the curls?? he has such amazing stage presence and he's a great dancer. but he kept going from his cute sweet binnie expressions looking like he was just so into it and having fun, to the "dark rapper" eyes and commanding stage presence. and like, wow. 🖤 i am a sucker for that kind of duality.

which members are you currently obsessing over that aren't your bias/wrecker?

in another reality han is my wrecker. that boy is the epitome of what i used to look for in guys: babygirl. lol. well, and insanely talented and funny and everything. I adore him

after befriending a couple seungmin stans, i started looking for pics and clips to send them and found myself so incredibly impressed with him and touched by some of the things he's said and done. plus he’s a funny little shit.

hwang hyunjin is such a sweet boy. since we got producer jinnie on the last album i have been looking back and just so impressed with his growth 🤍

when did you first discover the group?

(Upon editing I realize I read this as ‘how’ but oh well)

okokok so

i was a kpop fan 2014-2017 and went all in. kcon and concerts the whole thing

but then i was just on my usual 6 hour yt shorts binge as i tried to fall asleep and saw skz reacting to the "your eyes" mv, specifically felix's part, obviously. i watched it like 12 times just cry laughing at han screaming, hyunjin trying to escape, channie hiding behind his hands and squealing. it was just so funny to see a group kind of clowning their own shit? i thought they were hilarious.

then i saw julien (solomita) had reacted to 'topline' and i was soooo into it. immediately went to watch some mvs and decided cool i'll be a totally normal casual fan of this group’s music….. :)

THEN a lovely lady i'd followed on my 10 year old tumblr account posted about skz. i messaged her that I’d finally decided to check them out and she was kind enough to answer questions and entertain my onslaught of messages as I screamed about how much I love these boys. and she still does everyday so. thank you hana 🌸

have you ever been to one of their concerts?

not yet~

what are some of your favorite songs by them?

THIS SECTION TOOK ME WAY TOO LONG. disclaimer: I absolutely could not include non ot8 this would’ve been 30 songs (I’m probably going to cheat)

Hall of fame. bitch ever since that live stage (which was the first time I’d heard it) I’ve listened to the sclass album 3 times a week no joke, goddamn it’s so good. so just know, i pulled almost every song from that album off this list when i made cuts

levanter. a hard pill to swallow mid relationship struggles and holds a lot of meaning for me.

secret secret. i can't get over how professional this song sounds and how it was just a few years in?

leave. where i got my username~ like I said, relationship stuff. You have not yet really bloomed When the new season comes I hope the warmth will make you bloom Into a flower that never dies

sclass. *bling bling* HIPHOPSTEP. such a fucking chaotic mess of a jam.

megaverse. the breakdown? MEGAPHONE. Han, bitch? We make the rules nobody can hold me yeaaahhh. Your body shakes - STRAY KIDS EVERYWHERE ALL AROUND THE WORLD. Sorry, flawless.

gods menu. ate, bitch. chan was something the fuck else

domino. neeed I say more

social path is bomb

grow up. read lyrics for the first time just now ow

eternity. told u I’d cheat.

love poem. big cheat my list worth it

I am going to be so mad when I realize I missed a song I listen to 7 times a day but been doin this for 2 hours so I’m calling it. Also forgive me I’m still working through the discography (backwards) and haven’t listened to the full first couple albums.

the adhd is allowing no further focus or thought so i will be tagging the same friends as my last tag post no pressure <3

@channieblossoms @skzms @roseykat @thefantasyden @seungsungracha @astraysis @channieswife

Thank you again @binniesbang for tagging me~!

[lemoncrushh]

The Entertainer - Track 04 - Pajamas & The Holiday Inn

Summary: Set in the 70s, Sky Jones, a young woman from L.A., meets Harry Styles, an up-and-coming musician and frontman for the band Wildfire. Told in first person from Sky’s point of view, she shares her journey and what it’s like to fall for a rockstar.

STORY PAGE

Track 04 Word Count: 3.6k

I wish I could say that Harry and I fell in love and everything was sunbeams and roses after that, but that’s just not how it happened. In fact, I didn’t even see him again for over a week when Wildfire had another gig. Both he and I ended up being busy and he didn’t show up with Mitch on the two occasions that he stayed over with Halo. I didn’t let it get to me. The rock and roll lifestyle is nothing if not spontaneous and fickle.

I liked him though. And that acknowledgement came to me tenfold when I saw him on stage again. He was the ultimate front man, a force to be reckoned with. I felt myself turned on by his mere presence, and when we’d make eye contact, it was like someone had poured syrup on my head and it ran down to the crevices between my toes.

Who the fuck was I kidding? I liked him a lot. And I found myself angry, at what exactly I didn’t know, when I followed Halo backstage. Like before, I stood off to the side, my eyes on the ground as Halo pounced on the leather worn out sofa, waiting for Mitch. I crossed my arms, almost wishing I hadn’t come at all. I felt stupid, like I’d crossed some line between fan and reality, or maybe…just maybe…I was afraid that Harry didn’t like me the way I liked him.

I heard him before I saw him. He and the rest of the band were making their way backstage, all of them enthusiastic about yet another fantastic performance. I saw Halo’s face light up when Mitch walked through the doorway. She squealed as he sat down beside her and they wrapped their arms around each other. Harry saw me and for a second he looked like he was coming towards me until Deacon called him.

“Harry, mate, I’m gonna pull the van around back so I can start loading the gear.”

“Yeah, sure man, I’ll be right there.”

“Mitch, you coming?” asked Deacon. “I don’t wanna be here until bloody sunup!”

“Yeah, yeah!” Mitch pried Halo’s arms off of him and kissed her on the forehead. “Gotta go, babe.”

Halo made a face and sat back down on the couch. It was then that I noticed Harry had walked over to me.

“Hi,” he said with a small grin.

“Hey.”

“Haven’t heard from you.”

I blinked. “I’m sorry…was I supposed to call?”

I knew I sounded a bit snarky, and I caught the sting it left in Harry’s expression before it disappeared.

“No,” he replied. “Just missed you.”

My breath caught in my throat and in one split second my face softened. “Oh.”

“How are you?”

“I’m okay.”

Harry touched my hand gently, his thumb rubbing the back of it.

“Actually wanted to ring you myself, but it’s been a crazy week.”

“Yeah.”

“We’re um…going into the studio next week.”

“Really?” my eyes widened. “That’s great!”

“Yeah,” he smiled. “We’ve um…got another gig tomorrow night. It’s in Chula Vista, so Deacon wants to get the gear packed up so we can get home and get some sleep before we head out.”

“Oh. It’s not that far to Chula Vista, is it?”

“No. But Deacon lives in Long Beach and we’re all gonna stay at his place tonight so we can just ride together. We have to be there by three o’clock.”

“Oh.”

Harry gave me a sweet smile and squeezed my hand. “I was hoping to spend some time with you. This kinda came up suddenly. Today, in fact.”

“It’s okay.”

Harry looked down at our hands, then back up at me.

“I’ll…be in the studio a lot…but maybe…we can get together sometime.”

I grinned. “I’d like that.”

“Harry! Can you give me a hand, please?” Deacon called.

“Yeah, sorry mate!” Harry yelled back. Then he turned to me. “Gotta go.”

I shrugged. “I can help too, if you like.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

I beckoned to a hesitant but ultimately willing Halo and with our assistance, the guys were able to load up their gear quicker than they’d anticipated. Deacon cranked up the van, the sound of Paul Simon coming through the speaker.

“When mama pajama rolled out of bed She ran to the police station…”

Harry shut the back door of the van and grinned at me.

“Thanks, Sky.”

“Anytime, you know? Just like my sofa.”

Harry chuckled. “Kinda wish I was sleeping on your sofa tonight. Lee already called Deacon’s and I don’t reckon his floor is very soft.”

“I can’t imagine my sofa is very comfortable.”

“I have no complaints,” he commented. “Plus I like those pajamas you wear.”

I glared at him, my mouth wide open. “What pajamas?”

“Those cute little yellow and white ones with the ribbon in the front.”

“When have you seen those?” I asked, my voice getting higher.

Harry smirked. “When you walk by to go to the bathroom. Then you check on me, but I pretend I’m asleep.”

If it hadn’t been for Deacon announcing he was ready to go, I would have eventually said a word or two. But at the moment I was speechless. Harry chuckled and pulled me into a hug and kissed the top of my head.

“Goodbye, love,” he murmured in my hair.

I watched him as he walked up the side of the van and climbed in. Mitch sat in the passenger seat, Halo standing next to him and kissing him goodbye. I felt an empty somberness in my chest, like that feeling you get when you’ve finished a good book but you’re sad that it’s over.

“Sky!” I suddenly heard.

Harry had opened the side door to the van and was poking his head out, beckoning me.

“Yeah?” I asked, stepping up to him.

He climbed out of the van, took my face in his hands and kissed me. Really kissed me. So much that I felt my knees buckle and heard Deacon swear to Christ under his breath.

“Much better,” declared Harry, his face beaming.

Once again, my voice betrayed me and I had no words. None were needed though. Harry waved at me from the van as they pulled away and I waved back, my chest no longer feeling empty and somber. There was no way it possibly could. My heart was very much alive and happy.

“Goodbye to Rosie, the queen of Corona…”

I woke up to music and the smell of bacon. The first thing was not unusual, but the latter was. I kicked off the covers and rubbed my eyes before walking into the living room. Halo was standing over the stove, scrabbling eggs and dancing to the radio.

“From where I stand It looks mighty strange How you let a woman like that Treat you like small change”

I giggled at the spectacle as I entered the kitchen. She eyed me, knowing I loved the Neil Sedaka song, so when the chorus began, she mimed handing me a mic so I’d sing the Elton John parts.

“Bad (bad) blood (blood) The bitch is in her smile The lie is on her lips Such an evil child”

“What are you doing in here?” I finally asked her.

“Cooking breakfast, what does it look like?”

“What’s the occasion though?”

I danced around her to the coffee pot and poured myself a cup.

“No real reason. I have to work today, so I thought I’d make something decent before I go.”

“I’m surprised you’re not on your way to Chula Vista,” I commented.

“Yeah, I would have gone, but it was too last minute. I can’t take off work.” Halo turned off the burner. “You should go though. Surprise Harry.”

I gave her a look. “I don’t think so.”

“Why not? He’d probably love it.”

“Eh. I don’t wanna be that girl.”

“What girl?”

“The one who follows a band around because she might or might not have something going with a member of that band.”

“Gee, thanks,” scoffed Halo.

“I didn’t mean that. I mean…you’re not…”

Halo continued to glare at me so I grabbed a plate and danced.

“Do run, do run, di di dit, do run run…”

“Sky!” she exclaimed, making me stop.

“What?”

“What did you mean by that?”

“I mean…you’re you. And I’m…me. You and Mitch…you obviously have something. I don’t…know how Harry feels about me.”

Halo scooped up a large spoonful of eggs and dropped them onto a plate, avoiding my gaze.

“It’s just sex,” she muttered.

“Huh?”

“Mitch and me. We don’t really have anything going on. It’s just sex.”

“Oh. Well, there’s nothing wrong with that.”

Halo shrugged and brought her plate to the table with a glass of juice.

“Are you saying you want more?”

“No,” she shook her head. “When you get too attached…that’s when you get hurt.”

I nodded. She’d told me those exact words before. It was kind of the mantra that Halo lived by. I understood what she meant. It’s one thing to be a fan of a band, and even hang out with them if you get the chance. But it’s completely another when feelings are involved. It’s common knowledge that musicians aren’t like regular guys. They don’t settle down and have relationships. It goes against everything they stand for.

I filled my own plate and joined Halo at the table. We sat through a whole other song before either of us said another word.

“He likes you.”

“What?” I swallowed.

“I told you already, but you just said you don’t know how Harry feels about you, so I’m telling you again. He likes you. As more than a pal.”

I dropped my fork on my plate. “Well, now you’re just contradicting yourself.”

“No, I’m not. I just know what works for me. Doesn’t mean I can’t still be a romantic.”

“Why does that work for you? Don’t you think you deserve romance?”

Halo took a sip of juice, pondering my question.

“I don’t know. Maybe. Someday. I just know how guys in bands are.”

I scoffed. “Harry and Mitch are in the same band.”

“Yeah…but Mitch doesn’t look at me the way Harry looks at you.”

The man handed the key over to me, a kind smile on his chubby face.

“Room 202,” he said.

“Thank you.”

“Would you like a wake up call?”

“Oh, no thanks.”

“Enjoy your stay.”

I slung my duffle bag over my shoulder and made my way around the sidewalk and up the stairs. My room was the second one I came to. Locking the door behind me, I dropped my bag on the floor beside the bed, my keys on the table with the card that welcomed me to the Holiday Inn. Gazing around the room, I let out a deep breath. I couldn’t believe it. Just four hours ago, I’d told Halo she was being ridiculous - I was not going to drive all the way to Chula Vista. Yet there I was.

Mitch had told Halo where they were playing, but I had no idea where it was. I had no idea what I was going to do or say to Harry if he saw me. I had no plan. Just a credit card and an old Volkswagen. And a pair of yellow and white pajamas.

I took a shower, washing my hair and body with complimentary Holiday Inn toiletries. I shaved and scrubbed all the important parts, and even some of the not-so-important parts. I brushed my teeth and let my hair air dry like I usually did while I changed into my favorite bell bottoms and a plaid top that tied in the front. After applying a little bit of makeup, I flipped through the yellow pages to see if I could find the address to the bar where Wildfire was playing. Then I stopped back at the front desk to ask the man for directions. He was glad to be of service, and I figured he didn’t get that much business. Especially not from twenty-three year old girls.

I could already hear the music coming from inside the bar as I pulled into the parking lot. But as I walked to the front door, I noticed something was off. It was not rock n’ roll I heard. This place was a honky tonk.

“Hey there, darlin’,” I heard as soon as I walked into the smoke-filled room. I had to be in the wrong place.

I looked at the cowboy and gave him a weak smile before heading for the bar as some female sang about “feelin’ single and seein’ double”.

“Excuse me,” I said to the bartender. “Is there a band playing here tonight?”

“Yes ma’am, some new rock n’ roll outfit, I believe. Wildfire. Or Firewind. Somethin’.”

I tried to hide my amusement. “Thanks.”

I ordered a beer, and as soon as the bartender set it in front of me, the sound of an electric guitar cranked up behind me. I turned around on my barstool just as Harry walked out on stage. Without a greeting, the band went straight into their first song.

I looked around me at the crowd, which wasn’t really much of one. Most of the people were gathered at circular tables, talking amongst themselves, or at the bar. I felt a sourness in my gut, and I realized I felt sorry for the band, and a little embarrassed. This wasn’t their audience. No young girls up front bouncing up and down with glee, arms raised, singing along to every word. No fists in the air, no cheers from drunk young men full of piss and adrenaline.

For a moment I wished I hadn’t come at all. This wasn’t how I wanted to see Harry. But then something caught my eye. One cowboy sitting at a table near the stage was watching the band’s every move. He nodded his head to the beat, soon singing along to the chorus when it came round again. I looked up at Harry who was giving it his all, just as he had with a room full of people. He didn’t give a shit. It was about the music. And if he could make that one lone cowboy nod along to his music, it was worth it.

Soon I started to take note of more people reacting. The girl at the bar next to me swung her leg back and forth, her boot keeping to the rhythm. A table full of people who looked around my age stopped talking and started to acknowledge what was happening on stage. By the time the second song was over, people were cheering and clapping. I smiled when Mitch played the intro to the next song and a crowd started to form at the front of the stage.

I slid off my stool then and made my way closer to the crowd. I danced with them and sang along. When the song ended, the audience whistled, cheering for more.

“Sorry…um,” Harry said into the microphone. “I know you weren’t expecting this kind of music tonight, but I appreciate it that you stayed.”

The crowd hollered again.

“This is for all you honky tonk women,” he added, and the band went into a cover of the Stones tune.

“I met a gin-soaked, bar-room queen in Memphis She tried to take me upstairs for a ride She had to heave me right across shoulder Cause I just can’t seem to drink you off my mind”

I had the hugest smile on my face. I’d never seen Wildfire do a cover before. And that was about the best choice they could have ever made. The bar went nuts, and several couples started dancing around the room behind me. One cowboy even handed Harry his hat, which he gladly put on his own head for the duration of the song.

During the last chorus, Harry and I finally made eye contact. His eyes about popped out of his head, and he almost forgot the words he was singing. Then a smile grew across his face and he gave me a thumbs up.

I’d seen Wildfire perform many times by that point. But I have to say, that night, in that tiny little po-dunk country bar in Chula Vista, ten miles from the Holiday Inn, they gave their best show ever.

I stood and watched as several people crowded around him when he stepped off the stage, giving him their praise. He took it graciously, listening to every word they had to say. After a few minutes, I decided to let him have his moment, so I returned to my spot at the bar. The girl who was sitting next to me earlier was still there, licking her lips as she watched Harry make his way closer.

“Hey,” he beamed at me when he got to the bar. “What are you doing here?”

I shrugged nonchalantly. “Just thought I’d come out. Had nothing else to do.”

“You…” he shook his head in disbelief, “Wh- are you staying here? Or…are you driving back tonight?”

“Oh, I’m staying,” I grinned. “At the Holiday Inn up the road.”

“Yeah?”

“Hi there, cowboy,” I heard next to me.

I eyed the girl on her stool with her swinging leg and red lips.

“Hello,” smiled Harry, his accent oozing and giving away that he was definitely not a cowboy.

“You’re fantastic,” she commented.

“Thank you.”

“I’m Evelyn,” she said, holding out her hand.

“I’m Harry.”

“And I’m leaving,” I announced, sliding off my stool once again.

“No, wait, what?” Harry looked at me confused.

I chuckled. “It’s cool. This is your moment, Harry. Your fans await you,” I pointed at the stage. “Looks like your band is waiting too.”

“But where are you going?” he grabbed my hand.

“To my motel room.”

I hoped the look in my eyes relayed the message I wanted them to.

“The Holiday Inn?”

I nodded before placing a quick kiss on his cheek.

“See ya,” I whispered in his ear before slowly pulling my hand from his.

I was almost to the door when I turned around, catching Evelyn trying to do some major flirting.

“Harry!”

He looked at me and smiled.

“Room 2-0-2,” I mimed the numbers with my hand.

He grinned wider and gave me a wink before I pushed open the door and climbed into my Volkswagen. My ears were still buzzing from the show, so instead of turning up the radio, I sang to myself, the Elton John song that had been in my head since I’d arrived.

“You ain’t seen nothin’ till you been In a motel, baby, like a Holiday Inn…”

My stomach was in knots. Two hours later I just about resolved that he wasn’t coming. I was an idiot. He’d probably taken a liking to Evelyn, who no doubt was much more attractive and probably had her own ranch with cows and horses. But just when I was about to doze off, I heard a knock at the door.

Just like at the apartment, I left the chain on and cracked the door open.

“Sky,” he said softly.

“Hi,” I bit my lip.

I shut the door and removed the chain, but didn’t open the door all the way yet. Instead, I inched it open slowly until only my body was in-between the crack. Harry’s eyes wandered down, a twinge of excitement on his face when he noticed my pajamas.

“Jesus,” he shook his head and leaned his forearm against the door frame.

My chest lifted underneath the thin material of my top as I took in a breath and let it out.

“Um…are you gonna let me in?” Harry asked.

I giggled nervously. “Maybe.”

Harry raised a brow. “Maybe?”

“Well…I guess you can come in. There’s just one thing.”

“What’s that?”

“There’s no sofa.”

His dimples dipped in his cheeks and his eyes danced as I backed up and let him inside. He kicked the door closed with his boot, pulling me into his arms. He kissed me passionately, his fingers in my hair, backing me into the bed.

“You were great tonight,” I whispered when he hovered over me.

“I still can’t believe you came.”

“Me neither, actually.”

“I’m glad you did.”

His soft lips confirmed his statement, making my toes curl and my heart rate quicken. His hands roamed up my sides, stopping just under my breasts, my long hair nearly covering them.

“You’re gonna kill me with these pajamas, you know,” he groaned.

“Sorry,” I teased.

His expression softened as he let his thumbs run over my nipples, causing them to poke through the material. I blinked slowly, letting out a tiny moan of pleasure.

“You’re so pretty,” he declared.

I traced his lips with my fingertip. “So are you.”

We made love in my motel bed, but it could have been a palace as far as I was concerned. He was heaven, and more than I could have ever hoped for. I was really glad I’d changed my mind and drove to Chula Vista.

As we laid wrapped in the sheets, I looked up at his beautiful face, his lips still parted as his breathing slowed.

“So you never answered my question,” I said.

“What’s that, love?”

I fingered the cross that hung from his neck, very close from tapping against my chest.

“Why do you always wear this?”

Harry looked down at it, then back up at me.

“Same as you, I guess,” he spoke softly. “I don’t wanna forget.”

I thought about what Halo had said about his friend Simon. Perhaps he didn’t want to forget him. Or maybe he didn’t want to forget where he came from, or where he belonged. Either way, I understood.

I yanked gently on the chain, bringing Harry’s face closer to mine. His eyes grinned before he captured my lips with his.

Eeek! This was probably my favorite chapter. I hope you could visualize it the way I did.

Songs mentioned:

Paul Simon - Me and Julio Down By the Schoolyard

Neil Sedaka - Bad Blood

Emmylou Harris - Feelin' Single, Seein' Double

The Rolling Stones - Honky Tonk Women

Elton John - Holiday Inn

[jamietarttsnorthernattitude]

For this week’s word-

Wales. Welsh. Dad. Mean. Bad.

Thank you thank you my friend. I’m guessing you’re looking for something in the Colin’s Bad Dad category but surprisingly, I only had Wales once! And not in said fic, sorry. Instead please enjoy this snippet from not to me, not if it’s you:

The problem was that half the Greyhounds were scattered across the globe, taking advantage of the remainder of their International Break. Colin, Dani and Zoreaux had gone to Wales, Mexico and Canada, respectfully, after they losing in the group stage of the World Cup. Bumbercatch had followed to Switzerland after their loss the week before. At least Roy assumed he was in Switzerland. With Bumbercatch, you were never quite sure, and Roy knew better than to ask.

I did find Welsh(man) in the story though!

Maybe he should apologise for his play in the match, too, which had no doubt suffered from the guilt the Welshman felt as soon as the words left his lips on the bus. The guilt that had wrapped around Colin’s spine since then, growing like a tumour. Just as Colin decides to change seats and apologise to his teammate, Dani deposits himself in the empty seat next to Jamie.

LOTS of Dads, but I offer you a snippet you basically wrote from all you can take with you is that which you’ve given away aka Roy Kent’s A Wonderful Life from after Roy spots Jamie for the first time:

“There he is over there,” Clarence says, pointing.

And Roy’s immediate thought is denial. There’s no fucking way that’s Jamie Tartt. The man looks a decade older than his 26 years. He’s moving stiffly, more like Roy did in the twilight of his career than the spry footballer Roy watched perform a joyful roundoff in Amsterdam less than a year before. There are bags under his eyes, and to Roy’s great concern, Jamie’s hair looks lacklustre, drab, and unconditioned. It’s not even styled. Even from a distance, Roy can see those same grey eyes that practically twinkled in Roy’s presence are dull and unfocused. All of his sunshine, all of his inherent Jamie-ness, is gone, snuffed out by some invisible force.

“That can’t be him,” Roy whispers in disbelief. “God the kid looks so sad.”

“Ah, but it is. In a world where you never existed, Jamie Tartt has no constant presence of Roy Kent on his wall to guide him, to inspire him, to give him hope. Without Roy Kent as Captain, Jamie declined a transfer to Richmond and instead ended up at Burnley FC.”

Only a short car ride from Manchester, Roy realises with dread. Only a short ride from his Dad. Maybe it wasn’t such an invisible force that stole Jamie’s light after all.

Back to Colin for mean:

Jamie resembled a kicked puppy after Colin’s comment. Calling someone a dog was a term that Colin thought received a bad rap unfairly. Dogs were loyal, friendly and fucking adorable. Jamie might not be the fittest on the team, in Colin’s opinion, but the grown-out walnut mist and the smile Jamie wears more often than not lately, certainly qualify under the adorable category. And the only time Jamie’s not friendly recently is if he’s given the prick signal. Okay, he could still be a prick, but it was no longer in a mean-spirted way, more in a funny, sarcastic way.

And bad:

“It’s not like he’s ever laid a hand on me. I’ve never been afraid of him. Sometimes, I’d just rather not talk to him. Like now.”

“Colin, how does the stuff he says make you feel? I know you say it’s not a big deal. But does it make you feel good when he acts like that to you?”

“Well, no,” Colin says, and Jamie stares at him expectantly. “I guess if it makes me feel bad, but Dads can just be tough on their kids.”

“You think Ted’s like that to his son?” Jamie raises an eyebrow. “Come on, you saw Ola with Sam, practically thinks sunshine comes out Sam’s arse.”

“Sometimes I think sunshine comes out of Sam’s arse,” Colin counters.

[zot3-flopped]

Louis has to talk a big game about himself and his songwriting abilities because he knows the art doesn't speak for itself. Real artists like Harry don't have to constantly repeat “as an artist“ when they speak or give their opinion on something. It's like those people who describe themselves as “honest“ all of the time. If you're really that honest, why do you feel like you need to keep reminding us?

I think Louis knows deep down that he can't sing and that he doesn't have that “star quality“. That's why he keeps focusing on his knack for honest lyrics. That's why he keeps reminding us that he was the one behind the songwriting for 1D's biggest hits (even though he likely only added a few lyrics here and there). I mean, you can delude yourself all you want, but if the whole industry and general public keeps on commenting that you can't sing and that you act like an asshole, then deep down you're going to know it's true.

There are minor changes he could make, but he doesn't think he owes his fans anything. He talks about how he wants to just be himself and for people to accept him for that. Well, fine, dude, but your “self“ is rude, pompous, and worst of all lazy. And he knows he's lazy too. He will never even bother to dress in a way that his fans like. He just throws on a tank top and sweats for thousands of paying fans just so he can be comfortable. In general, he values his own comfort over his popularity, which will be his downfall.

He could have gotten singing lessons. His voice would've never been as liked as Harry's because it's not deep, but he could've at least had an okay voice. Instead, it's like listening to a screeching pre-pubescent child.

He could have put on a fake persona like some artists do, or even just stepped away from social media completely and become “mysterious“ like his ex friend Zayn. That would've been a smart idea since he can't help but not keep his mouth shut and just pisses everyone off and curses at them.

He could have changed his style, even if it's not what he actually likes. He could have hired a stylist who will style him like a popstar and actually try to make him look attractive (as much as they can...). A large part of popstardom is about looking attractive whether he likes that or not.

He could have stuck to making EDM music since those songs gained more popularity than his Oasis copycat music does now. If popularity isn't what he's after, then whatever. Fine. He doesn't have to do anything I listed, but he doesn't get to complain about getting no radio play or not charting.

I mean, I don't even know if he could be considered an indie artist. He's just got a fanbase who like him because they were fans of him in 1D. Even indie artists get played on the radio once in a while, or their song trends on tiktok. At least popular indie artists like Chappell Roan or Troye Sivan. Louis doesn't keep getting new fans. He's like a throwback act. Most of his fans have been bere since 1D and he's not gaining any new listeners on spotify. There's no opportunity for growth because he doesn't try to make himself appealing in any way.

I just think he's making music as an excuse to tour and party, like you mentioned before. There's no other explanation for why an artist wouldn't TRY. He knows he has a dedicated fanbase and that's all he ever caters to. He knows they'll stick around through every “fuck you“ he throws their way, as his clothing choice, lack of attempt to remember song lyrics he supposedly wrote, lack of attempt to preserve his voice let alone train it to be halfway decent, and lack of stage presence all demonstrate.

He's truly just a rich, entitled brat paying for his own career so he can look like he has a modicum of success and so he can party and do drugs on his fans' dime, while he gives them nothing in return.

Brilliant summary of Floplinson's many failings! 👏👏👏

[alittlefrenchtree]

Some haters say TZP can't act but do they want to see an example of an actor bombing a character and having iffy chemistry with their co-star? Harry Styles in Don't Worry Darling. And I really like Harry; he excelled in My Policeman and Dunkirk, so I don't know what the hell happened in the Don't Worry Darling set, but every scene he had with Florence Pugh, you could see how she was the one leading and there was no equal footing. As in, Florence was relying on herself to carry all those scenes of them together instead of being a 2-way situation or Harry playing off of Florence and vice versa. With RWRB, there was NEVER a moment when Taylor and Nick were not bouncing off each other's chemistry or where the scene lacked Taylor's presence, if that makes sense. When Taylor is on screen, I never felt like he was disappearing into the background or not there. That's how I know. And this comes from someone who watched RWRB completely unbiased, with no idea of the plot, the book and who Taylor or Nick were at the time.

I would usually not share an ask that starts with "haters say" even if it’s to tell how wrong they are because I’m not a big fan of bringing any kind of spotlight to any kind of hate but I actually like the conversation you’re starting here (or you’ve bravely started days ago in my inbox) so I’m going to make an exception.

I like two things about what you said: one, how it shows how different perception of a performance can be from one person to another and two, how decisive a co-star can be in a performance.

I actually not agree with you on DWD but we need a bit of context. I’m not really a fan of Harry. I don’t hate the guy, I think Sign of the Times is an absolute masterpiece and I’m aware of his existence but I haven’t any particular feelings about him. I’ve seen all the three movies and my opinion of his three performances are actually the same. He was good enough not to noticeable. In my opinion while watching a movie, we mostly notice performances falling in the extremes - very good or very bad. All the in middle performances are ok as long as they blend into the rest of the movie. And Harry was always that for me. I don’t remember Dunkirk that much but I have vivid memories of My Policeman and DWD so yeah. What needs more context is how he was good enough opposite to who. I haven't seen David Dawson in anything else but he stole my heart with this performance and it so blatantly obviously that he’s an amazing actor. Florence Pugh is publicly among the most talented actress (and actor)s of her generation so of course she shined the brightest in this movie. So yeah, even if, like you said, it's normal that there is no equal footing, to be even just "good enough" opposite David Dawson and Florence Pugh when you’re not an actor yourself is already a great performance for me. And when I say when "when you’re not an actor" it’s not to put people in boxes and saying actors shouldn’t sing and singers shouldn’t act. But in the case of Harry, being on stage, singing and performing, is very obviously his fucking thing. He’s stellar at it at that’s his main job. So being even half-good as anything else is already remarkable. It reminds me of Lady Gaga actually. While watching A Star is Born, I was like *yeah, she’s a good actress* right until the moment she starts to sing and perform and my brain corrected itself by thinking *she makes a good actress but she’s actually this, whatever this is. It’s the thing she was born to do*. A switch I never had in House of Gucci, where she was just a good actress. But once again, I’m going off topic again :).

While writing, I’m actually trying to understand why Harry in DWD didn’t work for you. I’m not saying I’m right and you’re wrong, I’m just trying to look at things from your perspective. Maybe I would need another watch to get it (but I probably won’t do it so I’ll never know). But knowing all the drama that has surrounded the shooting of that movie, maybe you’re the one closest to an actual form of truth. If such things exist about art and acting performances. (it doesn't)

Which brings us to Taylor and Nick. I had never thought about it like that but you make a lot of sense. Nowhere in the movie feels like one outshine the other. Which added to the efficience of the movie and was probably helped by their off screen chemistry. And I’ve also watched it unbiased and with the same feeling at the end so i'm going to take the opportunity to say we're absolutely right 🤝😁😁😁

Thank you for sharing your thoughts with me (and all of us) 💜

[tellthemeerkatsitsfine]

Nick Helm’s a bit like Rhys James, in that any time I’m not actually looking at him I think of him vaguely as one in a sea of comedians who can be rather amusing on a TV panel show sometimes but he’s nothing special. And then every time I actually watch him, I remember, oh right, he’s fucking hilarious. That is the only thing Nick Helm has in common with Rhys James.

I watched the NextUp stream of his 2023 Edinburgh show, and God, that was so much fun. So much fun. The energy. So much energy. Where does he find the energy? …I just looked up his age, because to be honest I though it would be around 50, and I’ve learned it’s 42. But somehow, the wildly high levels of energy he puts out there make him seem older than he actually is. I think because what happens is he uses wildly high levels of energy, this tires him out, so he’s always out of breath and looks like he’s on the verge of keeling over, and therefore, I thought he was older than he actually is. 42’s not that old. Lots of people could keep this up at 42. But it’s possible that Nick Helm has aged himself beyond his years by so much time doing this shit.

He’s older than he used to be, I’ll say that. In that Edinburgh stream from last week, he looked noticeably older than in his Catsdown Dictionary Corner spots from the mid-2010s. But weirdly, given his comedy style, I think that actually helps. Because he hasn’t slowed down. He just looks like maintaining the energy levels is harder for him than it used to be, and making it look like everything he’s doing is really hard for him is part of his schtick. A schtick that works even better now that he does have grey in hair, and his voice is gone a bit, and he’s out of breath after every song. I realize this is coming off as an incredibly backhanded compliment, “I love the way Nick Helm seems old and fading now.” But honestly, I really do love it! He’s always been great fun, but I think I like this version of him best. Because let’s be honest – he was never a great singer. A beautiful singing voice wasn’t the point. The point was that he was a bit raspy because he kept going comically over the top to try to sing too intensely. Well, at this point, he starts getting the raspiness in his voice earlier than he used to, I think. And it works.

This show was for the tenth anniversary of his album Hot ‘n’ Heavy, which came out in 2013. It’s not a stand-up comedy show, it’s a concert. He plays every song off the album, in order. He does some talking between the songs, and does establish a comedy bit that runs through the whole show, where he berates the audience for not being good enough. He builds it up and then pays it off with enough skill to remind you that he is a comedian, but this isn’t a musical comedy show. It’s a music concert but the songs are funny. And it’s great. It feels like how Nick Helm is meant to be. He’s up there with a full band (a band that includes, among other people, comedians Rob Deering and Huge Davies), and concert-style lights and shit, running around the stage like a rockstar, shout-singing at the audience for an hour and a half.

I think this will reappear on NextUp when they catch up in September, if anyone wants to watch it. You can also buy the album on Bandcamp, though to be honest, seeing Nick Helm’s wild stage presence really adds stuff to it that you don’t get in an audio-only album. It’s amazingly funny to hear his songs delivered while he physically regards his audience with the intensity of a man challenging them to a fight, throwing everything at them that he possibly can, until his voice goes hoarse and he’s literally gasping for breath.

I’d say this song summarizes Nick Helm pretty well. If you like this, then check out more of his stuff. If you don’t, then you will not like anything else he’s ever done. I think it's excellent.