#crowd sourced questions

[purplbear]

This looks like knitting machine tuck stitch. This blog has a nice photo of the front and back of tuck stitch done on a knitting machine. And almost all sweaters sold in stores are done on knitting machines.

But you can get the tuck stitch by hand!

This blog discusses how tuck stitch the family name in which brioche stitches are a part. Like how foxes, wolves and dogs are all part of the candidae family. There is a tuck stitch family.

Doing a little digging there’s many of easy brioche tuck stitches, and the half brioche stitch looks pretty close to your sample and maybe would have a similar feel?

to the knitters of tumblr...

I got a rly cool sweater (hand-me-down from a friend, store bought) and I really love the texture.

I was wondering if any of you might know how to achieve it what it's called?

i don't really knit but I'm interested to know how it's made

this is the front

and this is the back.

it's pretty thick, as if it's two layers of knitwear stuck together.

if anyone has a name of the texture so I can look it up or even a tutorial, I'd be very grateful if you told me! ^^

[sunnyupsidedown]

What is PSU's hand sign?

You know how some colleges have hand signs that people can throw up to show affiliation? Like, USC's is the V for Victory? What do we think the PSU Foxes' sign would be? I'm leaning towards something like NC State's, but what are everyone's thoughts?

I looked into Clemson and it doesn't seem like they have one. Some of the newer students seem to be trying to get a tiger claw popular similar to Baylor's bear claw but it's apparently controversial.

Below are some more examples of different signs!

[wundrousarts]

I was going to save this until I reread Hollowpox, but that last ask reminded me that I should share this here, so I present:

Musings on Maud: Why is she considered so powerful, how does this affect her dynamic with Squall, and why is he so scared of her?

(Bonus: How can I connect it to Silverborn?)

Two disclaimers: I haven't reread Hollowpox in ages, so if there's anything that could prove or disprove stuff in this post, send it my way. Honestly send any discussion my way. I love discussing theories. Second, this was originally a reply to a Reddit comment on a post, to which you can find here. The comment discussed Maud being a signatory for a Squall safeguard, so since this comment is copied verbatim, it references that.

---

If it’s not outright stated, it’s at least heavily implied that Squall helped create/build up the Republic. It’s only existed for about 90 years, and Squall has been exiled for about 100. He mentions in Hollowpox how he knows that Maud’s plan is to take over Nevermoor/The Free State, because the Republic took over the other states in the realm and he “helped them do it.” However, unless Maud is immortal and also 100 years old, she is not the one who started the Republic from the side of the Republic. Also, no clue how long it’s been around, but Squall Industries has likely been around for awhile as well (this is how he gets his connections and power in the Republic), with Squall just constantly grandfathering himself in with the vampire trick or something.

Interestingly, Squall says two things in this scene (Chapter 34 of Hollowpox) that stick out to me:

“I made the so-called Hollowpox,” he raised his voice above hers, “because I was asked to. Because I was compensated handsomely for it. And because when the most powerful person in the realm asks for a favour, even I don’t refuse.

And

“But you’re a Wundersmith.” Morrigan was utterly baffled. “Why can’t you just stop them if they’re such a problem? I don’t understand!” “Do you THINK I HAVEN’T—“ Squall shouted, then cut himself off abruptly.

He also mentions how the Hollowpox was initially meant for the Republic, but Maud snuck in an infected otter across the border into Nevermoor— “That was never part of our deal.”

There’s definitely a business relationship between the two of them of likely consistent deals, one favor for another, quid pro quo. However, we also see that Squall can’t really go against her, something he seems to have tried before. Two chapters before this scene (Chapter 32), has this moment:

“Yes, shush. Maud said the Wintersea Party might help if there was a squid crow po.” “Quid pro quo?” “Right, one of those. She said they won’t do something for nothing, but if we could convince Prime Minister Steed to meet with her, just to have a conversation, then she would try to convince her party to share their cure.”

While it could be easily explained as part of her job, Maud seems to get most of her power and do things by extracting deals from other people. Maybe she’s knackless, or maybe she has some sort of connection to Puppeteering or a knack related to that. Not Mesmerism, but something that allows her to be persuasive, manipulative, convince people of things, and get them to do what she wants. A sort of parallel or companion to Squall’s connection with Puppeteering that we see in Wundersmith.

It’s interesting that when we first meet Maud, there is this exchange directly after she tells Mog that the Wintersea Republic would only agree to help the Free State if there was some sort of deal:

“But they’re your party,” Morrigan pointed out. “Aren’t you the one with the power? Maud stiffened slightly and cast her a wary, calculating look.

And then soon later she says this:

“Even if I could persuade my party to do the right thing – and I’m not saying I won’t try – there’s no guarantee Steed and his government would come to the table.”

The whole exchange seems very manipulative, like, “oh, I’d LOVE to talk and get this figured out, but I can’t…” There’s a big focus on conversation. Maud is wary when Mog mentions power— she thinks she means a magical power, something secret that gives her an advantage, when really she just means politically— so I wonder if she was worried for a moment that Mog realized she had some sort of coercive power.

I wonder what exactly her power is that makes Squall so scared of her, and why it possibly makes it so that he can’t fight make and overthrow her. Aside from their business relationship, which allows Squall access to Wunder and being a Wundersmith, there’s this other layer as well.

As for safeguard: I don’t know if Maud would be a signatory for a Squall safeguard, as that seems to just be for Wunsoc students, but I think that whatever their deal is and whatever her power is allows her to keep him in check. Jess said that we will learn more about safeguards in Silverborn, and I think it would be interesting if Mog learns more about them from Squall instead of Jupiter— and maybe it does end up being similar to whatever he has going on with Maud, who knows! I don’t really have any safeguard theories myself, but I will keep an eye out for what you add to your comment.

A Silverborn “silver” side note: A “silver tongue” means that someone is persuasive when they speak….. perhaps this idea, theme, power, etc. will be expanded upon in the future 🤔

[felassan]

David Gaider: "If I really dig into my empathy, I can kinda see the thinking here. Like, let's say you don't actually know much about games. You're in a big office with a bunch of other execs who also don't know much about games. What are they all saying? "Live games do big numbers!" "Action games are hot!" Your natural response? "We should make more action games, and all our games should have live service!" Cha-ching, right? Then some uppity devs spoil your buzz by saying "that doesn't apply equally to all games" or "we have an established IP with an audience that has certain expectations". You frown. You go look at their sales. Good, sure, but not as spectacular as live service and action games! Profit's great, but what's the point if you're not #1 in the charts? If you're not making headlines? If the devs can't make it work, this is THEIR failure. This, after all, is the future of gaming! Eventually, you're going to ask yourself why we (the company) even bother with those other games. Like single player games. It's a question you've asked aloud before. The fans bristle, but you're not here to supply every audience what they want. You're here to make money and increase share value. Maybe I'm being unkind. There are certainly all sorts of lessons a company could learn from a game like Veilguard (I still haven't played it, so I'm going off what other people have said), but "maybe it should have been live service" being the takeaway seems a bit short-sighted and self-serving. Not that there's any shortage of that, when it comes to deciding why a game doesn't do well. For the anti-woke crowd, for instance, there are woke games that do well and woke games that do poorly and only the ones that did poorly did so *because* they were woke. Says more about them than the game. My advice to EA (not that they care): you have an IP that a lot of people love. Deeply. At its height, it sold well enough to make you happy, right? Look at what it did best at the point where it sold the most. Follow Larian's lead and double down on that. The audience is still there. And waiting. ❤️" [source thread]

--

User: "Maybe they can sell the IP to Larian. Or someone else who would treat it respectfully." David Gaider: "I suspect Larian is, smartly, done with working on third-party IP. You do all that work, and the IP overlords do little more than dictate the minutiae and make your life difficult and then you have to cut them a huge slice of the proceeds too? Not a lot of studios are going to bite THAT hook. [source] I know you said SELL the IP, but there's no way EA will relinquish its hold on an IP that could potentially do big numbers. In their ideal world, a studio takes it on, does all the work, and they rake in the cash. Giving up that kind of potential would require BIG money... and who would buy it?" [source]

[heritageposts]

Harris has been a staunch supporter of Israel for years. In 2017 she addressed the American Israel Public Affairs Committee’s (AIPAC) annual conference and reminded attendees that the first resolution she co-sponsored as a senator was aimed at combating “anti-Israel bias” at the United Nations. “Let me be clear about what I believe. I stand with Israel because of our shared values, which are so fundamental to the founding of both our nations,” she told the crowd. In 2018 she gave an off-the-record speech to the organization, but eventually released her comments. In that speech she claimed that she raised money for the Jewish National Fund as a Girl Scout. “Having grown up in the Bay area, I fondly remember those Jewish National Fund boxes that we would use to collect donations to plant trees for Israel,” she told the audience. “Years later, when I visited Israel for the first time, I saw the fruits of that effort and the Israeli ingenuity that has truly made a desert bloom.”

For those unfamiliar with the Jewish National Fund (JNF), they're a Zionist organization that has been instrumental in the ethnic cleansing of Palestine.

See Stop the JNF for more information on their history, the way they operate, and their decades-long campaign of greenwashing (i.e. destroying native plants, crops, and agriculture under the banner of 'making the desert bloom').

Continuing, the Mondoweiss article goes:

“The vast majority of people understand the importance of the State of Israel,” she added later. “Both in terms of its history and its present in terms of being a source of inspiration on so many issues, which I hope we will talk about, and also what it means in terms of the values of the United States and those values that are shared values with Israel, and the importance of fighting to make sure that we protect and respect a friend, one of the best friends we could possibly have.” While running for President in 2019, Harris was praised by the lobbying group Democratic Majority for Israel (DMFI) for running to the right of Obama on the Iran deal. On the campaign trail Harris told Kat Wellman, a voter affiliated with DMFI, that she would reenter the agreement but “strengthen it” by “extending the sunset provisions, including ballistic missile testing, and also increasing oversight.” “I was very impressed with her. I thought she gave an excellent speech, she gave a very detailed, responsive answer to my question,” Wellman told a local paper after the exchange. “I’m pro-Israel, so I was I was very concerned and all about making sure we limit nuclear missiles in any country that could possibly destroy us all. I thought her answer was very good.” Harris has condemned the BDS movement and claimed that is “based on the mistaken assumption that Israel is solely to blame for the Israeli-Palestinian conflict.” However, she voted against an anti-BDS bill in 2019 citing First Amendment concerns.

For the full article, which includes Kamala's response to Israel post Al-Aqsa Flood, see Mondoweiss (July 22, 2024)

[aquarius-johnny]

“we’re just friends, right?”

au: friends to lovers

warnings: bestfriend! johnny, suggestive, fluff, mutual pining, reader and johnny are down bad for each other

summary: friends don’t really look at each other the way you two do, right?

your friendship with johnny confuses everyone.

they notice the way johnny’s hand lingers a little too long on your body after finding any excuse to touch you, the way he endearingly strokes your hair out of comfort — mostly for his than for yours, and the way his eyes automatically search for you in a sea of people as if you’re his anchor that’s keeping him grounded.

it never goes unnoticed how you steal glances when you think no one is looking, how you always find an excuse to compare your small hands to his just so you can hold it for a moment, how you always forget to bring a jacket every time it’s cold out so johnny has yet another reason to let you borrow his.

or how you both always opt to share one drink, always using the excuse that you won’t be able to finish one on your own. how you both casually grab each others hand in a crowd of people so you both don’t lose each other. how neither of you accept the advances someone makes towards you two, always telling potential suitors that you’re already seeing someone — something one of you did first and now both of you do it.

it doesn’t matter how many times your friends have wondered or how many times strangers have asked, your answer to their question — are you two dating? — is always no, he’s just a friend. but they know friends don’t look at each other the way you two do. it’s always a will they or won’t they situation that secretly has your friends either rooting for both of you or are annoyed with the situation as a whole. either way, they’re hooked.

with enough nagging from your friends and family, you begin to question the authenticity of your friendship with your best friend. so does johnny. but neither of you do anything about it.

it’s not a foreign idea — for you two, at least — to have co-ed sleepovers, much to the dismay from both families. it’s harmless. nothing more happens than just sleeping and you swear up and down that absolutely nothing happens between the two of you in bed.

johnny keeps his hands to himself — for the most part. aside from the occasional arm slinging over your abdomen or the casual spooning with his arm over your waist when you wake up. but you’re both unconscious when it happens, so it isn’t his fault, right?

you on the other hand, can’t say you’re as disciplined as your best friend. everything you do always comes in the form of accidents — accidentally moving your hips against him when he’s spooning, you swear you’re just adjusting your position; accidentally grazing his morning wood with your hand when you get out of bed to use the bathroom, you’re half asleep and groggy so you have no idea what your body parts are up to until you get at least a cup of coffee in your system; accidentally forgetting to pack some pajama shorts in your overnight bag so you’re forced to sleep in a shirt and underwear during the night, always telling yourself you won’t forget to pack a pair next time.

johnny doesn’t bring it up, though. you’re not sure if he knows it’s happening or if he enjoys waking up to it as much as you do. so it just continues to happen with unspoken words between you two.

until now.

staring at the ceiling above you as you lay in johnny’s bed, you softly let out his name and wait for him to respond.

he gives you a low hum.

“i have something on my mind.” sitting up, you shift your body to look at him. you watch his eyes flutter open before he sees you looking down.

sitting up, he languidly shifts his body weight to rest on the palm of his hands that are placed slightly behind him. “what’s wrong?” he rasps, one hand extending towards his nightstand to turn on a lamp.

“no, wait, don’t turn it on yet,” you quickly say, halting his movements.

the only light source gleams from his bedroom window, reflecting the busy city’s skyline.

retracting his hand, you see his brows knit together in confusion. “what’s going on?” he asks again, this time placing a hand on your lower back after adjusting his sitting position to push himself further up the bed with his back pressed against the pillows that line his headboard.

“i’ve been wanting to do something for a long time now,” a shaky exhale leaving your lips. “and i need you to stay still for me.”

“okay,” he lets out quietly, feeling the tension building between the two of you.

leaning into him slowly, your hand gently cups his jaw, heart thumping hard against your chest, and your lips begin to lightly tremble.

softly pressing your lips against his, johnny’s body tenses in surprise before he quickly relaxes and captures your bottom lip between his, moving his lips in sync with yours.

you sit there for a moment, basking in the reality that you’re kissing your best friend — kissing him with passion, lust, and sexual frustration entwined with every single movement of your lips.

his hands grip your waist, naturally pulling your body into his. you allow it to happen, your body tightly against his chest. he lifts his chin to keep his lips attached to yours as you’re nearly hovering over him before you position yourself on his lap to cradle him.

as you pull away, his lips chase yours — needing to feel them on his again.

“no, don’t stop, please,” he begs quietly right before his hands cup the sides of your neck, holding you in place as he kisses you.

butterflies swarm your stomach, your lips matching his movements.

his arms wrap around you, pulling your body into his, desperate to keep you close as if he fears this is all a dream he’s about to wake up from.

you slowly pull away from him, again, pressing your forehead against his. your lips are hovering over each other, breathing in each other’s air.

“was it okay that i did that?” you softly ask.

“it’s more than okay.” a smile pulling from the corners of his mouth. “i’m glad you did.”

a sigh of relief leaves you before it quickly disappears, nerves taking over once again. “are we still just friends?” you nervously ask him, pulling back to create some distance between the two of you.

he flickers between your eyes, moving a strand of fallen hair away from your face. he softly laughs. “was i really just a friend to begin with?”

[amalasdraws]

https://www.tumblr.com/bigmammallama5/732632789726478336?source=share do you have any tips on how to detect ai and deepfakes?

Good question and I'm gonna be honest, it's not always easy and it will only get harder and harder. I'm just an artist who has spent their personal time to dive into this topic and study images. I'm still learning and there is a lot I don't know. But let me show what I know. This will be long, but I will make a summary at the end! So far, even with ai having become better and better there are still almost always some things wrong with an image, and they all have a very specific look to them. So let me try to show you some and point out some of them.

As we all know, a biggest struggle ai had were hands. And even though here and there we still see messed up hands, I say "had", because the hands is actual a good example on how ai is improving and will only get better. Still, looking at pictures that show more hands is always worth it, because somewhere in the back there will be most likely at least one messed up hand.

Another issue a lot of ai still has is hair though!

It's very obvious still in many ai "drawings" and in those otherwise well rendered portraits. Hair starts to blend with the ears a lot, or with the clothes.

There is also often this very odd look between something too sharp and way too blurry

There is often a very specific texture to the hair. I actually do not know the artistic or specific name for it. I can only describe it as this weird sharp feeling that makes it look oddly pixely, and then you have areas where it's very blurry. And the kind of loops and almost flame like looking hair we see in the last pic out of the three here is also something very common with ai.

As an artist I know we make mistakes too! The way I draw hair is flawed too! But it's not only that it's flawed here, but it's following always the same pattern and falls into the same issues over and over again, no matter who is "creating" the image. Those flame like loops are a common one, next to the odd blends and weird sharp and blurry textures.

But ai is getting better, and we not only have "art" and something that tries to be a drawing/painting, but photos too.

A lot of those "photos" have a very specific texture and look to them! Again, it's not always the mistakes, but the very specific optic too. A lot of the images are oddly smooth, too rendered, with always blurry backgrounds. And when you look closer at the background you will see the mistakes! The crowd behind Jesus is a hot mess once you look closer. Bob Marley's hair has the same issue than I described before. Lincoln is surrounded by people with messed up hands and don't even get me started on the faces behind Caesar.

So a lot of ai images look alright on a first and quick glance, but as more time you spend with them, as more mistakes you will notice. The wehre is Waldo of ai horror.

And those "photos" shared here are still very obvious. Not just the mistakes and messed up details but the very specific aesthetic too.

Those images get better and better and as less details you have, as less mistakes you have!

With photos like this it becomes harder and harder. There are not many details and no hands. Not many mistakes can be made. Also the very obvious plastic looking smoothness isn't so much here anymore. It kinda still is...but differently. And always the blurry background!! Sometimes the hair is still a giveaway. Collars and clothe straps are also often still a giveaway upon close look. As is jewelry. Earrings will be different and necklaces often don't go all the way around, just end, or blend with the hair or clothes.

Often details on jewelry is also blurry and not shown properly. This is a trick with many details. With jewelry, batches, hair, ears, text. So it's often blurred out and not shown properly because ai doesn't know what to really show here.

It's often really just the small details and when we scroll down quickly we will miss them. Like the wedding ring on the middle finger, the pens on top of a closed pocket, the batches that are always blurry, messed up faces that blend with a blurry background.

And sometimes it's so subtle that I could only really tell that right is the ai image in comparison to the real photo on the left. The real photo shows hands clearly and even when things are blurred out it doesn't feel that it's done to hide things. The ai image on the right hides the hands. There is also a very dead look in the eyes :D

And here I could only tell because the text in the back doesn't make sense. Even blurred out we should be able to make out something here

And after seeing a lot of ai images I recognize the kind of blurred out bg in combination with a very smooth and well rendered foreground/characters.

And here the only giveaway is a closer look at the backgrounds as well

To summarize it:

Ai and fake news rely on a fast living world. We are being bombarded with tons of information and messages daily and we scroll past quickly. But the best tool, for now, in detecting ai is taking our time! Those images get better and better but so far there are still always some things off!! Especially in the background!

Hair. Often weirdly smoothed out and oddly sharp at the same time

Hair often blends with the ears or the clothes

Details are blurred out.

Jewelry doesn't match (example earrings). Details on metal often blurred out and never shown. Necklaces blend with hair or the clothes, and don't go around the neck.

Background is always blurred out.

In this blurred mess there are often hidden very messed up faces and/or hands.

A very specific smooth and yet too sharp/too rendered aesthetic combines with an always blurry bg.

Text, especialyl in the background, is not legible and doesn't make sense.

Backgrounds are often (so far) the dead giveaway. Somewhere in the back things become muddled and messed up. This shows also very well in ai decor/architecture. There will be odd lines that don't align or align too well. Curtain poles that end in the furniture, a plant that is behind a lamp suddenly having leaves in front of the lamp. As longer you look as more you will notice.

Conclusion:

Take your time with images! Sit with them! Especially when it's framed as important and political news. Is it ai and propaganda, or did it really happen? Don't fall for the quick buzz and outrage! Some things are obvious right away but with others you have to take your time. And it's time you have! If you are still unsure if a pic is real or not, do some research on top. Image reverse search. Can you find it anywhere else? Are other news outlets sharing it? Does the image/message make sense? For example there is now a deepfake of Bella Hadid voicing support for Israel. Ask yourself, does this make sense? If it feels out of line compared to previous behavior, do some research! Media literacy is not just as being able to recognize a fake or real right away, but being able to do research. To question things! Don't just take every post online for face value. Even when shared by a mutual you trust. They might have been tricked!

There are so many information online and it's great to have access to so information, but it's also difficult to wade through all of it. Media and truth are a weapon and it's being twisted and bend used to manipulate. Always has! But ai and so many people being able to post and share things, it becomes bigger and bigger and more dangerous. So don't just take everything that is handed to you and share it further no questions asked. Media literacy and being able to think for ourselves and do the research is important!! And as research becomes harder and harder, as sources are being messed up with ai and other fake news, it's even more important to sit with the images and study them. See the flaws, the mistakes. Compare it to other news and images.

This got long, and I started to ramble at the end. Sorry But I hope this helped

[lokidjarin-7567]

I Hate It Here

Kang Dae-ho x Reader After joining a mysterious game of life and death, you find solace in the company of another player, one so vibrant and optimistic it draws your mind from the horrors that await you. fem!reader, fluff, usual content warnings for Squid Game, guns, language, death etc, obvious spoilers for Squid Game season 2, mostly edited, not perfectly accurate to the episodes but close enough 5k words Part 2 of this fic is now up! Thank you for all of the love so far and I will be writing more Squid Game fics about other characters too so keep an eye out ;) TTPD Contents | General Masterlist | AO3

You hadn’t even considered that the weird guy who started shouting before the first game started would be telling the truth. That you could actually die here for money, or for entertainment, or for whatever the twisted fuckers who brought you here wanted. You figured he was just vying for attention, or trying to scare you all into backing out. Then you heard a gunshot.

After that moment, you followed every piece of advice he shouted out, satisfied he knew something you didn’t. You made it over the finish line, shocked and traumatised, thanks only to hiding behind someone a lot taller than you. You immediately collapsed on the dirt panting with exhaustion, a few tears falling from your eyes. What had you gotten yourself into?

You were relieved when Player 456 called for a vote to end the games, and even more relieved at the realisation that his number was only a little after your own. He was called to vote first, red X marking his jersey, and you followed suit just after him, lucky as Player 452 that you could get your voting over and done with quickly. He smiled at you, bowing his head slightly in acknowledgment, and you returned the favour, moving to stand beside him. You quietly celebrated with him when a player chose your side, and you watched as he tried to talk to the remaining people, explaining how he’d played before. Then you consoled him when it didn’t work. It came down to the last vote, the stress almost too much to bear, but as Player 001 was adorned in blue light from his selection, you realised you were stuck here, and you were close to crying again.

Player 456 automatically took you under his wing. There seemed to be another player that he knew, so you sat with them as you ate the provided food, dejected at the outcome, but grateful to at least have found some allies. You were trying to ask a few subtle questions about the game, but other players kept approaching your group. You shrunk back a little, avoiding the attention that came with being around the previous winner of the games, listening as people spoke of their admiration for him, and grilled him for information as to what was happening next.

You hadn’t noticed at first - a voice speaking from behind you - and honestly, you didn’t want to turn around, still feeling shy and awkward. Eventually, though, the crowd dissipated, and the source of the voice jumped down from one of the bunks. He was tall and lean, shoulder length hair pulled into a half-up half-down style, strays falling around his temples and framing his face. His smile was infectious, carrying from his lips to his eyes, which were rich brown in colour and full of joy and enthusiasm. You were transfixed by him as he introduced himself as Kang Dae-ho, quickly bonding with the man Player 456 knew thanks to their shared military history. He was the antithesis of you - so outgoing, so enthusiastic, so full of optimism. Even down to the blue circle that adorned his uniform; on most, it was a bad look, voting to continue at the risk of others, but on him, it seemed courageous.

His chattiness was as contagious as his smile, and as he joined your group to eat, you found yourself immersed in conversation with him: about the game, about the other players, about the members of your little makeshift crew. Even watching on and cheering together as Player 001 took down a few bullies in front of everyone. He was comfortable to be around. A welcome distraction that helped you forget where you were, or what you might have to do as the days passed.

And it was working. Until, after a while, the conversation lulled momentarily, and you couldn’t stop your mind from drifting to darker places. What the game might be. What it would involve. If it would ever really get as brutal as Gi-hun said it might…

You felt a gentle nudge on your arm, snapping you out of your spell at the sound of your name falling from Dae-ho’s lips.

“You good?” He muttered quietly, a hint of concern on his face. You had been talking for a few hours now, and you had done everything in your power to keep up your positive front, to pretend you were happy to be here but it was fading fast.

“Yeah, I’m just…”

“Scared?” A sigh of relief fell from your lips.

“Yeah.” He smiled softly, glancing around to see where the others were, before leaning in closer.

“Me too, honestly. Just trying not to show it…” There was a sincerity in his voice, a vulnerability that you could tell wasn’t fake. He wasn’t just saying it to make you feel better.

“Dae-ho…” you muttered, gesturing to the blue badge that signified his vote, “why did you choose to stay?” He shrugged, glancing back at the crowd of people who were starting to prepare for lights out.

“I need the money, and honestly, when I voted, I didn’t know anyone here. I figured it’s not like I’m personally killing anyone. No harm no foul, right? It’s just the way a soldier thinks, I guess. You don’t know who you’re shooting, just that they’re in the way of your victory. But now…” he paused a beat, his eyes darting over to where Jung-bae and Gi-hun were sitting, deep in conversation, before landing on you, eyes scanning your face with a curious intensity. “I’ll do everything to keep my team alive.” You couldn’t help but laugh coldly. The sentiment was sweet, sure, but there were no guarantees.

“From what Gi-hun told us, it might not be a team game. It could be something completely out of our control…”

“I’m hopeful!” He exclaimed, the optimistic, puppy-like demeanour back as he grinned at you.

“I’m glad someone is.” The intercom informed you that it was 10 minutes until lights out, and you couldn’t help but let out a shuddering breath. You weren’t looking forward to that - trying to sleep in a dark room filled with hundreds of people you didn’t know. Desperate people.

“Let’s find our beds for the night?” Dae-ho prompted, standing and offering his hand to help you up. You took it, smiling at him thankfully and glancing around for the other members of your team, palm feeling cold when his touch left it. “Look, there are two next to each other just above where Gi-hun has set his things down. We can bunk close together so you know you’re safe. I’m a light sleeper!’ His constant proactivity in making you feel safe and comfortable was warming your heart, but simultaneously causing a bout of nausea and anxiety that rose from your gut. One of you might die tomorrow in these twisted games. He would betray you in a heartbeat to keep himself alive, regardless of his sentiments. And despite that, you're already starting to trust him.

He was right though; he was a light sleeper. A few hours in and you hadn’t slept at all yet, fear clouding every corner of your mind, and the only thing soothing you was the soft purr of his snores. Eventually, you couldn’t help but sit upright, a quiet but frustrated sigh escaping your lips as your hands ran across your face and through your hair. His voice muttered your name, and you glanced over in shock to see him slowly sitting up in his bed, his tired eyes raking over you with concern.

“What’s wrong? Are you ok?” You pulled your legs to your chest, nodding at him before resting your head onto your knees.

“Can’t sleep.” You muttered as a sorry excuse of an explanation, but it seemed to convey what you really meant, his head cocked in worry.

“Can I help at all?” You opened your mouth to reply, to tell him that you'd be ok, but he continued before you had a chance. “Maybe you should try falling asleep before me. I’m going to be awake for a while now anyway, I can keep watch.” You were going to protest, to tell him to rest up and keep his energy for tomorrow, but honestly… it might help you. Just knowing he was keeping an eye out could get you a few hours of rest at least.

“…would that be ok?” You asked timidly, but he nodded with his now signature enthusiasm.

“Of course! I told you I’d protect you, I’m keeping my end of the bargain.”

“Thank you.”

“Don’t mention it. Please, just get comfortable.” Your body instinctively laid down as close to him as possible, only the bars between the bunks separating you, curling up on the small bed and settling in. You closed your eyes, exhausted beyond belief, but the moment you did, panic overtook you. It was irrational, sure, but before, when you couldn’t see him, you could hear him snoring so you knew he was still there. Now, it was dead silent. Your arm reached forwards instinctively, avoiding the metal posts to meet the soft fabric of his uniform, fingers latching on securely. You blushed at your own response to fear, grateful to the dark surrounding you, but as you felt him shuffle closer, allowing you a firmer grip, all of your nerves dissipated, your body finally giving in to exhaustion.

You woke to loud classical music and the intercom announcing that the next game will be starting shortly. You blinked your eyes open, groaning already at the aches forming in your body and the speed of your heartbeat at the thought of the horrors today might bring. But then, you felt a hand softly close around your forearm, giving a gentle squeeze of encouragement. You glanced down to see where your hand was still clasped around the edge of his T-shirt, the back of your fingers grazing the warm skin of his stomach, his own arm draped atop yours from where he lay on your side. You blushed furiously, untangling your arm from his and sitting up as casually as you could manage, rubbing the back of your neck in an attempt to hide your red cheeks.

“Hey…” he muttered sleepily, shifting to sit up too, and your body automatically turned to him, as though after just a few hours of knowing him, you were programmed to seek his voice out and follow it. “Remember what I said, ok? Stick by me today. If it’s Dalgona like Gi-hun said, pick triangle, and if not, we’ll work it out.” You couldn’t do much but nod, nerves and fear clouding your senses. You just focussed on putting one foot in front of the other, climbing out of bed and lining up with the rest of the players in the centre of the room. When the guards starting walking, you followed wordlessly until you reached the game room, the only thing keeping you from breaking down was the knowledge that Dae-ho was right behind you.

Gi-hun’s confused expression when you entered the room confirmed everything you needed to know - you wouldn’t be playing Dalgona today. However, Dae-ho’s optimism from the day before was well-placed, as the speakers announced that players should arrange themselves into teams of five. It was an easy pick. At some point during the night or morning, Gi-hun had reconciled with Player 001, and he honestly seemed like a solid addition to the team. He had physical skill - you’d seen that during the fight - and he had a seriousness about him that made you feel confident.

They announced the games, and your heart dropped. As the only girl on the team, you knew they’d ask you to play gonggi, and it just wasn’t something you’d played. As the inevitable question came, you shook your head in shame.

“I’m sorry, I never had anyone to teach it to me.” Your heart broke at the disappointment on your teammates faces.

“I can play gonggi.” Dae-ho piped up from beside you, and you breathed out in relief.

“An ex-marine playing gonggi?” You heard Jung-bae pipe up, and you couldn’t help but frown at his comment. You could immediately hear the pride drain from Dae-ho’s voice as he replied, and you glared at the older man, hoping to quietly convey your disappointment in him.

“I have four older sisters, so I played with them sometimes.” Jung-bae started to backtrack and encourage him, but you couldn’t help but think about why Dae-ho felt like he had to defend himself. It was such an endearing trait - a softer side that you valued and trusted in an ally - and yet he was explaining why it was ok to be good at a kid’s game. It made you feel sad for him. You interrupted Jung-bae’s forced sentiment slightly harshly.

“I’m good at flying stone. I used to bet the boys in my class that I could beat them and won every time.” Jung-bae looked as though he was going to say something, but Dae-ho spoke up first with a wide smile that calmed your nerves.

“Perfect! We’re lucky to have an expert with us. What about the rest of you?”

The rest of the team decided their roles quickly, Jung-bae sarcastically stating if he couldn’t play flying stone like he wanted, ddakji was his next best choice. You just shrugged. Gi-hun settled on jegi, and Player 001 seemed happy with what was left to him, so now, all you had to do was wait.

The first race was awful. It felt like a car crash you couldn’t bring yourself to look away from as the second player in their team missed in flying stone over and over and over again. Your team were discussing strategies based on how they were doing, how missing the stone eats up time as you have to fetch it, but you just felt a lump form in the back of your throat. If you failed this, all of you would die. The timer hit zero as he finally struck the stone, and you ripped your eyes away just in time, covering your ears and staring at the floor as the sound of gunshots ricocheted throughout the room. You eventually opened your eyes as the pink guards carried large gift boxes into the room that you could only assume were coffins for the dead, and turned to glance at Dae-ho in horror. He wasn't looking at his surroundings, practicing his part of the game with some small stones, but there was a noticeable shake in his hands that hadn’t been there before.

It was hours before it was your turn, and you were already exhausted before even playing. Watching everyone else, being so invested in each and every person’s survival, constantly thinking about how you could improve on their methods for their own attempt - it had taken its toll. And now, it was finally time for you to do it. You looped your arms around Jung-bae’s and Dae-ho’s, ankles already bound together, and he gave you one last smile of encouragement before you set off. You moved in accordance to Gi-hun’s shouts, reaching the ddakji station before you knew it. It only took two attempts and it flipped, the excitement of your group palpable as you continued to the next game. Your turn.

Your hands were shaking as you took the stone from the guard, almost so much that you dropped the damn thing. You tried to breathe deeply, to calm yourself down, but your mind wouldn’t stop returning to that first race, to the player who missed over and over…

Warm hands surrounded your own, snapping you out of your thoughts and grounding you. Dae-ho spoke, and you looked up at him, fear etched into your features.

“Breathe. Remember how you used to do it. You’re just on the playground winning a bet. Steady your hands, breathe, and throw.” You nodded along as he spoke, breaths returning to normal just long enough to compose yourself, crouching slightly. Like a skipping stone. As it left your hand, you cursed quietly. You were worried that it was too high, not quite the right angle, but by some miracle, it caught the top of the stone, toppling it just with the lightest touch. You could’ve cried as the Circle guard raised his hands above his head to mimic the shape on his mask, relieved that you wouldn’t be at fault if your team didn’t make it.

Dae-ho’s arm was like a vice as you made your way to the next game, his own nerves now evident. He gathered the gonggi in his hand, feeling the weight of them, and you and Player 001 leant slightly away from him to give him the space he needed. Jung-bae started to speak, throwing some generic words of encouragement his way, but you shushed him quickly. He’d told you earlier that he concentrated better when it was silent, so you intended to make sure that he had the conditions he needed. You watched as he let out a breath in preparation, then began, moving with speed and accuracy that left you in awe. As he held out his fist to the guard, and they approved, you couldn’t help but quickly wrap your arm around him, a short celebration before moving to the next section.

It took Player 001 a long time to complete the Spinning Top. You couldn’t help but flinch every time he failed, glancing up at the time in worry as he cursed himself out over and over. Gi-hun set him straight, calming him down quickly and reminding him of everything at risk, and he finally succeeded. The last portion of the race passed in a blur of seconds, Gi-hun quickly completing Jegi with the help of Player 001 before stumbling over the finish line, unexpected tears falling from your eyes in relief. You had actually made it, all of you had…

Gunshots rung out in the room, and you screamed, instinctively ducking down, your hands flying to your ears. It wasn’t until your heartbeat returned to normal and the guards started to unlock your ankle restraints that you realised Dae-ho had wrapped himself around you, one arm pulling your face into his chest, your head nestled tightly in his hand and folding the rest of himself around you. You tried to move, legs now free, but he wasn’t budging. You could feel his heart hammering against his chest, breaths shaky as they fanned against your neck. You pulled your hands from your ears, pressing them to his chest and gently easing him back to standing. That seemed to snap him back to reality a little, but he looked confused, still shaking.

“Hey, Dae-ho…” you muttered, and his eyes finally settled on you, looking like a deer caught in headlights, “it’s ok, they didn’t shoot us. We’re alive, we’re ok…” You could almost see the cogs turning in his mind as you said that, the confusion and fear slowly giving way to relief, breaths steadying as his eyes frantically scanned your body for signs of injury.

“We’re ok?” He whispered, and you nodded.

“We’re all good. Nobody got hurt. We did it.” He nodded, the gravity of what you said finally hitting him. He smiled, but his eyes still looked far away, like he wasn’t quite grounded yet. “Let’s go back to the dorms, yeah? Then vote to get the fuck out of here.” He just nodded again, and you led him from the room, following the rest of your team, who kept glancing back at him with a concerned expression.

By the time you got back to the main room, though, he was back to his usual enthusiastic self, excitedly discussing voting plans with the rest of your team, and encouraging everyone on their prowess in their individual games. Despite your victory, it seemed that you all wanted to leave, happy with the money as it was and wanting a fresh start outside of this hell. But as the voting commenced, it didn’t take long for the O side of the tally to tick up, and by the time you and Gi-hun got to vote - the last out of everybody - it didn’t matter. The circles had already won.

Dinner was a silent affair: Gi-hun, Player 001 and yourself eating quietly while Dae-ho kept guiltily glancing to where Jung-bae had extradited himself, his traitorous blue badge burning your eyes as though it was a bright neon sign. Eventually, he stood, pulling the older man almost by the scruff of his neck over to where the rest of you were and having a quiet, frustrated conversation with him. You sighed as Dae-ho dragged him to stand in front of you all, looking at you expectantly as Jung-bae just looked sheepish. You sighed. No point losing an ally over something you couldn’t change now.

“It’s not like you voting to leave would have changed a whole lot, we were outvoted by more than one person…” The subsequent onslaught of thanks almost made you want to take it back, but the joy and pride in Dae-ho’s face made it worth it.

While you pretty much knew each other’s names already, he decided this would be a good time for everyone to introduce themselves properly, starting with himself. He explainied that his name meant ‘big tiger’, and it made you giggle. It was fitting - a hard and brutal exterior when needed, but ultimately a softy beneath it all. You heard everyone else’s, finally learning that Player 001 was called Young-il, just like his number, but when it got to you, you had to explain that you weren’t sure what your name meant.

“We could always give it a meaning,” Gi-hun piped up, and you laughed.

“Like what?”

“Maybe… good at throwing.” You laughed again as his face crumpled in shame at his own attempt, the others chiming in to better him.

“Loud snorer!” Jung-bae exclaimed, earning an offended ‘hey’ thrown in his direction.

“Good teammate?” Young-il said, and Gi-hun scoffed.

“That one’s just lazy! What about pretty hair?”

“You don’t name someone after their hair!”

“Kind angel.” Dae-ho said proudly, and you honestly felt close to tears as everyone else stopped bickering to agree with him. You smiled thankfully as his eyes met your’s, laced with warmth and care. Maybe it would all be ok if you stayed a little longer.

"Ok, big tiger, kind angel it is."

“When we survive the next game and finally get to leave this place…” You had been talking for well over an hour now, and you had given up correcting his ‘when’ statements to ‘if’. His optimism was so sweet it hurt your teeth, but if it helped him cope with being in here, then they could rot for all you cared. “What do you want to do?”

“Well, I want to pay off my debt first…”

“Obviously.” He said with a laugh. “I mean fun stuff.” You smiled sadly, staring at your shoes.

“Honestly? I’ve been in survival mode for so long now I haven’t thought about fun stuff since I was young.” You paused a beat, glancing back up at him. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bum you out.” He just shrugged.

“That’s ok, I know what you mean. But you should. Think of something fun, I mean. Might help you get through this.” You couldn’t fault his logic, but it took you a minute before you could remember anything.

“When I was a kid, I read about the Bahamas being a magical place where there were black and pink sand beaches, and that you could swim with pigs in the sea there… it sounded so peaceful and picturesque. I think I’d like to visit one day.”

“That sounds amazing…” he replied, wistfully looking at the ceiling. You were keeping watch together, your team peacefully sleeping under the beds behind you, and the silence their absence left seemed to be goading you to keep talking.

“We could go together. A few weeks, no stress, just sunbathing and swimming and…” It had slipped out before you could stop it, and you could feel the sentiment bouncing around the room, loud and weighty. There was a charged moment of silence, his eyes drifting from the ceiling to you, scanning your face for signs of insincerity. He wouldn’t find any.

“That would be perfect.” You smiled in relief, but it was short lived, both of you whipping your heads to the door frantically as you heard a knocking echo in the dark space. You found the source of the noise quickly though - Players 120 and 149 requesting to use the bathroom. You watched the scene play out quietly, smiling at the older woman’s dramatic display as they were finally let through by the guards, and the space fell into a stifling silence once again.

“What are you going to do when you get out of here?”

“We.” He corrected you quickly, and you blushed.

“Fine, when we get out of here.” He paused, fiddling with the collar of his jacket and pulling it up to cover the lower half of his face, fingers twirling the zip as he pulled his knees to his chest.

“I want to take you to see my hometown. My family still live there, and I know my sisters would love you. They could even teach you gonggi too, if you wanted.” A tear fell to your cheek, the tenderness of it all hitting you quickly. “Maybe buy a little place there and one in Seoul, so I can visit them as much as I want. Spend weekends by the water there. Not as exciting as the Bahamas, granted…” You rested your head on his shoulder, blinking back the tears and swallowing hard to clear the emotion from your voice. It didn’t work.

“That would be perfect.”

It scared you how much you trusted him so quickly. It hadn’t even been two days and you found yourself daydreaming of a future with him. A future where you didn’t have to do shit like this for money. A future where you both found good jobs, earning enough to keep you comfortable. A future where you could start over with the help of the money you earned here. A future worth living for. You’d always been sceptical, but maybe trauma bonding was a real thing after all.

“Dae-ho?” A sleepy voice behind you muttered, and you both turned to see Gi-hun shuffling out from beneath the one of the beds. You had all decided to make doubles when you were setting up earlier with the bunks that were already next to each other, sliding two mattresses together and having a buddy to make it safer, Jung-bae opting to sleep alone in shame. Young-il followed him out, yawning dramatically and rubbing his eyes. “You guys have been up for a long time, let us swap out for a while.”

“Are you sure?” You asked, but Young-il yawning had set you off, following suit even though you tried to suppress it. They just gave you that look dads use instead of saying ‘I told you so’. “Yeah, yeah, ok fair enough.”

Dae-ho shuffled in first, and you followed. It was cramped, sure, but there was just enough room for you to sleep on your side or turn over, so you didn’t feel claustrophobic. As you made your way in, you realised how dark it was, evidenced by the fact you only found where Dae-ho was when you bumped into him, your arm pressing into his. A few moments passed and you stayed like that, finding comfort in the warmth he provided you with, and the soft sound of his breathing. Then you felt it. One of his fingers delicately tracing a line up the back of your hand. Your breath hitched, then evened out as the patterns he drew soothed you, and you couldn’t stop your head from lulling towards him to rest on his shoulder once more. Wordlessly, he withdrew his arm from beside yours and slid it underneath your neck, his hand falling to your shoulder, gently pulling you closer without being forceful. You allowed him to move you however he wanted, following his guidance and twisting until you were on your side, letting your leg drape over his and your hand fall to his chest. Your head ended up nestled into his neck as his arm kept tightening around you, hand eventually resting on your waist. You settled further into him with a contented sigh, his other hand meeting yours and enveloping it, the warmth and comfort alongside the rise and fall of his chest almost sending you straight to sleep.

It was a few minutes before you heard him speak, and even then you couldn’t be sure it was real. You were so close to drifting off, and his voice was barely audible, lips ghosting across your scalp.

“Promise me…” he whispered, quiet and vulnerable, “that we’ll make it out of here?” He sounded so broken. You lifted your entwined hands to your lips, pressing a soft kiss to his knuckles that you hoped conveyed reassurance before tucking your joined hands close to your body.

“I promise.” His own lips found themselves on your forehead, the lightness of the touch leaving your skin tingling and a content blush fanning across your cheeks. His hands squeezed yours tighter as exhaustion began to pull you under, and all you could think was how badly you’d fucked yourself over. That even if you somehow made it out of this place, if it was without him, it would feel worthless.

"Goodnight, kind angel."

-> part 2

[comatosebunny09]

carpe noctem [ resolution ] | sylus

— summary: he tells you to take a load off—clear your head. it would be a nice gesture if the center of your torment didn’t accompany you (or the one where sylus is tired of waiting for you to want him, too). — cw: reader is not mc, femme reader, assassin reader, misunderstandings, self-deprecating thoughts, mutual pining, sexual content, more self-indulgence, alcohol, language, mentions of violence, implied naughty things done in public, sylus is probably ooc, i struggled with this but i hope someone likes it, mdni — tracklist: mystery survivor - brown eyed girls bonnie & clyde - dean heaven & back - chase atlantic pon pón - khruangbin lago azúl - jamila velazquez efecto - bad bunny lights up - harry styles

You’re halfway through a glass of something acrid when heavy leather plops on the bar counter beside you. 

Its brass buckles gleam ominously beneath the foggy, red glaze of Lux. You arch a brow. Tilt your head. The ice in your glass shifts, and your jaw slackens.

You don’t have to turn around to know who the source of the commotion is. Feel him before you see him, a solid mass of shifting muscle pressed up between your shoulder blades. The heat he exudes permeates through layers of skin and flesh. His cologne surfs above that of alcohol and tobacco, curling around your senses in a steady creep. 

He leans closer, and the static from his proximity prickles your skin. He perches loose fists on the counter’s edge, bracketing you between sinewy arms, just barely brushing yours. Just barely. 

You smirk. Try to hide that shiver when his lip grazes the outskirts of your ear, purposeful, slow, breath disturbing the delicate baby hairs framing your face.

“Up for a joyride?” he asks, his voice gritty, steeped low between the rock of the music and your pulse wild in your throat. It pools hot in the chasm in your chest, a slow trickle to your belly. 

You set your glass down. Peer over your shoulder. His face is so close, that pretty nose, those grey-fringed lashes, you can almost kiss it. 

“Can I change first?”

It’s a solid question; you’re still wearing your costume. Body glitter. Makeup. Limbs still hum with the adrenaline from your show. From the attention. From his eyes sweeping over you from the second floor’s rail as you swiveled your hips in rhythm with the music.

He noses along your cheek, siphoning the breath from your lungs in a sticky gasp. That mouth again—it moves along your ear, murmuring so hot and fevered, you wonder if you’re dizzy because of it or the alcohol coloring your veins.

“Later.”

You suppress a frown as he draws back, taking that overwhelming pressure with him. You watch him retreat into the crowd of club goers, eyes burning like two feverish flames before he makes for the door. 

You’re surprised by his easy command over your body, but you don’t have to be told twice. Don’t think twice.

Downing what’s left in your glass, the sting eases the ache of your nerves. You slip a fistful of crumpled-up bills onto the counter for the bartender before snatching up the leather jacket and sliding off the barstool faster than she can thank you for the tip.

“Have fun!” she calls at your back.

You miss the knowing smile kissing the bartender’s lips as you follow behind your boss’s afterimage, wending through the sea of pulsing bodies with all the purpose of the world. 

—

It’s chilly out.

The night air nips at your exposed skin, salted with the scent of exhaust fumes and evergreens and fried food. 

You had shrugged into his coat on your way out of Lux. 

It's too big for you, the sleeves’ hems brushing past your fingertips. But it smells like him, like drive-in movies and fresh cut grass and safety. And it’s warm like him. Warm like the blissful sweep of sun rays. Like a campfire amid the first crack of winter. You’ll bear the jacket’s weight if it means being closer to him. Carrying a piece of him over your shoulders, distributing his load so he doesn’t have to bear it all himself.

He’s waiting for you. Propped all cool against his bike like the love interest of some dark romance novel, silhouetted by the winking city lights behind him. He’s a behemoth of black leather and white hair, and he smirks at you over crossed arms when he sees you. He reaches into his saddlebag to procure a helmet with cat ears mounted on its front, thrusting it towards you.

You lift a brow. Snort. Your lips crook as your heels click over asphalt. He’s so sure you’ll come with him. You’ll come to him. 

But you’d follow him to the ends of the world if he asked.

You take the helmet, your skin tingling when your fingers brush over matte kevlar. For a moment, the art of breathing eludes you. You excuse it as a consequence of the air, of the alcohol bubbling beneath your skin, of your hair tickling your neck. 

You mount the bike behind him after sliding the helmet onto your head. It purrs to life between your thighs, shaky like a slumbering beast, smoke crawling from the exhaust. You put as much space between your bodies as possible, hips pushed back, still wanting to maintain a modicum of decency. He peers at you over a broad shoulder, and you know he’s nothing short of amused behind the dark wash of his visor. 

You gasp, your helmet fogging with condensation, when he tugs you closer by the wrist. His back is deliciously rigid pressed up against your breasts. He taps your hands crossed over his navel, ensuring they’re secure, ensuring you’re holding tight before kicking the kickstand back. You lay your cheek between his shoulder blades once the tension abates. Brush off his brazenness as him wanting to keep you safe.

You cling to him for dear life with a yip in your throat as the motorcycle peels off. And he chuckles something smoky, adrenaline spuming all hot through your veins.

The pair of you cut a sleek outline of black as you whip through the quieted streets. Your destination’s unknown, but you’re just thrilled to be out. To be at his side like the universe isn’t conspiring against you. The wind is brisk and welcoming, licking your exposed thighs and legs, prickly through your stockings. 

Your lips ache with a smile, and once you’ve grown accustomed to the speed, you unwind an arm from around his middle to hold it out behind you. Lean slightly back. Wind eases through the spaces between your fingers. You feel like you’re flying. Free. 

It’s a rush, whatever hair you didn’t squeeze into your helmet whipping wildly around you. As street lights glaze over your visor, you feel like you’re in a dream. And the music playing in the built-in headset is transcendental, aiding that out-of-body experience. 

It’s been too long since he’s taken you out for a ride on the back of his bike. Hardly had time for it, what with the missions and deals and a pretty, infectious damsel soaking up the space between you. 

She’s off in Skyhaven on leave. 

You thought it strange she’d vacation there of all places, but you didn’t argue when you dropped her off at the station, shrugging her somberness off as anxiety for the trip.

Your boss has been surprisingly bold in her absence. Grew more purposeful with the brush of his fingers, with his staring, more concise with his words. You know it’s just his way of filling the crater Ms. Hunter left in his chest. You’re something of a placeholder. Someone to pass the time. But you’ve been taking advantage of it. Flirting back for old time’s sake, teasing him, manipulating him with the flutter of your lashes, knowing he could never be yours deep down. 

Something pulls in your chest. A steady tug like ivy through a lattice fence. A pull on your conscience. Your smile falters the slightest bit. You shove down those gut-wrenching feelings, trying to enjoy the night. The airiness between you. The familiarity. It’s just a joyride. No harm, no foul. You’re not betraying anyone by enjoying yourself a little. Besides…

You never know when it’ll be snatched away like a rug from beneath your feet.

—

You don’t expect an airfield to slide into view, the steel grate of a barbed fence, a stretch of grass painted with dew. The familiar outline of a jet catches your sight, the sleek metal gleaming in the coppery blink of the moon. You wonder what bossman’s up to as he cuts the bike into a hangar, its rumble echoing off thick metal walls whilst you ease to a stop. 

He cuts the engine. You watch the muscles in his back swim as he tugs off his helmet, shaking out those wispy tendrils of white. So cool, you think with pursed lips. You follow suit when you remember yourself, dismounting the motorcycle after him, throat thick with questions.

You wordlessly trail behind him, the click of your heels reverberating throughout the hangar, traded for that of muted clops against the asphalt on the airstrip. Crickets. Wind. Engines humming in the distance. He’s nearly twice your size, yet you’re practically his shadow. Always have been, a silent presence at his back, a viper ready to strike at his command. Loyal thing you are, through and through. 

“What’s this about?” you finally ask when you near his private jet. You’ve had enough ambiguity for the night. 

He’s halfway up the stairs, massive hands swallowing the rails. He studies you from his shoulder, a roguish crease around his eyes. 

“Do you trust me?”

You snort. Has he ever given you a reason not to? He’s always had your back. Always a sturdy palm on your shoulder, squeezing. Antiseptic and gauze to dress your wounds. The comforting burn of whiskey in your throat. A voice to lull you into a fitful sleep when the nightmares bare themselves. 

Your voice is husky, low, a smile tugging at your lips, a thrill coiling around your spine.

“Of course.” 

You take the hand he offers you, guided up the steps into the jet’s cabin like something delicate. 

The crew greets you, all knowing smiles and quick bows beneath the sepia-toned cabin lights. Sylus’ hand falls to the small of your back, searing through the heavy fibers of his jacket, possessive yet respectful, burning down to bone as he leads you down the aisle.

“Wait a sec,” you muse, a quizzical glance cast over your shoulder, aimed at him. “I didn’t pack anything.”

He quirks a brow. Smirks. “Well, it’s a good thing I know your measurements.”

You try not to linger on what that means. On the tight coil in your stomach, the way he looked at you as if only you exist in his world.

—

He’s as cryptic as ever. Then again, you haven’t pressured him for answers. Figure he’s keeping to himself for a reason, the blue light of the tablet in his hand ominously shadowing his face. 

Another mission, perhaps? An undercover gig where you play a glittering, docile doll on his arm until he gets what he’s after? He’ll fill you in on the intricacies later, you’re sure. You trust him so much, it’s sickening. 

It’s been a while since you’ve been on a night fight. You’ve long since traded the distant gleam of the city below for the dark brew of clouds outside the window. And despite the luxury flanking you, you grow antsy. 

You’d slipped off your heels. Fidgeted with the buckles of his jacket in the face of his silence before tearing yourself from the seat to grab something to drink. Something to take the edge off. To dispel the slew of questions in your mind, the curl of your tongue, the gnarl in your stomach, a voice far-off telling you something was amiss.

Your hips sway something dangerous as you near your seat. Two crisp glasses of bubbly fizzle in your palms, a sly little smile on your face. He doesn’t look up when you plop down, still thoroughly engrossed in whatever’s on his screen until you thrust a champagne flute towards him. He accepts it with a quirk of lips, fingers purposeful in their excursion over yours on the stem, eyes drinking you in.

You shudder, feeling like he’s stripping you down to the marrow with that devastating gaze. Clearing your throat, you take a sip. Hide your anxiety behind the rim, opting for cool, calm, collected. It’s a good burn. A good fizz, loosening the restraints of your inhibitions. Maybe you can badger him now.

“Are you kidnapping me?” you joke, crossing your legs. Innocently drag your toes up his tibia for added effect, luring a chuckle that bleeds sin from his throat.

He sets the tablet down on the side table with his champagne flute. Leans slightly forward, fingers wrapping around your foot to drag it into his lap. “Would you like me to?”

A thrill shoots through you. Spools hot in your stomach. You’re insane, because you think being kidnapped by him wouldn’t be so bad. 

His fingers are magical. Give you a glimpse of a night two months back. You still taste him. Still feel him, the texture of his shirt between your fingers burned into your mind. The sounds he poured into your mouth, the dangerous press of his body against yours…

Shifting gears, you swipe a finger over your bottom lip in contemplation. His digits knead through tension and pressure. You bite back a sound. Swallow. Don that playful mask.

“Dunno. Think I’d be fine with it if it were you holding me hostage.”

His smirk deepens, a dimple cratering his cheek, lashes dancing as he watches his hands at work. You want to ask why—why he’s being so attentive, so disarming, so god damn irresistible when he smiles like that. When he laughs like that. When he does that, that thing where he makes you feel like he could throw it all away for you. 

But, you settle for letting the steady hum of the jet engines saturate the air between you. Don’t want to disrupt the moment, the spell falling like a gauzy shawl over your shoulders. The burn of his gaze on your cheek as you peer out the window.

He’s an enigma and could put back up that aloof front at the snap of your fingers. And you might just remember that you’re dropping your defenses too low. Growing too close with a man who couldn’t be farther away. 

—

You land somewhere remote. 

Somewhere off-grid where the sun always shines and tropical birds sing in the trees overhead. Someplace where the ocean glitters a clear blue, and sand gets stuck between your toes, gritty, trapped against the soles of your feet by your sandals. 

It’s humid, the kind of damp that pastes your blouse—yes, you finally had time to change, to freshen up—to your torso like snakeskin. But you bear with the mild discomfort because you don’t think you’ve ever been somewhere so beautiful. 

It’s like a best kept secret. A treasure Sylus has hoarded from you like a crow’s nest, though you can understand why. 

It’s an island untainted by city life. Sleepy, save for the calming crash of waves along the shoreline. The air smells of sea salt and greenery. Of memories of a distant youth, all splotchy in your mind. You can’t recall much of your past up to a certain age—brainwashing—but it conjures something deep-rooted and nostalgic. Something that makes you all warm and fuzzy inside, and your lips ache with a smile.

You were greeted by locals upon your arrival. Men in linen shirts, skin kissed by the sun. Women with pretty freckles, wavy hair, and hugs as welcoming as a summer’s day. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Sylus so at ease—or as calm as someone like him can appear. He was boyish in a way. Infectious, gazing at you with eyes that glittered like the sun refracted off the ocean in the distance.

You pretended your voice wasn’t lodged in your throat at the sight. Like your body wasn’t humming with a pleasant sensation when he laced your fingers together, tugging you down the shore. Confusing you more than the jet lag, than the dizzying weight of the sun.

Dirt roads branch and twist through this tropical oasis. You take a Jeep to a tucked-away bungalow, sunlight dappling your bodies through the leaves as you ease out of the SUV. It’s so very him, isolated and distant. And despite how modest and unassuming it looks outside, the bungalow’s inside is something to whistle at. 

It’s luxurious. Two stories. Hardwood floors, ceiling-high windows, posh furniture, beach motifs, elegant coastal decor. Of course, you don’t expect anything less from your enigma of a boss. He’s just full of surprises, isn’t he?

“I take it you’re enjoying the view,” he asks from behind as you study the beach not too far from the veranda. The lazy back and forth crawl of the waves. Seabirds pecking at the sand. Palm trees scraping a sky so blue. 

“It’s gorgeous,” you say, awestruck. Not really thinking, leaning into your hands pressed against the glass. You’re childlike. It’s magical. You feel like you’re witnessing something intimate. Somewhere you have no business being, territory that’s off-limits.

You turn suspicious eyes on him, crossing your arms, drumming your fingers against your bicep. “What are we doing here?” Straight to the point. You’d been burning to get to it. 

You didn’t prod him much during the jet ride. Assume that you’re here to uncover some elusive protocores. Here to take out a big baddie and end his nefarious dealings. Maybe negotiate with the local military for some state-of-the-art weaponry. Not to let your guard down like the atmosphere suggests. 

Sylus grabs a peach from the fruit bowl settled on the kitchen island’s center. Tosses it up before catching it with practiced ease, and his fingers swallow the damn thing whole. You watch with bated breath as he brings it to his mouth. His eyes narrow behind it, unreadable half-moons, a sly smile stretching past it. 

“House-sitting,” he replies before taking a bite. The sound is juicy, overwhelming, pristine teeth tearing through peachy pink skin. Your mouth waters. You’re hungry, stomach flipping, but you don’t think it’s food you crave. 

“House-sitting,” you parrot, testing the weight of those words in your mouth, distracting yourself. You round the island to stand across from him. “For who?”

“An old colleague,” he answers as if it’s as easy as night’s transition into day. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes, looking off to the side. Sylus associating himself with anyone long-term is a foreign concept. Anyone other than you, the twins, Mephisto, Ms. Hunter…

But, you’ll bite. 

“Then why’d you bring me here?”

You stiffen when he moves. When he props his hands on either edge of the granite countertop after setting his peach down, and the span of his arms is so ridiculously wide. He pitches himself forward, spilling like liquid fire over the island, and the heat of his body is tangible. So close, static builds, his breath stirring the baby hairs matted to your skin by sweat.

A veil drops. Anticipation wells in your chest. His gaze flicks from between your eyes down to your lips that part and quiver with the effort of breathing. With an attempt to form words. 

His jaw slackens in kind, contemplative. Like he’s at odds with himself, mulling over something deep in his mind. For a moment, you think he’ll kiss you. Selfishly hope he kisses you. 

Instead, he crooks a finger beneath your chin. Tilts your head slightly back, and you’re watching his eyes gleam like gems held to the sun from down the bridge of your nose. 

His fingers curl around your neck. Tangle in the fine hairs at your nape. Grip loose enough for you to pull back if you deem the pressure too intense, but firm enough to anchor you to the spot. Your pulse thrums something frenetic beneath his fingers. He swipes a worn thumb pad over the corner of your mouth, and you widen it without realizing. 

You unconsciously lean into his palm. Eyes shroud with something dark and unmistakable.  A quiet yearning to mirror his. An unspoken plea, your defenses slowly burying themselves beneath the wooden panels of the floor. 

You’re closing both your hands around his wrist, tender. Cautious. Holding his hand to your cheek like you’ll fall if he lets go. You turn your face towards his thumb, its roughened callus easing over your bottom lip, lightly pulling it down, delightful tingles echoing through your body as you absently nuzzle into his palm. 

“So you can’t run away from me this time,” he rasps, entranced by your mouth. By the suppleness of your skin, the warmth bleeding from your face into his palm. 

Run away? Why would you—

Who would want to—

You’re out of your mind. So deliciously delirious. Whether from the jungle heat or the molten pressure of his presence, you’re unsure. You just want to live in this moment forever. Preserve it like a snapshot from an old, disposable film camera. Your inhibitions don’t live here, your conscience. Only you and this man who pilfers the air from your lungs, who stirs the earth beneath your feet.

You blink drunkenly, your stare dropping to his mouth. Back to those eyes leaking a mysterious shade of ruby. Pupils blown wide. “What do you mean?”

“Is it so wrong to want you all to myself?” he husks, voice abrasive. Disarming. You feel it in your toes. Feel it embedding itself into your psyche. “No distractions, no misunderstandings?”

You laugh. Swallow against the grit of your throat. Lick your lips. “What do you mean by that?” 

You know what he means. The weight his words carry. Yet you play coy. It’s easier to deflect. Easier to deny than to call it what it is—a weekend getaway. A chance to pick up where things left off. An opportunity to stir whatever mess swells between you. Some time to play until his precious little hunter is back in his arms.

He draws you closer. So close, your foreheads touch. You’re standing on tippy-toe, palms flat against the granite, watching his lashes flutter as he studies your mouth. Breaths hot and dizzying against your skin. He’s massive. Could cover you like a blanket, swallow you whole like a riptide dragging you out to sea. 

“Still playing oblivious.” He sounds forlorn. Voice cracks as it peters, and it simmers in your stomach. “No matter. You’ll find out soon enough,” he says, trading his despondent smile for a smirk.

His thumb cruises along your cheek. And for a moment, it looks like he’ll kiss you. Steal the taste of your lips. But he’s a conniving little shit. He releases you from his spell, hand falling from your neck, fingers grazing your shoulder. He draws back, snatching up his peach for another bite.

You blink away the bleariness. Tamp down a pout. Watch as he moves towards the door, a hand stuffed in his pocket.

“Where are you off to?” you call at his back. Chew your lip, brows knit. Only he could make you this petulant—this lovesick. 

“To visit an old friend. Try to enjoy yourself while I’m away. Take a load off. Enjoy the sights.”

He disappears through the desk-speckled doorframe before you can get another word out, swallowed by the sun. Leaves you to nurse the violent thrum of your heart. To bask in the heady scent he leaves—the molten ache spooling between your legs.

You cross your arms. Huff like a bratty child. He’s doing this on purpose, you’re sure. Punishment for you leaving him hanging, much like you did him that night. 

Hard to relax when you want to throw yourself against the floor. Kick and scream. When you want him to kiss you like the world will end tomorrow. 

You’ll pay him back when he returns.

—

And you do. 

In the form of a red, floral dress that clings to the devastation of your body. 

Spaghetti straps barely cling to your shoulders. Loose knot tied against your naked back at the swell of your rear. The chiffon hem brushes your ankles, but a dangerous slit reveals enough skin to draw the attention of the bar’s other patrons. Locals. Middle-aged men with sweat beading on their temples and mustaches, drunken smiles on their faces, their tongues swiping over their lips. 

You had enough Spanish in your mouth to stumble through ordering drinks. 

Tequila. Not your go-to, but it’s a good burn. A burn that loosens your reservations, your arms in the air. It’s enough to make your hips sway seductively to match that smile on your face as you move through the hazy film of smoke adorning the bar, guided by the croon of the Reggaeton thumping in the floor. 

The attention’s nice. The staring, the lust coloring the air—you’re good at this, remember? But you’re centered on one man in particular. Dancing just for him. Just to fuck with him. Feel his eyes drilling down to your very being as if only you exist, and it makes your body hum pleasantly alongside the sting of the alcohol. 

He can’t keep his eyes off you, perched at the bar’s counter on a stool, swirling the contents of his whiskey glass. Whether he’s watching you out of a habit of concern—he’s stared down every man who came within an inch of you, trying to guide you into a dance by the hips, by your arm, or a hand at the small of your back, and if looks could kill, everyone here would’ve been burned to cinders—or genuine intrigue, you’re unsure. But you play on your delusions anyway, figuring he’s just as enamored by the swivel of your hips as much as everyone else here.

He bought this dress just for you. Had it tailored to the shape of your body, down to the cinch of your waist, the span of your shoulders. You discovered it when he left you to your own devices earlier, boredom and curiosity leading you to scavenge through the luggage he packed for you after you walked the surf. 

When Sylus returned to the bungalow as the sun crested over the sky, you begged him to take you out. You wanted to dance. Wanted to explore this peaceful, tucked away island he whisked you off to, to have you all to himself. Wanted to make him pine for you as much as you yearned for him. Retribution for how he’d left you mentally reeling. Left your body burning. 

Besides, you couldn’t let such a pretty dress go to waste. 

Your gazes interlock every so often. His lips quirk seductively. He raises a glass to you, brows lifting slightly. He chose to hang back while you took to the dance floor. You’re enjoying yourself. He’s enjoying you, too. And the music’s nice. The atmosphere’s soothing. Sure, the bar’s a little run-down, a hole-in-the wall, half of it opening up into an impromptu patio outside. But it has its charm. 

You’ve never seen your boss dance before, but you figure a man like him has some rhythm. He’s cultured. Clearly been here before if the way the natives acknowledge him is anything to go by. Like someone to be respected or feared. 

You contemplate sidling over to him. Grabbing his hand, pushing your breasts up against his bicep, that pretty little beseeching smile crooking your lips. Think about dragging him out for a dance. Having that calamitous body pushing against yours, his hands at your waist, lips imprinting themselves on the hollow of your neck, voice murky in his throat.

But before you can bring the thought to life, someone plops on the barstool beside him. A man who looks like he could be Sylus’ age, though his stubble ages him. Dark hair, bushy brows, ill-fitting suit. He’s clearly inebriated by the slouch of his body. A carefree contrast to the regal set of Sylus’ shoulders. He knows him. Sylus looks annoyed when said man claps him on his back, his raucous laughter cutting through the music. His glass poised at his mouth, he leans closer to Sylus, murmuring something near his ear. 

Something esoteric by the looks of it. Something that you can’t catch, but it probably concerns you. Because when you turn in the midst of your dancing, you don’t miss both sets of eyes tuned to you—one set playful and knowing and adorned with crow’s feet, the other somber and far-off beneath furrowed brows, above tight lips.

You wonder what they’re on about. You’re about to sashay over before a stoutly, older man draws you close to salsa, pulling a laugh from your throat. And you’re so pretty and carefree as you move, your eyes occasionally flitting back to your boss and his company as they talk.

— 

The rain doesn’t detract from the island’s mugginess. In fact, it becomes even more humid, with bodies huddled together beneath the bar’s half-roof, trying to keep from getting wet. It’s fruitless, the rain puddling at your feet, making the concrete floors nothing short of slippery.

You don’t contest, laughing something unhindered when Sylus takes your hand, drawing out of the crowd. He flashes a smile over his shoulder before you jog after him, engulfed by the downpour and the gray haze cast by the heavy clouds overhead. You’re surprisingly fast for the towering heels you wear, strapped to your feet. And you’re both acting like two mischievous youths by the time Sylus pulls you under the awning of a nearby cafe, figuring the weather’s too tumultuous to make for your bungalow on foot.

It is there where your mirth simmers. Where you realize you’re soaked to the bone, your dress molded to you like a second skin. You’re incredibly close. So close, his overpowering warmth permeates through layers of flesh, and you’re spinning. Your nipples knot beneath the drag of the fabric. Sylus takes the opportunity to lure you closer, his back colliding with the stone wall behind him when you careen into his chest.

He’s so very handsome, white locks pasted to his sculpted face. So pleasantly solid against your palms pressed against his chest. His hands burn something fierce through your skin, fastened to your back. Time slows to a crawl, the rain an afterthought as you slowly look up, lost in the heady, love-drunk stir of his eyes. It wouldn’t take much to stand on tippy-toe to kiss him, to taste the rain intermingled with the saccharine flavor of his mouth.

So, you do.

Your fingers clasp around his biceps. And he doesn’t fight you, instead urging you forward, leaning down to meet you halfway. You come together like the moon drawn to the earth, and twin, relieved sounds leave your chests when your mouths collide. 

He takes your breath away, sucking it into his lungs like it’s his own. Cups your cheek in his palm, greedy, greedy as he anchors you to him. Your arms intuitively snake around his shoulders, wrists cross behind his neck. It’s like kissing fire, and the sounds he pours into you make your toes tingle, your center pulse.

Without warning, his fingers mold around your thighs, the thick flesh cratering between them before he rucks you up to encircle his waist with your legs.

You’re a mess of gnashing teeth and hair and desire as he turns your body, walking you into an alcove devoid of light, hidden from the street. And as your alarm bells sound in your mind—wait, stop, no—as your spine crashes into a textured, brick wall, you allow him to ravage you. To flood your body with every bit of emotion he’s held back for God knows how long via his mouth. Via his hands bunching your dress around your hips. His teeth scrawling down your neck before seeking refuge in your shoulder. 

You throw your head back, sighing hot and wanton, mouth curved into a smile. He’s hard and thick pressed to the apex of your thighs. All for you. Just for you.

This isn’t right. Isn’t how you envisioned things culminating between you, but you think, fuck it.

What happens here can stay here, the echo of your voices painting every crevice of the alleyway.  

— tags: @melonssoup, @dana-nite, @allura-miss, @l1ttlebabyapple, @asakiyu, @loliesaregreat, @theloveofnagiseishiroslife, @mentaltrouble2201, @jupitersays, @animecrazy76, @wowunreal, @jaeminsbuckethat, @darkeskye, @lookingforlia, @aishasylus, @t4naiis, @everywherenothere, @unknown-ends, @blessdunrest, @lunebulous, @iwantmyredvelvetcupcake, @ceronnica, @sillyfreakfanparty, @midiplier, @abbylee0710, @hanaluxx, @nicohii, @beewilko, @viqlume, @snowfall-jess (sorry if i missed anyone).

falling action | masterlist

[velvetbeeez]

۶ৎ᭙𝒽𝒶𝓉 𝒹𝑜𝑒𝓈 𝓎𝑜𝓊𝓇 𝒷𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽𝒹𝒶𝓉𝑒 𝓈𝒶𝓎 𝒶𝒷𝑜𝓊𝓉 𝓎𝑜𝓊 ? ๋࣭ ⭑✮⋆˙

⊹₊⟡⋆ Allow me to dissect every fiber of your being solely based on the day you entered the world. Before that, let me introduce you to the art of Numerology, a concept as old as time…quite literally, for it depends on dates and time for its functioning. I never understood why it works, since it uses time and the calendar- human-made things…but I suppose somewhere, between the layers of inventions of mortals and god’s will, lies a crack, this sacred concept rests there…

Everyone has a numerology number which they calculate with their birthdates.

It is abysmally easy, hence my expertise in it ୨ৎ

ִ ࣪𖤐 ℋ 𝑜𝓌 𝒹𝑜 𝓘 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓂𝓎 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝑒𝓇𝑜𝓁𝑜𝑔𝓎 𝓃𝓊𝓂𝒷𝑒𝓇?

╰┈➤You add the digits of the day you were born and ta-da, you have your numerology number ♡

For instance, my best friend, Rini, was born on 24 (yes the month and the year does not matter)

So, to know her numerology number, I will add 2 and 4, 2+4= 6

Her number is 6.

My other friend was born on 9, we will add 0 to 9 and get 9, his number is 9

Now, I was born on 28, so, we add 2+8 and get 10, but we must get a one-digit number so we add 1 to 0 and get 1, my numerology number is 1.

Easy peasy ⋆✴︎˚｡⋆

Now comes, the shimmering, brilliant question:

⋅˚₊‧ ୨୧ ‧₊˚ ⋅᭙𝓱𝓪𝓽 𝓭𝓸𝓮𝓼 𝓮𝓪𝓬𝓱 𝓷𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 𝓶𝓮𝓪𝓷?

The numbers tell you the planet you’re ruled by, thereby showing light to your behaviour, your life, your soul and the likes...

.𖥔 ݁ ˖𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 1

★ Ruled by the Sun. I love this one because I am a number one AAAAAAAASJSJSSKSK....Anyways, if you are number 1, you are a leader, born with a crown on your head and anger in your eyes. You are determined and ambitious, you get whatever you want with minimal effort. You shine the brightest in the crowd, attention is on you whenever you try to have it. Success and opportunity is on your doorstep at all times. You also keep your emotions and feelings within you, locking them securely and throwing the key into an abyss, frightened to show any vulnerability to anyone. You usually get stabbed in the back by people who you loved with all you had…You are glimmery, you glisten and give light and life to everyone around you but, beware, do not let your brilliance get to your head, or you might burst, taking with you, everyone else, down. You are a star, shine on...

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　　　

‧₊˚ ⏾. ⋅𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 2

✮ Ruled by the moon…. Well, you are the epitome of beauty itself, you are someone people stare at for hours without getting bored. Moon is also connected to emotions, you are a very emotional and sensitive being, like the softest plushy when poked a little hard with a sharp nail, tears, and bleeds cotton…You probably cry if one of your teddies falls off your bed. You are also very intuitive, you know when danger is lurking around, and you know when opportunity is near. You are also spiritual and see what no one else does, you are calm and cold, like water…Anyways, beautiful, gorgeous, calm sweetling, you are the best thing to land on earth. My friend is a number 2 and I swear on all I hold dear, she is the kindest, sweetest, though quietest, the most cherishable person ever.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　

❁ ๋࣭⭑𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 3

★ Omg, yes, Jupiter, my brother, and my dad are number 3. Guess what? Both of them are cunning and yet, wise. If you have someone in your life with the number 3, you must listen to their advice at all times. And if you are a number 3, hi there, the shining light and source of wisdom and cleverness. Jupiter is, in Hindi, called ‘The Guru’, meaning, the teacher. You literally represent the glorious higher knowledge, expansion, growth, and advisor. You are also humorous and fun-seeking, you are social, loving and jolly…But you might get unfocused sometimes because you like to do everything at once. Apart from that, you grow and you learn, you teach and you move on. You know what to do and when to do it, you are who people look up to before making a decision. Your footsteps are traced by many, they know whatever step you will take is in the right direction…

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

꩜ .ᐟ๋࣭⭑𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 4

★ Number 4, You are ruled by Rahu, which is a shadow planet, not visible to the eyes but can be associated with Uranus. In the Hindu mythology, there is a story about a demon called Rahuketu whose head was cut from its body, by a god. Rahu, being the head and Ketu being the tail. Rahu is the head, the brains, the dependable. You might not be physically very apt but the cogs in your brain turn faster than the speed of light. You are an academic weapon, a force to be reckoned with. You are loyal, disciplined, and hard-working, however, you might overwork yourself sometimes and get stubborn with your ways. Anyways, you are cunning, you know what you want, you are pragmatic and you are well, someone to fear.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

𖣂 ⋆˙⟡𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 5

★ Ruled by Mercury, the planet of intelligence and intellect. You are very social and good luck follows you like a puppy wherever you go, you are sharp-minded and intuitive, and you see through people as easily as you breathe. You embrace change and adventure. You are a social butterfly and make friends with a snap of your finger, you too, like number 4 are an academic weapon. Mercury governs versatility and quick thinking, which are key traits of the number 5. But you can find it difficult to commit to someone. You are also impulsive and can lack focus at times. But you are always quick to find your footing back. You see clearly and you act with a plan forged into the back of your brain.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

˚⊱🪷⊰˚𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 6

★ The planet Venus rules number 6, which is the planet of love, beauty, and harmony. This influences you to be compassionate, affectionate, and drawn to beauty and art. You have an innate sense of aesthetics and a deep appreciation for the pleasures of life, whether through relationships or artistic pursuits. You are draped in laces, silks, and the likes, you make even the ugliest piece of clothing into a piece of art. You are the aesthetics of a Sofia Coppola movie in the flesh. You are also very homely, you want to have a family and you love and adore kids.  You are a born caregiver, you wrap the people you love in a warm blanket and hand them hot tea. It is not a burden and you love it, you love the feeling, the proud fuzzing feeling in your heart after you had just helped someone. You are usually the friendliest but once you have been angered, it becomes next to impossible to win you back. You are a great friend to have. Anyone who you love is blessed. I can tell you so because my bestie is a number 6 hehe <3

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

♱ ༘⋆𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 7

★  Oh goodness…yes well number 7, ruled by Ketu, the lower part of Rahuketu. Another shadow planet but is sometimes, though wrongly associated with Neptune You are physically very apt, you have a good body and you’re great at sports. You see what no one else does but sometimes you do get lost in your little own abyss of thoughts. You also have a very romantic notion of love, something only seen in movies and books. You tend to do stuff without thinking twice. You are though, very spiritual and people feel a sense of calm washing over them after talking to you. You can be VERY mean when you want to (experienced it first hand, hence the omg in the beginning) though most of the time you’re a lil cutie, clueless and enjoying life like a party with the best booze and songs.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

∞ 🪐.࿔*:･ 𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 8

★ Number 8, ruled by Saturn, covered in rings of eternal karma and longing…Being number 8, you are infinite, in every sense, your love is infinite but so is your yearning and pain. You have to work thrice as hard as everyone else to climb the same mountain. You are bound by the clutches of karma, to elaborate, if you wrong someone, it will come back instantly and with a 100 x force, hitting you square in the jaw, so beware about that. The perks though, of karma being your forever roommate is that no one can be a bitch to you and get away with it. Also, you will reach success and a load amount of it but later in comparison to others around you. You are calming and fun to talk to, you are spiritual with a penchant for exploring the unknown. My advice? enjoy life and lessen the mulling over every little aspect of it.

˚　　　　✦　　　.　　. 　 ˚　.　　　　　 . ✦　　　 　˚　　　　 . ★⋆. 　　　.   　　˚　　 　　*　　 　　✦　　　.　　.　　　✦　˚ 　　

⚚ ⋆˙⟡𝓝𝓾𝓶𝓫𝓮𝓻 9

★ Number 9, ruled by Mars, problems, sorrow, yearning, beauty, and sweetness all mixed in a bittersweet pie…You have had a tough childhood, haven’t you? Yet you come out of all of it, the sweetest, the kindest, and with a gold-polished heart. You exude a tough exterior because you do not want to be hurt again but in the depths of your hearts you would NEVER wish bad on anyone. You’re just amazing like that. You make everyone feel at home but somehow always feel away from home. You are emotional and sensitive, even a tiny jab creeps into your heart, building a home for a train of thoughts that goes nowhere. But, despite it all, your soul is pure, your hardships do not define you, you are a being of love and greatness, you are spiritual and made for bigger things in the world. You are meant to touch the clouds and fly high above everyone else because you know it all…you have seen it all…

[thedivinetarot]

'Cause I like you quite a lot, it's you who I adore though I make boys fall like domino's

Who has a crush on you?

☆ How to chose your pile?

Close your eyes and clear your mind. Take a deep breath and ask the question in your head. And shall the picture you are drawn to the most be your pile.

☆ Disclaimer:

This is a general reading so take what resonates and leave the rest. In this reading I won't do an energy check since many of you are not resonating with it anymore.

Mood board from @divinationsanctuary19

Pile 1 - Pearls

☆ Who?/ physical description:

I see that this person has self esteem issue. I see them as someone who really might have confidence issues. And it affect their life in a really negative way. Okay, also this person is workaholic until the point of exhaustion. They may stay up at night because of tiredness. I see that they work a lot. This person might be a soulmate/twin flame of yours. This person might be a co-worker of yours. They have a lot on their plate. This person is someone who is really family oriented. Someone who values family and find emotional fulfillment within a family. Someone who is managing their family finances. They might have a family (wife/children) or they are spending their money on their parents. Or maybe this person is already married omg (this is so spicy I can't😭). The 10s cards are repeated twice so this person might be someone who is socially in a higher place than you. It also gives me boss energy, someone in a higher status with lots of money and resources. But they got it all from their work, their own work. Now with their physical appearance: this person has dark brown hair, brown or black eyes. Someone who look younger than their actual age. Someone whose physical appearance to them is a source of insecurity or they are closed off. This person's aura seems very calm and soothing. I see that their shoulders are slightly wide and their body proportions almost equal. Physically, this person is average like nothing really make them stand out and you can easily not notice them in the crowds. The thing (I'm going to add a note here) this person is happily married to their spouse/ wife. And they have a legacy with them but now we will know why they are crushing on you.

☆ How do they see you?

Will first I see that their first impression of you was quite sharp. They saw you as someone who is quick witted and quite sharp mentally. You might appeared very smart to them which really attracted them to you. They also got attracted to your confidence and your youthful spirit. This person physically saw you as someone who is cute and baby doll. I don't know why I got baby-daddy/mommy dynamic. This person sees your beauty now as soft and delicate. Like their first impression on you was nothing like how they see you right now. I see that right now they see you as someone who is delicate, sweet and pure. Also I got the 9 of cups which is quite weird position for it. Well, even though this person is married and have a legacy they see that you might be someone who is good for them or their wish fulfillment. In addition, your cold and aloof attitude draws them to you even more. I see that you make them remember someone, to them your aura is very familiar. You remind them of someone they used to know when they was younger. (Idk why I'm picking on someone who is OLD and established).

☆ Placements for you:

Pisces, cancer, Aquarius, Gemini and mars in Aries.

☆ How do they feel?

Well, I see that you took this person off guard when you appeared in their life. You wasn't on their plan and meeting you was something unexpected at all. I see that what they feel for you is quite delightful. I see that this person really get distracted whenever you are around. I see that when they see that you are around they stand and stare, a wave of excitement and emotions overwhelm them. They feel that they want to protect or get possessive over you. This person either fear those emotions or they keep them to themselves. I see that whenever you are around they get quite and just STARE and you. Like your whole presence put them at ease. They also feel giddy and happy but can't seem to show it off because it will put them in a questionable place.

☆ Placements for them:

Aries, Sagittarius, virgo, Gemini, Pisces, Capricorn. Or mercury, dominant for them.

Pile 2 - Doves

☆ Who?/ their physical appearance?

Well, I see that this person is quite sad. I feel like you see those guys who listen to lana? Beautiful but sad? he gives of the same vibe. I see that this person gives off the impression that they work so freaking hard but they don't get paid enough. You see those people who works in malls? At the cashier? I think also that this person might work in a job that really don't pay them enough. They look so tired and above all they are stubborn. They don't wanna let go of that job. I see that this person is very emotionally content on their own and also I see that there's a distance between you two. You might meet them when you are traveling. I feel like this person might work so hard to prove themselves but their efforts go unnoticed. Which frustrate them even more. I see that this person is quite smart and detached but their stubbornness is the only thing that cause them trouble. I see that they know when to strategically use their wit. They might be someone who is considered smart academically. I mean I got the king and queen of swords. This person whenever you see them they display a bitch face. Or they look grumpy. They look emotionless, no expression. I see that they got heartbroken before but they got over it and found peace with it. I see that they took the lesson and healed so don't worry that they will break yours. But anyways, I see that might build up a lot of walls around themselves so you can't hurt them again. Now for the physical appearance this person have brown to black hair. Or espresso black hair. Their eye color is definitely brown or hazel. I see also that they work out a lot. Their body is defined and considered fit. Their hair might be wavy or a little bit frezzy. They are average like from 5'3 to 6'0 (173 to 182 cm). Their face is always serious, they look angry all the time. They might also be an introvert too. Like you won't see them hanging out with more than 2 to 3 people.

☆ How do they see you?

Okay, first.... I see that this person see that you are someone who is apathetic. Like especially in work settings. They see that you should not be in the place you are in at all. This might be their initial impression of you. You might come off as someone who lack motivation or apathetic and even lazy. I also that this person might see you as sorceress 😭. I see that they see you as someone who is very alluring like... alluring emotionally. You might be someone with a lot of charms, like you know how to treat people with kindness and compassion. I see also that they see you as someone with a lot of calm and serene aura with a mix or confidence and authority. You come off to this person as someone who is confident, authoritative with a hint charisma and emotional maturity. I see that with alot of this they see you as someone who is a bit conservative about your social interaction, like you don't associate yourself with a lot of people or you keep your interactions limited. I don't know why I feel like this person really want to reach you but they feel like you are distant. It feels like they are reaching for the moon when they are dealing with you. Also, you might intimidate them with the way you walk. Like you seem sharp when you are walking, you don't look at people you only look at where you are going.

☆ Placements for you:

Gemini, Scorpio, Aries, Leo, Capricorn. Mercury, Mars, Pluto, Saturn, jupiter. Sun or moon in the 1st, 3rd, 8th, 5th, 10th house in the chart, Pluto and mars making aspects to your ascendant.

☆ How do they feel?

This person feels very at peace when they look at you. I see that since you have a very calming and trusted aura they feel very at peace with the thought of you. I see that they feel very confident that one day you'll be their wifey lol. They feel this unconditional love towards you, I'm not joking at all the cards are very positive. I see that the first time they interact with you might happen through text or a following request on social media. They might be so sure that they want you. I see also that whenever they look at you they feel this feeling that they can leave their bad days and heal from bad experiences. Maybe the thought of you put them at ease. Like your aura is incredible to the point that they feel very calm when they think of you🥺. I see that they have a hint of passion towards you too. They might act more energetic and confident around you just to get you to notice them. I hope that by now you knew them pile 2. Take care💕.

☆ Placements for them:

Fire placements (leo, Aries and sagittarius) , Taurus, Cancer, Gemini, Mar in gemini, Venus in taurus, Jupiter, moon, Venus dominant in their chart. Sun or moon in the 1st, 9th, 5th, 2nd, 4th, 3rd house.

Pile 3 - Hands of a lady

☆ Who?/ physical appearance

Well, that's huge but what I'm seeing is someone that is very skillful, they embody the magician card. Someone very skillful, very good at turning their wishes into reality. They are very strong individual with a charismatic aura. They might be student in your school or college. I'm picking up on someone who studies at the same institution as you and if not then they might have took the same class as you (doesn't have to be school or college it might be as simple as pottery class). I see that this person really travels a lot. And very successful in their work (if they do so). This person is very fair. When they love you they give more than they receive, someone who is selfless and patient. They might have forward thinking because they worry alot about the future. They also get very doubtful about opportunities and they sabotage it by themselves unfortunately. This person has a lot of potential, and skills but they are either too lazy or too doubtful to work on them. Now their physical appearance, this person is in their 20s as I said above they might be a college student or still in school. Hair is silky and straight and for a very little group here this person has curly hair. Their hair color is unique or they dyed it. Their natural hair color might be blonde and they dye it black or the opposite. The way that they carry themselves is very elegant. It gives off someone who is rich. Even if they are not rich their aura seems very rich and elegant. They might wear a potato sack and appear beautiful. They possess natural beauty. They might be sad too, or they appear sad or their mouth drop downward like this face (😞). They might wear a lot of green? Yes I guess so. I guess this person wear alot of green and it look fabulous on them. Eye color might be mixed, like you see that person whose eye color change with lighting? I'm getting brown greenish or green or brown or even hazel. Did it resonate with you pile 3? Tell me if so and take care💕.

☆ How do they see you?

Well, I'm getting that this person sees you as someone who is intimidating. I see that they get terrified whenever you are around. Also, someone unpredictable with sharpness around the edge. Maybe you are enneagram 8? Or ISTP? I see that you dress in a way that is quite edgy. Like not the typical good girl way of dressing. Something very black edgy and emo. But you beauty is very alluring to them. I see that the way you dress might be revealing? Like you might show your boobs or wear mini skirts or you intend on revealing lots of skin or cleavage. I see that they like your cleavage or your boobs. I see that it is the thing that really attracted them to you. This pile feels more physical and sensual, like this person's main focus in your physical body. I see that they really see that you are someone with very alluring beauty. Something like a siren. You put a lot of thought into your appearance. And you take care of your health and body. I see that you appear as a mystery to that person, someone who is beautiful, and mysterious. They see the potential of this to grow into something more lighthearted and healing.

☆ Placements for you:

Pisces, Leo, Virgo, Scorpio, Aries, Aquarius. Venus in virgo, harsh aspects between Mars and sun in your chart. Mars, Mercury, Sun, Moon dominant in your chart.

☆ How do they feel about you?

They want to come towards you. I see that they already thought about it and it seems very sure of themselves. I see a grand gesture, something carefree and diplomatic. They might gentlemanly help you in something you are doing so they can be close to you. I see that whenever they think of you a strong feeling of love and nurturing take over them. They want to take care of you. They feel also like your relationship with them is fated. Like you both are meant to be. I see that they try to move on from you but whenever they try they fall harder lol. You might not study in the same class but meet in the hallways and they feel very electrified whenever you are around. You see that feeling of electricity pass through you when you see your crush? They feel the same way. But generally, they feel very positive towards you. So, enjoy it baby💋. I hope you enjoyed the reading pile 3.

☆ Placements for them:

Gemini, virgo, Libra, Aries, Scorpio. Mercury, Saturn, Pluto, mars. 1st, 3rd, 7th, 8th, 6th house placements.

Pile 4 - Lady and sea waves

☆ Who? Their appearance:

Pile 4 is that your ex? I feel like this is someone who is very earthy. I mean someone who used to keep you close to them but now they are far away? I see that you had a fight with them and it was because of their possessiveness or jealousy towards you which was unbearable. I see if you are away from this person they want to start all over but in a tricky way. Like they might reach out to you in a way that might not hurt their ego. I see that even after this they are unsure if this is going to last or not. They just want you back. I see that they used to carry a lot of uncertainty and they felt super unsure of where things are going and now if they return it won't be how you expected? I mean this person hasn't changed yet and they do not intend to change. I mean they want you back just to prove to themselves that they can have you back. I think this person was dedicated? And all of sudden things just changed. I don't know if you should get back to them or not. I don't like their energy, it feels very tricky and deceiving. I guess that they are attached to you emotionally. They do not intend on breaking free out of this toxicity. This person is toxic they do not want to change and at the same time they want you back. Now for their appearance, this person might wear heavy clothes even during summer. Their hair is wavy or straight, I see that the color range from blonde to light brown. And they are pale AF, also for some they have a very dark undertone. I'm picking up on someone who wears a lot of white shirts too. This person has medium height and for some they are short lol. For their eye color mostly brown and other have blue eyes I'm not picking on anything specific could be hazel too.

☆ How do they see you?

Well, I'm picking up that this person see how emotionally distant and cold you are. You might have given them a lot of attention that made their confidence sky rock. I see that they know how much anxiety they caused you, they know that they are the reason that you are distant and cold towards them and other people. I kept typing void? So you might have filled the void inside them and they got attached? I got the devil card twice and no it doesn't have to be that they see you as someone who is sexy. They see that they are attached to you. I see also that you bring them a lot of anxiety. Because as I said before, because they are toxic; they know how tick you boxes and use you whenever they want. And they are very sure that you are going to satisfy their ego (please don't you are more than this). They give off the vibe of someone who is emotionally distant... avoidant to be more specific. They know how much they have caused you and doesn't intend on making things better, they want you because they are attached to you emotionally not because they love you so be careful pile 4 you are amazing🤍.

☆ Placements for you:

Aries, Gemini, Leo, Libra, Capricorn, jupiter, mars, Sun as dominant planets in the chart. Or those placements as sun moon or ascendant.

☆ How do they feel about you?

They feel very sure of themselves that you are going to fill up their void. I see alot of imbalances in this relationship, someone here is taking more than they receive and the opposite. I see that they have quite mixed imbalanced feelings towards you and they are not sure of how to deal with all of them. One day they feel like yes, they love you and they will do better and other times they feel like you are too much and they doesn't understand themselves. I hate their energy, maybe you are with them because you feel pity for them not because you love them. If you end this I assure you that you'll get better soon. I mean the general dynamic between you two is quite toxic and imbalanced. They don't know how to keep you and how to let you go so please be the reason for this to end. Sometimes, leaving is better than staying for something that is no good for you. Take care pile 4 💕.

☆Placements for them:

Taurus, virgo, Scorpio, gemini, Libra, Sagittarius. Saturn, Pluto, mercury dominant in their chart. Or their moon, sun or ascendant in those signs.

Post date: 30th of Nov/ 2024 - Sat

* Feedback is appreciated

[dodgeballstuckonthegymceiling]

ALL TOYS REACTIONS TO FINALLY HAVING A FRESH BATH AND MANY FRESH FOODS AFTER ESCAPING THE FACTORY

Along with them getting bandages and such for the wounds, etc. They'd be crying with tears of joy and thanking their angel a lot for it

(Prototype and Doctor is dead in that forsaken factory)

This! This ask is the kind of stuff that makes me love writing!

If you like my work, please consider commissioning me :)

Player who helped the toys in Safe Haven escape the factory

★ After the Player brings everyone into their house, an uneasy silence fills the room only drowned out by quiet murmuring. Nobody is sure what to do. Most had forgotten the warmth of a real home, having spent so long in a hostile environment.

★ Poppy is the first to speak. "Are…are you sure we can stay?" The Player nods, their gentle smile providing the comfort everyone needs. One of the other toys shyly asks, "Do you have snacks?"

★ They are all hungry, starving even. Fortunately for them the Player has a pantry stocked up with snacks. The toys, who had been surviving on scraps, are overwhelmed by the sight of so much food.

★ Since none of the toys know how to cook, the Player takes the lead in preparing a proper meal. It's been so long since they've had actual food. Not raw, questionably sourced, meat.

★ The kitchen becomes rather crowded, with the smaller toys peeking over countertops to watch the Player cook. Doey cried when he got a plate of food all to himself. It's been so long since him and his friends could all eat there fill without worries. No empty stomachs or dirty, unwashed plates.

★ Kissy was one of the last toys to enter the kitchen. She's hesitant, her eyes darting around the room, still not fully believing that they are truly safe. she examines each item in the room, curiosity getting the better of her.

★ She can feel her body relaxing for the first time in ages. The feeling of safety and comfort is almost surreal. Several of the other toys lean on her while getting comfy after their meal. A small cuddle pile forming.

★ You hate to ruin the fun, but all of them where in desperate need of bath. You couldn't let them stay dirty. By the time everyone is done getting washed up the bath water is a murky brown and the Player has run out of towels

★ The Player tends to any wounds, applying bandages when needed. Doey helps them with the band aid part. He doesn't think it's fair for the Player to do everything alone.

★ There is a lot of work to do before everyone feels some semblance of okay. Some of the scars won't fully heal, but that's a problem for tomorrow. It's been a long day and you need rest. Tonight, everyone is safe and sound, curled up in all the blankets you could find.

[lyrefromthesea]

HEYYY IIDK IFHOU TAKE REQUEST BUTTTT HOW WOULD THE HASHIRA REACT TO A HYPER ENERGETIC READER WHO IS ONE SECOND DOING 1 THINK THEN THE NEXT A NEW THING LIKE THEY COULD BE PAINTING AND THE NEXT SKY DIVING

I love your writing style hehe

Male pillars x Reader - the art of being too energetic

author's note: i hope this request is to your liking. truthfully, i had trouble writing it at some points.

pairing: Tengen x reader, Obanai x reader, Rengoku x reader, Sanemi x reader, Giyuu x reader, Gyomei x reader

content warning: none

Tengen:

where were you now? he swore you had been standing next to him a few moments ago. he looked around the streets, trying to spot you.

did you see a demon and moved forward without him? no, he would've heard it. he looked around the dark streets, not taking long to figure out where you went.

his feet dragged him towards the festival down the street. the area was filled with lamps and people wearing the prettiest kimonos or yukatas.

yet none of them stole his attention away from what mattered. you. you were in the middle of the crowd of dancing people. you spun around in fluid motions, a smile plastered on your face.

if it hadn't been for your uniform, you would've fitted right in. he moved forward without thinking, his hand soon grasping yours.

"now what were you thinking? we've been walking through the empty streets just a few seconds ago!" he said, his lips tugging up into a smile.

"couldn't resist, the music drew me in!" you laughed, twirling around him. he followed, both of you now dancing in sync. you didn't care for the eyes staring at the two of you. "are you mad?"

"you're too flamboyant to be mad at."

Obanai:

Obanai had been sitting on a tree, lazily watching you train. he didn't have anything better to do and you enjoyed his presence. however, when he looked down, you weren't training next to his tree anymore.

he looked to the side, flinching when you sat right next to him. "[name]!" he called out, looking at you surpised. he gave you a questioning look, waiting for your explanation.

"i found this." you answered, showing him a small acorn - or rather the rest of it. he looked at the cupule, you held it up by it's stem.

"and..?" he asked, still confused. it wasn't surprising to see you change your mood so quickly, but he found himself confused every time. especially now when you looked at Kaburamaru.

"and this!" you said, offering the snake to slither onto your arm. Kaburamu listened and Obanai watched in anticipation. the snake trusted you, just like Obanai did.

the cupule you held in hand was carefully placed on Kaburamaru's head, slowly pulling away to not knock it down. you blinked a few times and then looked at Obanai.

"it's a little hat! what do ya think?" you asked enthusiastically.

Obanai's eyes wandered between you and Kaburamaru, then back at you. "it's great. you should find him a scarf too."

"you're right!"

Rengoku:

"little flame? darling?!" he called out your name, desperately trying to find you. he had been sitting in the living room when he noticed the odd smell of smoke.

he had been worried sick, trying to find the source. his eyes widened upon seeing the clouds of smoke leaving your shared kitchen. however, when he ran inside, he was even more confused.

"darling..?" he asked, tilting his head to the side to get a better look at you. he could barely see it through all the fug, but he figured you were standing next to the stove.

when he came closer, he saw you more clearly - you were holding a bucket in your hand. his eyes fixed on the stove, hearing it sizzle quietly. it was wet and still slightly hot. he couldn't make out what had been in the pan, but it was burnt now.

"oh, Kyojuro!" you gasped, looking at the man. you hadn't heard him before. your eyes followed his gaze, your face growing red when you looked at the stove.

"i wanted to cook something, but then i remembered this book from a few years ago. i'm sure i had it somewhere around-" you babbled, stopping when you looked at him again.

you had expected him to be mad for nearly burning the whole house down, but he didn't look angry in the slightest. he took the bucket out of your hands instead, placing it to the side.

"let's clean this up first, we can search for the book later." he simply said, his motivated stance not leaving. you agreed, cleaning the kitchen together.

you only stopped when he suddenly spoke again, leaving you baffled.

"you know, i once burned my family's house down when i was smaller."

Sanemi:

Sanemi looked at you, your eyes staring back into his. his gaze hardened, daring you to move further.

"don't do it." he grumbled, his hands ready to grab you in an instant. if someone would've walked into the room, they would've surely questioned your sanity.

"i'm going to do it." you answered, giving him a mischevious smirk. his eyes narrowed, his body tensing up.

you had found a new hobby a few days ago, which happened to involve him. now he gave you his undivided attention when you were acting strange or gave him a knowing look.

in the blink of an eye you turned around and jumped backwards, Sanemi reacting immediately. he made sure to catch you in his arms, stopping you from falling and hitting the ground.

he let out an annoyed sigh, having caught you. again. he didn't even remember how many times it had been this week. "stop doing that!"

"you know you love it" you chirped, giving him a triumphing smile. he rolled his eyes, letting go of you.

but you were right, he did love it.

Giyuu:

"i want wagashi." you said, tugging at Giyuu's sleeve. normally, your request would've been completely fine, but now he was looking at you in disbelief.

"what?" he asked, stopping in his tracks. you came to a halt next to him, repeating what you've just said. "i want to eat wagashi."

he was at a loss of words. you had asked for daifuku nearly ten minutes ago. he had been walking to your favourite shop with you since then, knowing it would make you the happiest.

"we would have to walk in the opposite direction." he remarked, giving you a questioning stare. you blinked at him a few times, as if you were waiting for his answer.

he would've said no to anyone else, but he was used to your impulsive behavior. he couldn't explain why you made decision the way you did, but he thought of it as refreshing. he sighed, turning around on his feet.

"let's buy you some wagashi."

Gyomei:

"can i move now?" he asked. he had been sitting under the waterfall for about thirty minutes now. you had asked him to paint a picture of the moment, which he found himself agreeing to.

however, he hadn't heard anything from you since over fifteen minutes, making him question what was going on. the cold water of the waterfall hitting his back overshadowed most of the other sounds around him, but he managed to hear you stand up.

"Gyomei, i'm so sorry!" you apologized profusely, running towards the waterfall. he heard the splashs over your body pushing the water around you away, eventually feeling your hand pull on his.

"i completely forget about the painting. there was a cat and-" you stopped when you felt his head turn towards yours. you looked at him, wondering what could've made him forget about your mistake.

"a cat?" he asked, feeling you change the direction you were pulling him. it wasn't your strength to keep attention on one thing, but he couldn't care less.

besides, he shared your fascination over cats.

[siennasfantasies]

Couple of the Year: In the End, Love Overpowers Fame.

As the years passed, Katsuki's fame grew steadily. His name quickly became known in the charts, and despite not being the number-one Hero, his contributions were never overlooked. You, too, had your share of fame as an ever-rising supermodel. Despite the massive recognition both of you received, your private lives remained untouched.

"DYNAMIGHT!"

"DYNAMIGHT! OVER HERE!"

"ONE QUESTION, DYNAMIGHT! JUST ONE INTERVIEW!"

The Met Gala was always a spectacle, and every year, the crowd of paparazzi seemed to grow larger and more relentless.

"You know, with all your fame, I can't help but wonder when you're finally going to fall and fail."

Katsuki’s posture didn’t change, but his eyes shifted to the source of the voice. His anger flared at the sight of the man standing next to him, grinning smugly at the cameras. Yoshiki Kenai was tall, brunette, with perfect teeth and an annoying level of confidence.

He worked in the same modeling industry as you, and ever since you’d entered the scene, he’d made it his personal mission to flirt with you at every opportunity. Fortunately, this year, his advances were more restrained.

"I question your logic, Bakugou. Should you really be settling down so quickly when your job is so risky? It's a selfish decision, really. Your fame is honestly undeserved, a selfish wannabe hero is all you are." Yoshiki now turned his head toward Katsuki, his smirk widening as he awaited a response.

Katsuki knew his job was dangerous. Every mission carried a risk. But for Yoshiki—of all people—to lecture him? His blood boiled as he fixed the man with a scowl.

"What about you? Do you hear the crowd? You’ve got a lot of confidence for someone who’ll never gain recognition unless your in my presence. The people need me. I can't be replaced. You, on the other hand, can be." Katsuki spat his words through gritted teeth, his face twisted with anger. Despite his fury, his posture remained casual, hands tucked into his pants, stance relaxed.

Yoshiki’s smirk faltered, and his face reddened in a mixture of anger and embarrassment. Before he could fire back, Katsuki continued, his expression now calmer, though his voice still held a trace of irritation.

"At least you're smart enough to talk to me in front of the cameras. You know damn well that if you said this anywhere else, your ass would already be halfway across the world."

Katsuki turned his gaze back to the paparazzi, scanning the crowd slowly as he continued speaking.

"Smile bright, Kenai. Take advantage of this privilege. Maybe then you'll get some recognition just from being seen with me."

Yoshiki quickly walked off, his forced smile back in place, but his posture was stiff, and his cheeks were still burning with embarrassment.

"That was interesting," Kirishima said, appearing beside Katsuki, his expression a mix of amusement and mild concern. "Wonder how the paparazzi will spin this little interaction."

"Who gives a fuck?" Katsuki muttered, the faintest smile tugging at his lips as his earlier annoyance began to fade. His gaze shifted to you in the distance, gleefully interacting with the crowd. He was only at this event for you, and now, seeing you so happy, he didn’t regret it in the slightest.

"As long as that little fucker knows his place and stays away from me and my wife, the paparazzi can say whatever they want." You glanced over at your husband just as his eyes locked with yours, filled with affection.

You smiled at him, your eyes gleaming. No matter how many fans or events you attended, it was only Katsuki’s gaze that could disarm you so completely. Katsuki, too, realised how easily he folded when you smiled at him. Despite his fears about dangerous missions, it would always quickly disappear the moment his eyes met yours.

The next day, the cover of nearly every magazine and website featured you and Katsuki. You both stood a little apart, with Kirishima standing next to Katsuki. The crowd and flashing lights surrounded all three of you, but no matter the chaos, your eyes always seemed to find each other.

The headline read: Couple of the Year: In the End, Love Overpowers Fame.

Kirishima texted Katsuki in playful annoyance at being portrayed as the third wheel—though, in truth, he was always more than happy to play that role.

[moonchildstyles]

fender

it's 1976, and harry is the biggest rockstar in the world and y/n never thought she would have the chance to meet her idol. especially not like this.

wordcount: 12k+

—————

(Y/N) swore she could feel every note from the blaring speakers in her veins, her bones rattling from the base. Her skin was heated, a sheen of sweat covering every exposed inch. Bodies were packed all around her, dancing and jumping, hands in the air just as hers were. The bar of the barricade pressed heavily against her stomach, holding her back with a cool punch through her clothing. She'd never been to a concert by herself before, but she was finding she didn't mind the fact she was on her own, her dancing much more inhibited with her voice beginning to crackle from the sheer pitch of the screams she was letting out. 

Before her, up high on the stage with the bright lights cloaking his form, was her favorite rockstar. 

Harry Styles. 

In flared bell bottoms, and chest bare, he pranced across the stage, taking in every adoring eye trained on him. His trusted guitarist was shredding away on his neon orange Fender, taking care of the hard work so Harry could swagger about the stage with his microphone swinging in his hand. Sweat dripped down the blocks of his muscles, shimmering as if he had spread the glitter on his eyes over the rest of his body. His lips were curled in a lopsided smile, smug and cocky; he was more than aware of the fact that thousands had filled this arena just to see him. 

Another upside to having made it to this show by herself, (Y/N) didn't feel all that silly when she screamed that much louder when he strided over to her side of the stage. Dimples dented the rockstar's cheeks as he took in the adoration being flung at him from all sides. He scanned through the crowd, taking in every set of sparkling eyes and no doubt spotting every beautiful face that was more than willing to do just about anything for him. 

While this was the first time (Y/N) had the privilege of seeing Harry live (after having missed both his '73, and '75 tours, it seemed '76 was finally her year) it was no secret just how much love he liked to share with his fans. He never denied it in interviews and more than once photographs of women draped over him had come to light and landed on the front cover of tabloids, or anonymous sources sharing details of sordid nights in his bed. Whenever confronted with questions about those stories or who he was pictured with, he famously gave a dimpled smile and shrugged it of, saying something about how he fell in love easily and didn't shy away from the feeling. 

She wondered what she saw when he looked out at the huddles of people looking up at him tonight—if he saw someone he could fall in love with for the night. 

As the song continued on, it was time for his next verse though he didn't stray from this side of the stage. He brought the microphone to his lips, crooning his famous lyrics in perfect melody with the rest of his band. He put on a show where he stood as he sang a particularly suggestive line while trailing a hand down his bare stomach, hooking a finger into the waist of his pants to bring them down for a teasing peek of more skin before snapping back into place. 

(Y/N) felt her breath catch in her lungs, immensely grateful for how close she'd made it to the stage. She wouldn't have been able to see the thatch of hair he revealed had she been any farther back. Screamed erupted around her, Harry seemingly liking the reaction so much he had to pull away from his microphone to let out a bubble of laughter. By the time he went back to doing his job, there was a particularly smug smile on his lips with matching dimples and amused eyes.

He continued to sing even as pairs of panties and lacy bras were thrown up to the stage, women screaming for his attention with their shirts pressed up to expose their chests. He weaved around the set up, playing with his bandmates to the excitement of his fans. He soaked it all in with exuberant confidence, shining under the stage lights and he put on his show. (Y/N) felt breathless as she sang along with him, her bones rattling as the pit danced around her, pushing her harder against the barricade at her stomach. 

By the time the final lines of the song came around, he had made his way back to (Y/N)'s side of the stage. She and the fans around her danced and sang along, her voice scratching in the back of her throat as she gazed up at him. The tune ended in a flourish of drum beats, heavy and bone rattling through the arena. 

Harry finished with phantom punches to the air in time with the drum beats just before the lights went down for a flickering moment. His chest was heaving by the time the lights came up once more, his band breaking to take sips of water, his guitarist changing out instruments for another, just as flashy, guitar. The spotlight was dead center on Harry, his eyes casting far out to the rest of the packed arena before him. (Y/N) went her mouth drop into a gape as she took in the man before her—no photograph able to do him justice. 

"Everyone still doing good? Having fun?" his voice boomed through the speakers, gesticulating with his hands as if he could reach to the back stretches of the venue. The arena erupted once more, pitched screams calling for his attention. He let out a breathy laugh into the microphone. "I'd hope so," he crooned, "because I'm having a wonderful time. So many pretty faces—thank y'for coming to see me tonight." 

He reveled under the cheers given to him, going quiet as he turned his gaze down, to the pit closest to him. 

To where (Y/N) was standing right in front of him. 

His eyes lingered over the rows behind her before coming closer, stopping a little too close for comfort. 

(Y/N) didn't want to get too far ahead of herself, but was he looking at her?

"And what about right here?" he asked, bending down to one knee at the edge of the stage as if he wasn't close enough already, "Having fun?" 

Those around her burst into screams, pressing behind her as if they could surge through her and get closer to the rockstar. Her vision was vignetted with all the reaching hands attempting to touch him, fingers outstretched. (Y/N)'s reaction was stuck in her chest, her body stunned into paralysis with sweaty hands tightening around the barricade bar.

His only acknowledgment of the rest of the world came in the form of a quirked lip while his eyes stayed fixed to one spot. The longer she blinked up at him, no reaction, his smile grew, a brow lifting. 

Whatever view the rest of the venue was getting had another round of raucous reactions. 

Finally mustering enough wherewithal, (Y/N) nodded her head, her mouth still in a small gape. 

The quirk in his lips tilted that much more, a dimple settling in his cheek with a hint of the white of his teeth. "Yeah?" 

Though inaudible compared to the ruckus around her, she nodded her head with a parroted, "Yeah." 

His eyes lingered on her for a passing moment, the tip of his tongue peaking out to skim the blunt of his teeth. Around her, (Y/N) could feel the screams just as much as she heard them, the volume coasting over her skin and seeping through her pores.

"'M gonna make tonight the best night of your life, yeah?" he pressed, speaking directly to her though the world had their own view of the moment.

Another stunned wave touched (Y/N)'s bones, stuttering her lungs and knocking her breath askew. If she wasn't being delusional—something she couldn't be one hundred percent sure of—there was a chance Harry's eyes touched over the neckline of her top, following the line of her exposed skin. 

She gave him a small nod. 

He gave her another smile before rising to the full of his height once more, the stretch of his body on display. Waltzing over the stage, (Y/N) knew he was speaking, pointing out more in the crowd and doing what he did best by enchanting the masses and bending them to his will, though she didn't hear a word of it. 

The trail of his gaze left behind a warmth like he had touched her with his own hands, enough pressure lingering on her skin even when another song started up. 

Once the first verse of the song had played, (Y/N) felt her body come back to life slowly, the gravity of the moment beginning to turn into adrenaline. The man she had a hidden poster of had just made eye contact with her and told her he'd make her night special. Harry Styles had looked at her. 

Thank god she showed up early tonight. This barricade was now holy ground as far as she was concerned. 

Just as she began to sway along with the rest of the bodies around her, checking back into reality, the rockstar swaggered across the stage once more, taking his time to prowl before her. 

He looked out in the crowd, reaching far back before trailing closer to where she stood just in front of him once more. He shuttered a single eye in a wink to her with a stanza of particularly suggestive lyrics dripping from his lips.

This time she couldn't help the scream that bellowed from her lungs, only spurred on by the grin on his face.

—————

"See? If you ask nicely, y'get what y'want, don't you?" 

Harry's booming voice reawakened the arena. He was giving them the encore they had been begging him for once he exited the stage, the chants of his name being enough to have his band reenter with the rockstar himself following closely behind. (Y/N)'s heart thundered in her chest, cheers leaving her throat. 

Mourning the end of the show could wait another ten minutes. 

The opening notes of a new tune started, the shredding of the guitar screeching through the arena. (Y/N) couldn't take her eyes off of Harry as he pranced across the space, his jeans sitting low on his hips (at the right angle, she swore she saw a decidedly thick bulge at his crotch—more than just needing a readjustment).

(Y/N) only had a chance to hear the first few lines of the opening verse before a large man in all black came to block her view. If not for the fact she was currently—as promised—having the best night of her life, she would have thrown a fit. She instead attempted to crane her neck around this block and catch glimpses of Harry for the last few moments of the night.

"Sweetheart," he yelled against the bass coming from the speakers, "You're coming with me." 

Blinking, (Y/N) forced her gaze to settle on this man. Just as she feared, he was looking right at her as he spoke. 

Though she was largely unwilling to not pay attention to the concert of her life, she didn't think she had much of a choice in ignoring this man. 

"Me?" she enunciated, pointing at herself if he wasn't able to hear her right. 

"Yes, you," he said again, eyes trained on her, "Now. Before the end of the show."

Had she done something wrong? She couldn't imagine she was any more rowdy than the rest of the crowd (especially, as she still had all of her undergarments on and her nose clean), but she was the one being removed? 

"Why?" she sputtered, anchoring to her spot. 

The man's lips thinned, unimpressed with her pushback. "I've been asked to bring you backstage." 

(Y/N) blanched at the new information. "By who?" she pressed, not entirely believing this moment. 

The man sighed, his shoulders lifting. He caught her gaze, holding it as he jerked his head to gesture to the stage behind him. 

Right where Harry Styles was prancing about, low slung jeans and all.

She blinked at him, flicking between his enlarged gaze to the rockstar at his back. "Really?" 

"Yes," he insisted, "And I would like to take you now while we still have the space." 

(Y/N) didn't immediately move, switching her eyes to Harry Styles, in all of his glistening glory. The curls on the top of his head were slick with sweat, but still managed to flop so handsomely over his features. His tattoos shuddered over his skin, animating with every belting note and roll of his body. 

He had promised to make this the best night of her life, and she couldn't imagine any better way than to meet him backstage. 

With the help of the man in black, she crossed the barricade with the eyes of those around her following closely behind. He led her carefully around the stage and through different equipment on quick feet, the music being left behind with the private backstage area before her. 

Chancing a look over her shoulder, Harry, with his microphone cord coiled around his hand and sparkling eyes, winked at her once more. 

—————

Sitting alone in what she figured was Harry's dressing room, (Y/N) could hear the final encore being played through the walls. While a part of her was itching to run back out, to catch those moments she had been looking forward to from the second she had bought her ticket, she was practically bolted to her spot. 

All around her were small relics of the man out on that stage. An herbal candle sat with a pool of melted wax on the vanity table, anchoring down a blue cloth. Flecks of glitter seemed to stick to near every surface, leaving specks of light dotted across every surface, including the familiar container of makeup remover reflected in the mirror. A faded t-shirt was on the ground, next to a rumpled pair of athletic sweats. A bottle of cologne balanced on the edge, just a bump away from falling to the floor. 

Her fingers fumbled in her lap, her heart puttering in her chest. She was backstage at a Harry Styles concert after being requested by the man himself. Knowing his discography well enough, every note that rocked through the walls acted like a ticking time clock, counting down to the moment she would no longer be alone in this dressing room. 

Muffled through the arena, she heard the music crescendoing, heavy drumbeats and addicting guitar riffs ruffling the structure. Harry's voice played over the music, though it was clear he wasn't singing. Was he saying his goodbyes for the night? 

The thought had her heart jumping into her throat, head going blank. 

Should she stand up? Should she meet him up there? Would he like her outfit or was the cutout between her breasts too much? Oh god, what was she going to say? 

Her pulse was kicked into overdrive when she heard a ruckus start up backstage, more voices piping up than she'd heard in the last ten minutes. Harry's voice had disappeared from the muffled tone he'd had on stage, making her pulse kick up that much more. 

How close was he? Was anyone else going to come back here with him? Would he think her pants were stupid?

The long line of questions came to a halt the second the doorknob turned, the sound seemingly louder than the band playing the show out back on the stage. A muffled goodbye sounded on the other side before the first glimpse of the rockstar could be seen.

He was looking over his shoulder, speaking to someone she couldn't see around the broad strokes of his frame. His bare skin shimmered with sweat and glitter, animating his tattoos over the blocks of his muscles. The denim of his jeans were tight around his thighs though the waist still managed to fall some down his hips, showcasing a pair of leafy tattoos. He was saying something, a string of words that she missed completely over the roaring in her ears. 

It felt like hours, watching him say his final goodbyes to whoever, before he finally turned around to face her. 

Had her mouth already been dropped open, or was that just a side effect of seeing the green of his eyes up close? 

"Hi," he smiled at her, moving towards his vanity table to retrieve the blue cloth held down under the candle, "How are you?" 

Blinking, (Y/N) practically stumbled to her feet, her hands behind her back in a fumbling mess. "Hi. I'm good, thank you. How are you?" 

A small smile touched his lips, "'M alright, thanks. 'M Harry." 

It was (Y/N)'s turn to smile, a breath of laughter falling from her lips. "Oh, you're Harry! Got it," she attempted to joke, feeling one of the many strings tensing her shoulders being cut when he rewarded her with a bubbling laugh. "I'm (Y/N)." 

"Nice to meet you, (Y/N)," he shared, a single curl flopping over his forehead as he ran the cloth over his face and down his neck, "'M happy y'made it back here—was worried y'weren't going to come after seeing y'talk to Paul." 

"I was just a little confused," she explained, noting the way his eyes dropped to her lips as she spoke, "I couldn't believe you were actually asking for me." 

"No?" he pressed, raising a brow with a quirk to his lips. He leant against the vanity counter, giving her all of his attention as if he wasn't shirtless with a sweaty chest staring at her. "And why is that, hm?" 

Somehow, even without the amps and speakers booming throughout the venue, his voice held more impact in the quiet dressing room. The bass seemed heavier, his accent more drawling, the draw of his lips more alluring without a microphone in the way. 

"Um," she started, blinking the stars out of her eyes, "Just... There was a lot going on out there—I didn't think you could even see me over the lights—or the bras." 

Harry laughed, dimples popping into his cheeks with a light in his eyes. "Yeah, there was a lot out there tonight. Want anything before 's all cleaned up out there?" 

He gestured out the door of his dressing room while (Y/N) shrugged. "Maybe. Was there anything pretty?" 

The way he let his eyes drop heavily to her body, touching over the cutout on her top and the soft of her midriff exposed by the cropped fit almost made (Y/N) want to stumble back. When he dared to meet her eyes once more, he had a coy curl to his lips as if she hadn't been there as he dragged his eyes over her. 

"I can think of a couple of things that might look pretty on you." 

Despite the small laugh that puffed from her lips, her heart hammered in her chest. She hadn't wanted to get too far ahead of herself when she was first asked to meet him backstage, but it was hard to ignore the way he looked at her and still think this was nothing more than a friendly conversation. 

"If there's anything you don't want, I'll take," she countered, hoping he couldn't hear the sound of her heartbeat with the way it was rushing through her ears. 

The coy smile on his mouth turned into something more genuine then, amusement in his eyes. "Yeah? Y'saw anything y'think I need to take home?" 

Even with the squeeze of her lungs, the nervous pit in her stomach, (Y/N) saw her own opportunity being dangled before her. She hoped she came off as nonchalant as she pictured as she shrugged, canting her head with a slight lick of her gaze down his chest. "I think you look good enough right now." 

While there was still a lingering flush on his cheeks from the stage, the adrenaline clearly visible on his features, her words seemingly only fanned him hotter. The cloth he held was now dropped to the vanity, his empty hands coming to rest on the lip of the counter behind him. His arms flexed at his sides, veins popping out on his forearms. 

"Good enough for what?" he pressed, a spark skittering through his eyes.

He hadn't shot her down. He was flirting back. Oh, god. 

What would one of the women in the magazines say? How did they flirt with him so effortlessly to be invited for a fanciful—even if fleeting—night? 

"You tell me," she countered, the only syllables that were able to squeak through her throat. 

Dimples were deep in his cheeks by the time he turned around, collecting the bottle of makeup remover before pouring some on his cloth. He began wiping away the glitter as he found her eyes in the mirror. 

"The band and I are going back to the hotel with a few friends—maybe party a little. Y'wanna come?" 

Bubbling excitement like what she felt out on the arena floor reentered her stomach. A bright smile touched her features. 

"I'd love to."

—————

"Pick your poison, darling." 

(Y/N) didn't even know there were hotel rooms with fully stocked bars, but here was one right before her. A liquor tray behind the counter was decorated with plenty of bottles and decanters, more than half already missing gulps. Harry was acting as her bartender while the rest of the band and various guests were traipsing around the suite, the door to the hallway left wide open as they milled in and out. Music pumped through a set of stereo speakers, a member of Harry's band acting as DJ with various records and cassettes being switched in and out upon the players. 

More than one familiar face swept through the suite, people she'd seen in the crowd of the arena tonight alongside those she'd met backstage. Some left the bathrooms with wide eyes and sniffling noses, others with hair bigger than when they had gone in and lipstick askew with a partner behind them. It was nowhere near the kind of party she had pictured when following after Harry, but she'd never been around rockstars before either. 

Flitting her gaze over the various bottles surrounding Harry, (Y/N) canted her head. "Anything sweet." 

Harry hummed, a slight quirk to his lips as he started fiddling about the different bottles. "Should've guessed, hm?" 

"Why do you say that?" 

Leaning on the bar, arms folded underneath her chest with her breasts pushed up, (Y/N) watched with her eyes lingering on his hands. All of his stage adornments, including his rings, had been left behind when he changed into something decidedly less ostentatious for this party, leaving the length of his fingers bare for her eyes to feast upon. 

"Jus' had a feeling," he smiled at her, his eye falling into a wink. 

(Y/N) watched with the same rapt attention she had given him on stage as he mixed her drink. He pulled bottles of clear liquor together with various juices, working in smooth movements as a brightly colored cocktail came together. Everything he did came off as fluid and practiced, the same kind of ease he offered to the stage with every note he belted and swagger of his hips.

"We jus' got here," Harry murmured, knocking her attention from his hands to his amused gaze, "Y'can't keep looking at me like that unless you're ready for our night to end." 

Her breath caught in her throat. He'd told her earlier that this entire floor had been booked out for him and his band, but his room was at the very end. The biggest suite, he'd said—with a terrace and everything. 

Would it be so bad to find out what his room looked like so early?

Attempting her best nonchalant facade, (Y/N) shrugged, a coy smile on her face. It was enough to make Harry laugh. 

She could see him open his mouth to say something only to be cut off by a shout of his name from across the room. He whipped to face the call, the baby curls drying on the back of his neck giving a bounce at the motion. (Y/N) turned to follow his line of sight, seeing a semi-familiar face she had passed when backstage heading towards them with a beaming smile. 

"I didn't know you were here! Took you forever to clean up, I thought you were spending the night at the venue," the man joked, pushing long dreads over his shoulder. His dark eyes danced over to (Y/N) for a fleeting second, his grin widening. "Is this your friend Mitch was telling me about?" 

Rounding the bar with a fluorescent drink in his hand, Harry handed off the glass to (Y/N) (no ice, the crystal warm from his hand) before slinging his arm over her shoulder. She felt a shiver touch the bottom of her spine, though she used all of her effort to keep it pinned down.

Harry shrugged her closer to him, the side of her breast pushing against him through the thin material of her top. "Yeah, this is (Y/N). Met at the show—saw her pretty face right in the front row." 

Harry's friend looked at her with raised brows, amusement laced in his eyes as he followed the length of Harry's arm around her shoulders. "Yeah? Liked the show?" 

(Y/N) eagerly nodded, Harry's hold slipping from around her shoulders to be readjusted around her waist with a flex. She could feel his eyes on her face as he awaited her answer. "Loved it," she chirped, smiling with a cant to her head, "I've never seen him live before, so tonight was really amazing. I feel really lucky." 

Maybe she was laying it on thick—she already made it backstage with his arm around her waist, she didn't have to catch his attention anymore—,but she liked seeing the dimples denting into his cheeks as he listened to her. 

"I didn't know tonight was your first time," he mumbled to her, voice low as if they didn't have another person standing just in front of them, watching on with amused eyes. 

"I'd feel lucky too if I were you," the man continued, his voice lilting in a tease, "Most of Harry's friends never make it past the dressing room."

"Alright, Jay," Harry cut in, voice louder than a moment before as he suddenly steered them towards the end of the conversation, "I'll see y'later. Thanks." 

Jay only laughed it off, seemingly having achieved the reaction he wanted from Harry. (Y/N) didn't let herself linger on the motion of Harry's other friends—she knew she wasn't first and would most likely not be the last. Some of her wildest dreams had been reached just by meeting him, she could be happy with whatever she was granted tonight. Even if it was just that: one night. 

"Sorry," Harry murmured, saving face as he guided (Y/N) away from Jay and towards the sitting area where most of the musicians were huddled together with drinks and records splayed across the coffee table. She ignored the faint lines of white scattered over the recognizable covers. "He likes to get on m'nerves, I think." 

"It's alright," (Y/N) reassured, watching as Harry sunk into the one cushion left on the couch, "I thought it was funny." 

Harry raised a brow at her, a sly smile on his lips, "'M sure y'did. C'mere darling."

He gestured her to his lap, opening his arms for her to plant herself on his thighs. Looking at him with his eyes trained upwards at her, sparkling and a bit lazy after putting on an energetic show, (Y/N) felt her skin warm. She had to make a point to see from tripping all over herself to take up his invitation. 

There were eyes all around that watched as she took her spot on Harry's spread thighs, taking note of his arm wrapping around her middle to keep her steady. She had her own eyes down looking at her pretty drink as she hid the smile on her face. The cropped cut of her top allowed his palms to press against the bare skin of her waist, calluses roughening his touch from his years of playing different guitars. She was sure he could feel the line of goosebumps that rose in the wake of his touch, including the circuit his thumb started up around the waistline of her pants. 

(Y/N) brought her head up when she heard the call of Harry's name from one of the many sitting around the coffee table. The guitarist—Mitch—had his head tilted, looking at Harry with a sly smile on his face. 

"Mitchell?" Harry drawled, a teasing lilt to his voice as he pulsed a hand on (Y/N)'s waist. 

"Are you going to introduce any of us to your friend?" 

While Mitch and others in the circle didn't look particularly surprised to see someone on Harry's arm, it appeared Jay wasn't kidding with his comment about a rare few of Harry's friends making it past the dressing room. 

"This is (Y/N), everyone," Harry relented, his voice low despite the music blasting just behind them. Nonetheless, everyone gave him rapt attention as if he had a microphone in his hand. "(Y/N), this is everyone." 

"Hi, everyone," (Y/N) smiled, hoping she came off funnier than she sounded to herself,  "Nice to meet you." 

She could feel Harry laugh, his chest puffing from behind her. She took another sip of her drink, hiding her proud smile. 

Conversation bubbled up then, some words slurred and slow while others were rambling at a rapid pace. (Y/N) sipped her drink as she took in the environment, listening in as if she were watching a movie. Harry's rumbling voice was an anchor at her back, his hand on her thigh keeping her attention as she tuned into his voice. 

Behind her, he and Mitch were talking about the new customer Fender that was being made in Harry's honor. Perfect for the next album, she'd heard, the information brightening up her face. 

"What are y'smiling about, hm? Something funny?" Harry's lips brushed the back of her ear, his voice drifting down the column of her neck. As he spoke he shifted his hand up to land on her waist, giving the curve a tickling squeeze. She jumped in his lap, holding her drink tight to her chest as she let out a gasping laugh. 

"No," she smiled, turning to face him as he gazed up at her, "Just... New music? Already?" 

"'M always working on something," he murmured, keeping his voice quiet as if conspiring with her on sensitive secrets. 

Curling in his chest, (Y/N) could still hear the rivers of conversations flowing around them, eyes that landed on her as she cuddled up to a rockstar, but she kept her eyes on him. "Really? But you're on tour." 

He shrugged around her. "There's always something to write about," he told her, eyes dragging down her face until he landed on her lips, "Something worth making a song about." 

Her skin heated, feeling his gaze as if he touched her with his calloused fingers. Feeling his attention so heavily was like finishing her drink and standing on a rooftop over the city: exhilarating. How had anyone before her survived these kinds of moments—been bold enough to sit through them without taking down every second and memorializing it?

She wasn't sure what he saw in her face, but whatever it was had the corner of his lips turning upwards. A smug smile molded his features. 

"What did I say about looking at me like that?" he murmured, his words teasing though the grip on her hip was far from. 

Canting her head, she matched his gaze, his grip on her keeping her grounded. "I thought you liked it." 

In that moment, his eyes seemingly darkened, pupil dilating. If not for the rest of the noise around them—the music and loud conversation—she wondered what his instincts would have urged him to do. 

"I do," he crooned, shifting under her with his hand still on her hip. 

The way he moved underneath her had her position adjusted on his lap, pushing the curve of her ass right against the middle of his thighs. A hard ridge pressed against her. Emphasizing his point exactly. 

"Oh," she sighed, feeling breathless as if she were still flush against the barricade with an illuminated rockstar before her. It was that memory of him swaggering about the stage, picking her face out and singing the songs she'd listened to like gospel, that had a burst of confidence in her chest. That rockstar had picked her. 

Keeping her eyes on his, she whispered, "Can I hear some of the new music? In your suite?" 

She didn't have to elaborate any further, Harry catching on to the undercurrent to her words. A single dimple touched his cheek, his hand pulsing around her hip. "Let's go." 

(Y/N) stood first off of his lap with Harry following after, reaching to take her hand in his. 

"Leaving already?" Mitch piped up, his eyes dancing with amusement as Harry turned to face him. 

"Gonna show her some of the stuff we've been working on," Harry drawled, nonchalant as he began inching towards the door, "Back in m'room." 

"Coming back?" 

Harry glanced at (Y/N) then, a silent communication that had her sheepishly smiling. "Probably not." 

"Right," Mitch said, brows bouncing over his eyes, "See you in the morning." 

Without much ceremony, Harry made their getaway for the night, leading her out into the hall. Stragglers were stationed around the ajar door, some with a lingering powder under their nose, others with hair messed up more than what (Y/N) was sure was intentional, matching the smudged makeup. Harry only gave them an acknowledging nod before heading down the corridor with her in tow. 

It was a short walk to the door, though (Y/N) hoped to be able to recall every step down the hall, every beat of her heart against her ribs in the morning. 

"After you," he crooned, opening the door with a flourish as he stood to the side. 

She gave him a smiling nod as she crossed the threshold. The press of his gaze could be felt on her backside. 

Flicking the lights on, a true suite was presented to her. She could only see the bedroom through a cracked door. The main living area, though much more put together compared to the room they'd just left, it was still clear a rockstar was crashing there. Random clothing was strewn about the space, open suitcases full of stage clothing as well as casual pieces. A heavy boombox with an array of tapes scattered around it was placed atop the television. 

It wasn't nearly as bad as she had thought it would be, given the rumors of what rock stars got up to in hotel rooms, but she figured that was what the extra rooms were for. It wasn't much fun sleeping in a mess, especially when on stage every night with little sleep to boot. 

"Didn't have time to clean up today, sorry," Harry said, closing the door behind them.

(Y/N) smiled over her shoulder at him, setting her cocktail on the counter of the kitchenette as she walked deeper into the suite. "Too busy?" 

Dimples in his cheeks, he walked slowly as he followed her in. "A little bit." 

Stepping around the mess, she found herself by the sound system, rifling through the cassettes he had around it. The plastic casing gleamed in the light, more than a handful scattered on the television stand. A few familiar, newer albums stood out. 

Bowie, Station to Station. Queen, Day at the Races. Ramones' debut. Elton John, Blue Moves.

One empty case was beside the player, the cover flipped open with the tape missing. Flicking it back, the cover of ABBA's Arrival shone. 

"ABBA?" 

Behind her, Harry slipped an arm around her waist, looking over her shoulder. "What? Y'don't like disco?" 

"I do," she laughed, turning around to face him, "Just didn't picture you as a dancing queen, that's all. You look a little bit older than seventeen." 

Harry clasped his hands behind her back, his fingers pressing into the bare skin presented through the crop of her shirt. His features were softened as he matched her gaze, eyes hooded and heavy. "Does that disqualify me?" 

"Probably." She wasn't sure when they started whispering, when his fingertips on her back began to creep under the hem of her top, but she melted into his touch with her own hands settling on his chest. 

"Still like me?" 

It should have been annoying to hear him speak this way. It wasn't hard to detect the cockiness—near arrogance—in his voice; he knew the answer before he'd even posed the question. It should have turned her off and had her taking her leave. 

But, it only had the opposite effect. His confidence was a warmth hitting her stomach.

With him so close, their bodies flush, she didn't have to try very hard when she shifted her hips to feel the bulge in his pants pressing to the small of her stomach. 

"Yeah," she answered simply, voice suddenly breathless. 

Just as she expected, a smug smile had his lips curling. His hooded gaze traveled around her features, the tip of his tongue skimming the corner of his mouth.

"How much?" 

This was the moment, she decided. There was no way she was in a rockstar's hotel room, after being plucked from the crowd at his request, feet away from his bedroom, and not going to take the opportunity that was being offered on a silver platter. 

"I can show you." 

That had to have been what he wanted to hear, given the fact he surged forward and sealed his lips to hers. 

Unsurprisingly (not that she'd thought about it, or anything), his lips were soft, molding to the shape of her own glossed pair. He slotted his mouth to fit her top lip between the pillows of his two, the tip of his tongue slicking the seam. The smoky taste of the whisky he'd drunk back in the other suite lingered on his tongue, mixing with the sweet liquor of her own sips. 

His hands on her back flattened out, leaving on her bare skin between the waist of her pants and the cropped hem of her top, with the other slipping underneath. His palm was aligned with the knobs of her spine, spanning between her shoulder blades under the thin material of her top.

Tilting his head, he deepened the kiss as he pulled her closer. The soft sound of their lips parting and meeting once more filled his hotel room, slick and messy. His tongue snaked out, sampling a taste of her own when she opened her mouth just enough for him. (Y/N)'s chest shuddered. 

She was kissing Harry fucking Styles. 

She hadn't kept a diary in years, but she was going to have to crack open a new one just to write out every detail of this moment. (Though, she might leave out the bit about how ABBA's Dancing Queen got them there).

"What are y'smiling about?" 

"Hm?" (Y/N) hummed, hands traveling up his chest to follow the broad stretch of his shoulders. 

He pulled away, keeping his body close to hers as he gazed down at her. His lips were glossed with their shared spit, his pupils blown. "You're smiling. What's funny, hm?" 

His hand under her top shifted until he had his palm over her side, lining up with the ladder of her ribs. Goosebumps touched over her heated skin. 

"Nothing," she murmured, her own hands moving until she had his cheeks cupped in her palms. "Just... This is crazy." 

His eyes practically sparkled with the way she breathlessly spoke. Leaning close, he nudged his nose against hers, eyes slitted. "Yeah?" 

Gone was the smile on her face as she listened to the same voice that had soundtracked her life for the last handful of years. All while he looked at her with kiss-swollen lips and hooded eyes, his hard cock pressing through the material of his pants. 

"Yeah," she parroted, breathy with the word sweeping over his lips. 

It was his turn to smile, surging forward to smear his lips against hers. It was a lingering press, just a bit clumsy with the way his nose knocked hers. She was expecting him to tip his head and deepen the kiss once more, only for him to pull away. 

"I think I promised some new music, right, love?" 

Blinking up at him through her lashes, in a second she was transported back to the other suite, where she had conjured up the story of sneaking to his room to hear new tracks. That felt like hours ago—like she had been a different person back then. Someone who had never kissed Harry Styles before, at least. 

"Right," she smiled, playing along with the game he was proposing, "In your bedroom?" 

A smile grew on his lips. "Of course. Where else?" 

She let out a breathy laugh as she followed after him, hands twined together as they left behind the cassettes and strewn clothing for his darkened bedroom. Different from the rest of the suite, only lamps are left to light the room. Only a single standing lamp beside the rumpled bed was flicked on, leaving a small wash of light sitting on the messy sheets and the bedside table on the opposing side. The space holding a smokey sweet scent, matching the fragrance of his skin. A mess of unlabelled cassettes occupied the bedside table, with another more compact player off to the side. 

Shooting her a lopsided smile, Harry led her to the side table. His hand still in hers, he rifled through the tapes with his free hand. 

"What do y'want to listen to first?" 

The blank bricks held no indication of what could be on them other than a silver sharpie marking them as demos with different numbers. 

"This is your new music?" she murmured, eyes widening when she realized what she was looking at. 

"Mhm," he hummed, the weight of his eyes hitting the line of her profile, "Wanna hear m'favorites?" 

Looking at him through the fan of her lashes, she gave him a nod, pretending as if she wasn't as excited as she really was. She figured being giddy over a couple of tapes wasn't exactly a sexy look. 

Deft fingers pulled out a tape marked as Demo #4 before setting it into the player. Through the speakers, the sound was crackly and quiet compared to the records of his voice she had in her bedroom. The guitar started first, the chords wavy and psychedelic, the guitarist letting the notes linger as if they were melting through the speakers. 

Just as a familiar voice sounded over the notes, Harry pulled her flush to his chest with the help of the grip on her hand. His free hand cupped her cheek, his lips meeting hers in a clumsy mess. He fit her bottom lip between his two, immediately touching the tip of his tongue to the full center of her lip. (Y/N) didn't have to think before she had her mouth parted, letting him in once more. 

Letting go of his hand, she curled her fingers into the material of his shirt, clinging to him. She hadn't been aware her nails could be felt through the thin fabric until a shuddering breath rocked his chest. 

Walking her the short steps backwards, Harry blindly guided her to the edge of the bed. Her knees gave way to the mattress before she fell backwards, Harry following after with his hips fit between her thighs. 

The chains of his necklace dangled over the base of her throat, a cool point of clarity against the rising warmth of her skin. His hands skated down her sides, grazing the bare skin presented from the cut of her top. Her hips fit against his like a puzzle piece, cradling as he pushed against her core with lingering rocks. 

While his hands roamed over her form with their lips locked, (Y/N) took advantage of her position under him and locked a leg over his hip. Reaching up, she racked her fingers through his hair. The curls threaded around her fingers, a low rumble coming from his throat when she pulled just enough at the roots. 

The bass of his moan came just as there was a peak to his voice playing through the cassette player. (Y/N) was reminded she was making out with a rockstar to his own unreleased music. Her hips rocked upwards at the thought. 

Harry began to kiss down her chin, over her neck, and to the shelf of her collarbones while he fit the lengths of his fingers under the material of her top. Her bare skin sang for him, blood rushing through her veins. 

His lips travelled down until he hit the neckline of her shirt. "Can I take this off?" he murmured into her skin, the words sinking into her pores. 

"Uh-huh," she nodded, goosebumps rising when the tip of his nose brushed her neck. "Please." 

She could feel the way he smiled at her response, the curl pressed into her skin before he bit at the line of her collarbone. Her grip in his hair tightened at the short sting, her leg curling that much more around his hip. 

As promised, Harry, with his hands underneath her shirt, helped slide it over her head. Reluctantly, she pulled her hands from his hair and raised up from the bed long enough for him to slip it off her form and for the garment to become another piece of clothing puddled on the floor. 

Without a bra, her breasts were exposed to the buttery light of the lamp. Her nipples peaked in the cool air, her chest rising and falling with each breath she pulled in. Harry didn't wait before he lowered his face to her breasts, smearing his lips over the swells. He scraped his teeth along the plush skin, leaving tender marks in his wake. Her hands once again found his hair, burying her fingers among the strands. 

After a particularly harsh bite, she pulled his hair harshly. She could feel the sly smile that touched at his lips. 

"Feeling good, baby? Like it when I bite you?"

 She gave a clumsy nod of her head, mouth opened in a soundless nod. With her hands in his hair, she pulled him to her nipple, wanting the sting of his bite on the tender bud. 

He didn't immediately give in, only pecking a soft kiss to the peak before looking up at her through the frame of his lashes. "Want me rough? Like it like that?" 

Mindlessly nodding, she keened at the rumbling of his voice. "I like it rough," she bubbled, speaking over the unedited melodies of his voice. 

Instead of responding, Harry gave her what she wanted, his teeth scraping over her nipple. With her hands still in his hair, she gripped the strands at the roots, her back bowing into his lips. Her lips parted with a breathy moan. 

Harry took care of her, his mouth skating over her breasts. His teeth left tender spots—some she almost wanted to leave bruises—with his tongue following in the way, soothing the marks. Her stomach tightened with every wet press of his mouth, his hands sliding down to her hips. He played with the waist of her bottoms, his kiss following slowly after as he trailed down the soft of her stomach. The tip of his nose skimmed her skin, a tickling feeling rising in her chest that had a burst of laughter bubbling out. 

With his lips still attached to her, he peered up at her through his lashes. A slow smile stretched his lips, the curl pressing into her skin. 

"You're always laughing, baby," he murmured, "What is it this time, hm?" 

"Tickles," she laughed, the melody floating over the next track playing off of Demo #4.

A plume of his own rumbling laughter grazed her stomach, goosebumps raising on her skin. Cushioned by the messy, tobacco scented sheets, (Y/N) watched with laughter edging on her lips as he nuzzled into her stomach. He made a show of hitting the waist of her pants with his fingers hooked into the band. 

From between her thighs, he looked up at her with hooded eyes. "Gonna take these off, baby. 'S that alright?" 

"Uh-huh," she nodded. With his hair out of reach of her hands, she propped herself up on her elbows to watch as he worked, fingers curling into the sheets. 

With deft hands, Harry made quick work of the garment. It didn't take long before her pants and boots were on the ground beside her discarded top, leaving (Y/N) in nothing more than a pair of string panties. 

(It was done as a joke almost, when she was getting ready, to pick panties as if she was going to be showing off for someone after the show. She'd never been more grateful for that delusional choice).

Harry was still fully clothed as he took his place once more between her legs, laying the broad of his body flush to hers. Her breasts were pressed into the solid blocks of muscle of his chest, only the thin material of his top separating her skin from his. He sealed his lips to hers once more, getting a taste of her tongue against his in broad strokes.

It was her turn to start stripping him, keeping her mouth to his as she plucked at the neckline of his shirt. 

He pulled away with a breath, lips spit-slicked and kiss-swollen. He looked all too satisfied with himself as he gazed down at her, pulling off his shirt. Throwing it somewhere in the room, (Y/N) didn't have a chance to catch the landing before he was crowding around her once more. 

"Trying to get me naked?" he murmured, a teasing thread through his tone, "Think 'm that easy, love?" 

"I'm hoping," she smiled, pecking a messy kiss to the corner of his mouth. She could taste the smear of her lipstick on his skin. 

Chasing after her mouth, he trailed his lips over her cheek, following the line of her cheekbone. Whispering to her, lips brushing her ear, he said, "Y'want me, baby? Tell me." 

Between the press of his covered cock against her pussy, the rumble of his voice through her chest and against the shell of his ear, her eyes fluttered to a close. Her mouth was dropped in a gape, her breathing stilted. 

"I want you," she said, suddenly breathless, "I-I've thought about this before." 

She could hear the smirk in his voice. "Yeah? What've y'thought about, baby?" 

"Yeah," she repeated dazedly, sucking in a harsh gasp when ground down hard between her legs. "I—um—I wondered if all the stories were true. If-if you are really like how everyone says." 

"Is that why y'dressed like this tonight? Hoping you'd find out for yourself?" 

She didn't want to melt over how cocky he was, how sure of himself over assuming she had dressed with him in mind. But, he was right—she wanted him to at least see her, remember her if she was lucky enough. Only in her wildest dreams did she imagine her cutout crop top and tight pants would land her here. 

With her eyes still closed, she nodded her head. "I wanted to know if your songs were true." 

"Which ones?" 

"The ones," she stalled when she felt his hand slip between their bodies, tickling over soft curves of her body until he reached the apex of her thighs.  "Um—the ones about... You sing a lot about eating pussy." 

His laugh was warm, bubbling over her. "I do, don't I?"

"Almost two albums worth," she teased, a lighthearted tone running under her words before she was cut off. 

Between her legs, he made no ceremony of the way he pulled her panties to the side and dragged his fingers through her folds. It wasn't until he split her open that she realized just how wet she'd become. Slick noises from between her legs filled the bedrooms, two of Harry's fingers slipping through her slit in long strokes, prodding at her weeping hole and nudging her clit, in a smooth circuit. 

"What did y'think about when you'd hear those songs?" Harry asked as if she had any mind left to comprehend anything but his touch.

Squeezing her eyes shut when he circled her clit in a teasing touch, she dug her nails into the strapping muscles of his biceps. Under her hands she could feel the way the hand between her legs had his arm flexing with every movement.

"Huh?" 

Through a smile he pressed a messy kiss to the space before her ear. "What did y'think about when y'had your fingers in your pussy?" 

The blunt wording had her insides tightening, a squeeze she was sure he could feel as he brushed over her opening. 

"How did I fuck you in your pretty head, hm? Tell me, baby." 

Her mouth had a mind of its own as she started blabbering off without a thought. "Hard—You'd fuck me hard. I-I'd let you do anything to me, daddy." 

His hand between her legs lagged, lingering close to her clit but not close enough. "What was that?" 

"What?" she mumbled, turning her head in hopes of catching him in a kiss. 

Harry pulled away, just out of reach though he kept his hooded eyes on hers. "What did y'jus' say?" 

Blinking at his question, she attempted to cast her mind back enough to catch any memory of what she said. It dawned on her slowly, the kind of word she let slip from her imagination and into the real world. 

"Um," she floundered, skin flushing in a different way than just a heartbeat before. 

His smile grew, lopsided and entertained over her tied tongue. Leaning over her, he nudged his nose against hers, the full of his lips just barely brushing over hers. 

"Y'called me daddy." 

(Y/N) didn't say anything in response. Her hands tightened around his biceps. 

"Say it again, baby." 

Her mouth dropped into a gape. He wanted her to say it again?

"What?" 

"Say it again," he murmured, his voice melding with the crackly tape soundtracking this moment, "'S alright—I know y'want to." 

How was she supposed to say no to that?

Hyperaware of the way her voice wrapped around the word, she hoped it would be just as intriguing to him this second time. 

"Daddy." 

A rumbling moan left his chest just before he dove down, slotting his lips against hers in a messy kiss. Between her legs, he didn't hesitate before he slipped his fingers inside. The length of the digits were fit snug inside, opening her up as he gave a few cursory thrusts through. She could barely even kiss him back, her face screwing up in pleasure at the jolting touch with her lips parting. Harry slipped his tongue inside, licking over her own as he stroked his fingers through her pulsing walls.

Her breathing completely stalled when he curled his fingers, the calloused pads pressing into the spongy spot hidden among her walls. There were only a few times when she'd had the patience to find the spot herself, her memories of the sensation paling in comparison to what was happening to her now. Instinctively, she wanted to close her thighs, keep his hand from moving anywhere away from her. Harry's free hand came down and cupped the soft inside of her thigh, and splayed her legs open wide for him. 

"Again," he ordered, the command falling on her tongue. 

It didn't take a single thought before she was falling to his instruction. "Daddy—fuck." 

"Feel good, baby?" he crooned, breathy and heated against her mouth. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she whined. 

"I bet it does," he teased, "Can barely keep still for me, huh? For daddy?"

 Her stomach wound itself tight at the sound of his accent, the same voice she'd listened to through her headphones and the crackles of her record player, wrapped around the title. This was what her fantasies were made of. 

"Liked that?" he drawled, a sly smile working onto her lips, "Could feel how much y'liked that. Is this what y'thought about when you'd fuck yourself, baby?" 

Rocking her hips up into his hand, he never lagged on circling the spongy wall inside her, only breaking when he opted to thrust deep inside to keep her on edge. His palm was pressed headily against her clit, the heel smeared heavily over it with every lingering stroke through her insides. 

"Al-always you," she breathlessly admitted, "Always wanted you there with me." 

"I know, baby. Y'need me, huh?" 

"Yes, daddy," she panted, eyes rolling to the back of her head. 

Dropping his forehead to rest on the apple of her cheek, she felt Harry's own heavy breaths  sweeping over her heated skin. "You're gonna come for me, baby. I want y'to come on m'fingers, then 'm gonna fuck you like y'want."  

He didn't give her any room to respond as he kept his palm heavy on her clit and drilled the pads of his fingers to the sensitive spot inside her. He didn't relent, her senses becoming overwhelmed with nothing but him. Even the sheets smelled of him, there was nowhere she could turn without finding more of him to pull in. 

Her toes curled as she allowed herself to sink into the pleasure brewing in her stomach, her nails digging into the flesh of his biceps. She could feel her insides tightening, ribboning together in a contracting bow. (Y/N) wasn't even sure if her lungs were working around the pounding of her heart, her breathing shallow. 

Suddenly, the pleasure she was feeling and floating in was too much. Her muscles were bunched almost too tight, snug around his fingers and sucking him in as if there were more to be taken.

Letting go of his arm, she reached for his wrist for an anchor. "I—Wa—Harry, I—" 

"I know, baby, I know," he breathed, shifting until he caught her swollen lips in a kiss, "You're gonna squirt f'me, yeah? Make a mess with me." 

"I—I've never—I can't—"

"You can. You can and you will, baby. Squirt for daddy." 

The culmination of the way he talked to her—the rockstar she'd admired for years—the weight of his body pinning her to the mattress, the sound of his unreleased music filtering through the heated room, and every stroke of his fingers through her pulsing walls had her giving way to his command. 

(Y/N) swore every bit of her body bunched, her hand tight around the bones of his wrist, toes curls, and eyes squeezed shut. Harry never relented, working her through the heaviest weight in her stomach. In a heartbeat, everything her body was squeezing, holding inside herself, let go. 

A gush came from between her legs, rushing out around the plug of his fingers in her pussy. Every shallow motion of his hand against her went from slick to completely wet sounding, every beat of his fingers coaxing another rush of cum from her. 

With her mouth dropped in a wordless gape, (Y/N) felt Harry's eyes on her with the way her skin buzzed, hyperaware. Her mind was cast elsewhere, miles away with her body anchored right where she was underneath him. She wasn't sure when she would come back—if she even wanted to with the way the feeling washed over each of her nerve endings. 

"Look at that," he murmured in awe, his voice finally sounding like more than a rumble through the rushing heartbeat in her ears. "Jus' like I asked. So good, baby. So good f'me." 

The descent was slow, the aftershock of her orgasm lingering in her bones until it finally relented enough for her to crack her eyes open. Harry looked down at her, satisfied with dark eyes trained on her features. With a jolting touch to her clit, he pulled his hand out from her pulsing walls, leaving her swollen and sensitive between her thighs. 

She could feel the inside of her thighs slick with her release, Harry's hand that landed on her hip just as sticky. Dipping his head down, he caught her in a languid kiss, nose nudging the bridge of hers. He was a bit too proud of himself, she thought, a dazed smile touching her lips. 

"Told you, y'could," he mumbled into her kiss, "Gotta listen to me more, hm?" 

"Maybe next time," she sighed, too out of it to try too hard to play along. 

"Maybe, next time," he repeated, letting out a plume of laughter for the both of them. Letting go of her hip, she could feel Harry fiddling with the waist of his pants, fingertips brushing against her sensitive core. "Ready f'me to fuck you? 

Her lashes fluttered in a blink, remembering his promise of giving her more tonight. Peering down at where his hands pushed down the band of his pants, she watched as his cock bobbed against his toned stomach. It was flushed red, head ruddy and slick with a vein vining along the shaft. A pearl of precum clung to the blocked muscles of his abs, where the length hit high under his navel. 

Just the sight of his hard cock had her stomach twining once more. Truthfully, she wouldn't have imagined anything less—not with the way he carried himself. 

"Baby," Harry sang, grabbing her attention, "Are y'ready? Gotta say it—tell me y'want me." 

Whatever he saw on her face was enough to have a dimple denting his cheek, more than satisfied with the desire in her eyes. "I want you," she said, despite the quivering muscles in her thighs, "Please, daddy." 

His features shifted at her words, darkening as his eyes dragged heavily over her body. The way he looked at her was enough to have goosebumps on her skin, lungs squeezing. 

"Think 'm gonna fit?" he crooned, fisting his length as he dragged the crown through her slit. 

Before she could answer, he laid his cock against the small of her stomach, lining it up to show just how far inside he would reach once sinking in. His balls pressed against her clit, setting a jolt up her spine. She could feel him throbbing, matching the rhythm of her heart. 

"We-We'll make it fit." 

His laugh was melodious, lighthearted amongst the atmosphere cultivated between them. He cut himself off when he reared his hips back and nudged the head of his cock against her opening, a soft wet noise slicking through the room. Nothing seemed to be too funny, then. 

Reaching for the wrist to the hand keeping her thighs spread, (Y/N) anchored herself to him with the grip. She felt her walls split open as he pushed through, the flare of his head nudging through the squeezing pulses. A lingering whine sung from her throat, breathless and pitched.

Harry seemingly held his breath as he bottomed out inside her, his base smearing against her clit. He reached the farthest parts of her, crowding in her stomach.  A whine of his name fell from her lips, her head falling back into the mattress with her eyes falling closed. 

Falling over her, Harry rested his forehead on the shelf of her collarbones, a heavy breath fanning across her heated skin. The press of his body atop hers was a comforting weight, keeping her wriggling form steady among the sheets. 

A whispered curse was felt against her skin just before Harry reared his hips back. The slide of his cock through her walls gave a pleasant burn, reminding her just how far she was stretching to fit him in. The slick of her gushing orgasm was more than enough to help him through the pulsing, wet noises sodding from where their bodies joined. 

Just as she adjusted to the slide of his length, Harry thrusted forward once more, keeping her stretched around him. He curated a rhythm, spearing through her in lingering draws. The breath was knocked out of her everytime, matching the heavy breaths Harry panted. 

"So wet for me, baby," he murmured, voice strained, "Fuck—Gonna make y'squirt for me again, yeah? Gonna do it again for daddy?" 

A loud moan filtered from her, reverberating through her chest with her head thrown back. This wasn't going to take long, she was sure. She was already twisted up inside, incredibly sensitive given the kind of pleasure he'd given her just minutes before. Every time he pulled out, leaving just his tip inside, the ridge ground against the spongy spot hidden between her walls. As soon as he sank inside, her clit was pressed against his base. Each touch stole her breath, lungs stilted. 

"Uh-huh, uh-huh," she frantically agreed, "I—I'm so close—fuck."

 "I know y'are," he crooned, teeth gritted, "'M gonna—Where do y'want me, baby? 

Her answer was immediate, a breathy moan, "My tits."

She could feel the way he twitched inside her, nudging hard against her snug walls. "I can do that for you, baby. Is thi-this what you've thought about—what y'wanted when y'came to m'show tonight?" 

Reaching up and looping her arms around his neck, she pulled him close once more, their mouths resting against one another though there was no energy to be had to turn it into a kiss. "You made me so wet during the show," she admitted, the words sweeping across his mouth, "I wanted you to fuck me so bad." 

His hips bucked harshly against her own. "As soon as I saw you," he started, his voice graveled, "I knew I was taking y'home tonight." 

He caught her in a kiss, messy and off-centered. He plucked his teeth against her bottom lip, the sting running down her spine in a clarifying jolt. She wrapped her legs around his hips, ankles crossing behind his back as he kept her close, disrupting his rhythm. Her toes curled as his thrusts turned into lingering rolls against her, shooting his head deeper. 

This time, the growing spiral in her stomach came on quickly. The knot she was now familiar with built quickly, heavy and tight with every grind of his base against her clit. It was all too much, enough to have her crying into his mouth. 

"Squirt for me, baby," he murmured, coaxing her closer to the edge with every rumble of his voice, "Show daddy how much y'want me." 

She didn't have to think—unable to think—her orgasm came rushing. Though it wasn't quite as messy as the first time, she could still feel the gush between her legs, fighting against the plug of his cock. It was hard and fast, knocking the breath out of her to leave her mouth dropped in a silent gape. 

It wasn't until she was beginning to see the other side that she heard Harry's voice, a string of curses, coming out through gritted teeth, could be heard. She was still high in the clouds when he pulled out, shifting up to his knees on the bed until he was hovering above her. Cracking her eyes open, she could see the same wild look in his eyes that she was sure was in hers, dazed and out of this world. 

Fisting his length, his hand squelched along his shaft for only a handful of pumps until his cum gushed over her. Just as she asked, the ropes landed across her chest. Her skin was already heated enough, but the trails he left over her breasts were that much more. The sight of him working his own cock was enough to have her breathless once more, though her body was too sensitive to feel anything but a jolt through her nerve endings. 

Harry with his head thrown back, moaned out her name and strings of curses. Even these moments sounded like notes, perfect for setting to music. 

Once the world came back into focus, (Y/N) could feel cum drying on her chest, her own wetness sticking to the inside of her thighs. Harry dropped to the mattress beside her, chest heaving and flushed. His eyes were closed though his head was turned to face her, raspberry lips swollen and parted. 

With the limited light from the lamp, he was bathed in buttery warmth. His chest sparkled with a sheen of sweat, droplets having run between the blocks of muscle underneath the inked lines of his tattoos. 

He took his time joining her back in this moment, his eyes shuttered closed as he ran her eyes over his features. If she had a camera with her, she would have had to take a shot of this—the moment pretty enough to end up as an album cover. The haze in her head did little to stop her from reaching out and tracing her fingertips over his face, just barely grazing her skin in glancing touches. 

A blooming smile made its way onto his lips, dimples denting his cheeks.  

"C'mere," he murmured, voice graveled and rocky. 

Despite the drying cum on her skin, Harry welcomed her into his arms, settling her against his chest. Holding her close, he nosed at the top of her head, uncaring about the sweat entwined in the strands of her hair. 

(Y/N) practically melted into his hold. She hadn't expected cuddling was a part of the package tonight. 

Her body grew heavy in his hold, the night's events catching up to her. Even without everything happening in this hotel—from the party to being invited into his suite—she had also been to a concert tonight, flush to the barricade. Her body was spent, even if her head pinged with reminders of just who had made it that way. 

It wasn't until the crackling stopped that she realized that the tape finally ended, needing to be replaced or turned to the other side. She couldn't even be bummed that she missed out on these unreleased tracks. She'd hear them again someday, probably. She wouldn't have this night again. 

She wasn't sure how long they laid with one another, cuddled and messy, before Harry's voice poked through the silence. 

"What are y'doing this summer?" 

A plume of laughter left her lips. Now was the time for small talk? 

"I don't know," she smiled, "Why?" 

Playing with the ends of her hair, Harry's tone was casual as he spoke, "Well, m'next show is this Saturday. Y'coming with me?" 

Her heart lagged. 

"What?" 

It was his turn to let out a breathy laugh. "I want y'to come with me, love. We could do this every night for as long as y'want." 

Before she could think better of it, another question blurted from her lips. "Why?" 

Harry paused. "Y'make me laugh—and cum faster than I should, but don't tell anyone that." 

In the dark of his suite, clothes puddled on the floor and bodies sticky, (Y/N) couldn't wait to pick up a diary just to write out how they laughed together. 

"You're that easy?" 

"I suppose I am, love." 

—————

its been a super long time since I wrote something with the plain intent of writing smut so I hope this turned out well shufshfuhs thank u sm for reading, sorry for any mistakes, and please lmk if you have any fun ideas or requests!

[ryescapades-archived]

congratulations on 1k! i'd like to request for slice one + bakugo katsuki / karasu tabito + sfw + prompt 19 "do that again" ! i love both of them so you can pick whoever :D

→ EVENT OVERVIEW

prompt: 19 - “do that again.” characters: bakugou katsuki (mha) x gn!reader contents: fluff, established rs, reader is physically smaller, petnames, kats in his timeskip, ticklish!reader ^^ wc ~ 700

a/n: tysm for participating nonnie! first time writing for kats btw yeee (his timeskip appearance did something to me oughggk)

the sound of the door opening catches your attention, and your voice dies down as you swivel your head back to look at the source of interruption.

“oh? is your man back?” a crackly tone comes from the video call you’ve been doing as your friend’s teasing from the other side goes ignored. you spare them a quick look, “yeah, he is. so i’m hanging up now, bye!”

you don’t bother to listen to their complaints as you end the call, letting the screen fade to black before turning back towards the incoming person. a giddy smile grows on your face as you take in his form clad in that tight, dark compression shirt that accentuates all those delicious sinewy muscles of his, “katsuki! didn’t think you’d be back this early.”

your boyfriend doesn’t give you a response as he closes the door behind him, walking towards where you’re standing inside the joined bathroom, door wide open with a row of skincare products sitting back by the sink. you’re in the middle of rubbing some moisturizer on your skin when a pair of sturdy arms snakes around your waist, katsuki’s figure appearing in the mirror in front of you.

“how’s your day, baby?” you greet, fingers drawing the fragrant substance in circles on your cheeks as his head of blonde brushes against you. katsuki rumbles out a hum, “‘s fine. missed your cute ass the whole time, though.” he gruffly says, giving you a little pat on the side of your hips.

you snort slightly, already used to his random touches. “my friend just told me that you’re the biggest sap ever and i couldn't agree more, you know?” you say, throwing him a knowing look in the mirror. “that so?” he mutters back, distracted by the slow and methodical way your hand glides over your own skin.

“mhm,” you affirm, feeling him tighten his hold on you which causes a small grunt to escape from your lips. “you stink, kats.” you jest, scrunching your nose up in a cute way that had him almost squeezing the life out of you from cuteness aggression.

katsuki raises a questioning brow, chin now tucked on your head as his crimson gaze roves over your face. a thought seems to pass over his mind then, his head lowering to bury itself into the crook of your neck before he nuzzles deeper to take in your homely scent. “'m making you stink even more,” he huffs, breath hot against your skin.

“wait, katsuki–” your protest is cut off when you erupt into a fit of giggles instead. “stop that, hahah– it tickles!” you didn’t notice it earlier, but it has been quite a while since he had last shaved, courtesy of the nature of his job. the slight scruff of his stubble bristles on your neck, making you raise your shoulders to push him away from your sensitive skin.

you’re all the more unaware of how his eyes dilate as the gentle sound echoes around the walls, his ears directing towards the lilted tone of your joy. “do that again,” he breathes out quietly, going back to snuggle his face into the junction where your shoulder and neck meet.

you snort, still coming down from that split second of whimsy, “pfft– do what, katsuki?” you turn your head over to look back at him, a look of incredulous passing over your features as you try to read his expression. his vermillion eyes are heavily lidded as he looks down at you, gaze softening and lips tugging up at the corners to form a lopsided smirk.

not even one second later, you’re suddenly spun around and carried up onto the counter which elicits a stunned yelp out of you. he crowds into your space, standing in between your parted thighs as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “come on, sweets. let me hear it.”

“huh? hear what–” katsuki gives you no warning before his hands settle on your waist, giving you no mercy as he tickles you to oblivion.

your laughter now freely spills out, vibrating from your chest to his and resounding through the bathroom as he continues to draw out that delightful melody from your mouth. he can feel himself recharging from that alone, the weight lifting from his shoulders and all that prior fatigue from work quickly disappearing as his head swims in the aftermath of your glee.

fuck yeah, even if he dies right now, it wouldn’t be so bad because he gets to listen to the sweet sound of your happiness before he breathes his last.

©🅁🅈🄴🅂🄲🄰🄿🄰🄳🄴🅂. do not steal, translate or repost my work anywhere else !