#for an old drawing request but i couldn’t find it in my askbox :(

[anistarrae]

they thought they were funny

[ressyfaerie]

Request: I saw this tattoo programme where 2 lesbian friends went on and they got to pick the other's tattoo and they can't look till it's done. One picked "you mean everything" for the friend and she was so worried about her seeing in case she hated it. Then hers (from her friend) was "I love you". This had them all emotional and got them both to confess & get together. Anywaaaay, a similar idea for Tyka?

Sorry for the late response! I’m working again and still recovering! This is the LAST FIC REQUEST of this askbox being open!

Soooo likkee. Once upon a time I talked to someone about a tattoo shop AU? This gave me some serious inspiration sooooooo here we gooooo

Halfway through I remembered! I (mentally?) based a lot of this idea on @ishkajules tattoo tyka shop AU!

Oh, disclaimer, I want a tattoo but know NOTHING about them aaaahhhahaha

“You’re a great artist, but you’re scaring away your clients.”

“Why do you care, Tala?”

“I don’t. They come to me after you reject them, or make them so uncomfortable they sit in the next chair over.”

“So then, why are you telling me this?”

Kai cleaned his equipment. It was nearing the end of the day, he figured he wouldn’t have any more walk-in customers.

“I just thought I’d let you know. You’re losing us money. If you don’t fix it, I’ll change your pay to commission only.”

Kai scowled. Who did he think he was? Threatening his pay like that?

“Like I said. You’re a phenomenal artist. But you're lucky I hired you. No one else will with your personality.”

Kai gave him a glare, “I’ll try to do better, boss.”

“Good. Keep that mouth in check.” Tala gave him a ‘I’m watching you’ gesture.

As soon as he turned away Kai rolled his eyes.

The bell in the shop rang.

“Hello! Welcome, how can we help you?” Tala welcomed the new customer with his regular fake friendly greeting.

“Hey... I’m Tyson.”

The kid seemed nervous. He didn’t have any art on his body.

Blank canvas.

“Um. Is Kai here?”

“Kai? Are you looking for him specifically?”

“Yeah! I follow his stuff on instagram and I really want my first tattoo to be done by him!”

The boy’s face brightened the whole shop. Kai’s lip curled.

“Of course! Let me get him for you!”

Tala made his way to Kai in the corner, he got up in his face.

“Listen, this kid’s a newbie—”

Kai rolled his eyes, “you know I don’t ink tattoo virgins—”

“Think of it as a blank canvas. As artists we all like a good canvas, look at him! He’s perfect!”

Kai took a look at this Tyson character. He hated to admit Tala was right. He was a good blank canvas. But Kai hated working with newbie clients; always so nervous, worried about the pain. He would just rather work with a regular.

Tala got angrier, “you will tattoo him. You’ll do exactly what he wants, and above all, you will be nice.”

“Or else what?”

Tala shrugged his shoulders and smiled, “or else you’re fired.”

Kai didn’t want to admit that Tala's threat got to him. He sighed, played off as if he was slightly annoyed but obedient, “fine.”

“Good. Now go do your job.” Tala pointed to the front desk where the new client was waiting.

Kai shot Tala a glare, as he made his way to the desk. He put on his biggest fakest smile.

“Hey, I’m Kai.”

Tyson held a backpack around his shoulder, he grasped it firmly, while giving Kai the widest grin.

“I’ve been following you for a long time! I um… decided when I had enough money I wanted my first tattoo to be done by you…”

Awkward silence.

“Uh, what do you have in mind?” Kai learned how much it hurt when you kept smiling.

“I know you specialize in birds… I would love to have a red phoenix. Eventually I want a dragon. But I’d love to start with your strongest area!”

“Okay. Sounds like a plan.”

Tyson watched Kai like he was a celebrity. He had a popular art account, but that was about it. Kai just stared back at him.

“Um... I think I want it on my back…” Tyson trailed off as he grew more nervous.

“That’s a good choice. Do any designs come to mind?”

Tyson bit his lip, he looked up to the ceiling in thought, “oh!” He pulled out his phone.

He passed it to Kai showing him an old post of his. It wasn’t his best work, but he understood why he liked it.

“I can do that design easily.” Kai wondered why he was so worried—”

“I just… Don’t want it exactly like this.”

Ah right. Newbies.

“So what do you have in mind then?” Kai’s eyebrow twitched.

“I um.” Tyson rubbed the back of his head as his cheeks turned a bit red.

Kai sighed, “kid, I can’t work on you if I don’t know what I’m doing.”

Tala called to Kai, “Hey Kai! Don’t forget about your happy little tattoo gun over here!”

Kai reluctantly put on his big smile, “yeah boss, I haven't forgotten!”

He turned back to Tyson. “So what are your ideas?”

Tyson bit his lip.

“Do you have a reference I can make a design off of? Anything?”

“I… do.”

“Then show it to me.”

Tyson exhaled, then slid his backpack off his shoulder. He opened it and pulled out a sketchbook. He had it turned away from Kai making sure he wouldn’t see. He flipped through a few pages, and turned it towards Kai.

Kai grabbed it, and placed it down on the counter. He saw the sketch of the phoenix that was clearly an imitation of his style… with a twist.

Kai found himself impressed. It was a good design.

“I’ve worked on this for a few months… I’m pretty confident this is what I want… What do you think of it?”

Kai was trying to be extra nice, but he couldn't deny it was good. “It’s well done.”

“Thanks!” Tyson grinned.

The more Kai inspected the drawing the more detailed it became, it gave him new inspiration, a kind he never had before.

“Do you..” Kai cleared his throat and prodded the page with his finger. “Do you want this exact design or a design done by me?”

Tyson looked ecstatic, “would you be willing to make me an original design!?”

Kai thought for a moment. His original designs were usually reserved for regulars or people willing to drop more cash. But something about this design called to him…

He convinced himself he was inspired by his jealousy. He couldn't let this poor imitation see the world.

“I can make you a design based on this one.”

“Really!? Wow, thanks!”

“Can I borrow this sketch book?” Kai asked, while flipping the book closed.

“Um…”

“I need the design.”

“Could you take a picture?”

“I’d prefer to work with the original.” Kai’s lips hurt from smiling.

“Okay… You can borrow it.” It seemed Tyson was an extremely shy guy. “Be careful with it, okay?”

“I will.”

Kai stayed late in the shop. He worked in the studio.

“I’m locking up. Kai, I’m surprised you're still here?” Tala twirled the keys around his finger.

Kai was hunched over the small desk. He had already drawn out a few sketches. Tala inspected his work over his shoulder.

“Can you not?” Kai spat back.

“It’s a good design. I’m surprised you're putting so much effort into this kid's request. It’s not like you.”

Kai shrugged.

“He’s not loaded, you know? You’re not going to make up for it in tips.”

“I know.”

Tala felt a strange proud emotion emerge. “Alright,” he dropped the keys on the desk. “You can lock up. Have fun with your drawings.”

Kai watched the keys as they fell in front of him. He heard the door open, and close.

He sighed, then scrunched up the paper he was working with into a ball, and tossed it into the bin with the rest of the failed projects.

The sketchbook laid in front of him. He wanted to take a look at the design again. But he had lost the bookmark.

Shit.

He had to look through the book to find the right page.

There better not be anything dirty in here…

He opened it to another design.

Oh, wow.

It was a dragon, scribbled with faint watercolour. Kai grew curious, what other masterpieces did this book hold?

He began to flip through, curiously studying each design.

There were tons of dragons. Kai was interested, as he had always wanted a dragon tattoo, but he hadn’t yet met an artist who could ink scales the way he wanted.

These designs were so close to what he wanted, until—

He turned to a page with a very detailed dragon design. It took up the whole page. The colours were perfect, mixes of blues and silver. He was immediately captivated by it. His mouth hung open slightly.

It had been a long time since an art piece caught his attention.

He ran his finger down the page, careful not to smudge the drawing.

“Wow.”

Two days later Tyson came back to the shop, eagerly awaiting his tattoo.

Tala gestures to Kai from across the shop, pointing to the front desk where Tyson had just entered. He mouthed the words ‘be nice!’. Kai looked to the ceiling to stop himself from rolling his eyes.

Kai got up from his station. The night before he had pulled an all-nighter. Until finally—he came out with the perfect piece. He knew Tyson would love it. He was upset with himself for putting so much thought into it, after all, he was just a newbie.

Kai tossed a black file folder on the desk.

Tyson jumped a bit, then settled back in with his backpack on his shoulder, “good morning, Kai!”

Kai put on a smile, “good morning.”

Tyson tilted his head, it was kind of cute, “did you manage to come up with anything? I know it hasn’t been long—”

“I did, I think you’ll enjoy it.” Kai opened the folder and revealed a paper, he placed it on the desk and flipped it around to show the blue-haired boy.

“Woah! Holy shit that’s so cool!” Tyson placed both his hands on the corners, admired it with an open mouth.

“Is it what you wanted?” Kai accidentally let his smile drop as he awaited the response.

“It’s perfect!” Tyson was so happy you could see his dimples.

It made Kai perform… maybe… a real smile.

“I have a test here, do you want to see what it would look like?”

“Can I? Oh man that’s so fucking cool…”

Kai gestured behind the desk, Tyson happily pushed himself through the gate. Kai pointed to his station “that’s my chair, put your stuff anywhere out of my way. Take your shirt off.”

Tyson suddenly stopped smiling and froze, Kai almost ran into him.

“Hey!” Kai started to lose his temper, but saw Tala’s red hair in the corner of his eye, he took a deep breath. “You said you wanted it on your back didn’t you?”

“Yeah…” Tyson answered back nervously.

Kai dropped the folder on his desk near the chair, “then take off your shirt and lay on your stomach.”

Tyson swallowed a hard lump in his throat.

Kai just stared at him.

Newbies. It’s just some skin. So annoying.

Tyson let his bag slide to the floor, he kicked it to the corner of the room, then he folded his arms.

Kai turned around, ready to place the stencil, then he frowned, “why do you still have your shirt on?”

Tyson went to say something, but stopped.

Kai sighed, “it’s just bare skin. I’ve worked on way more intimate body parts. You have nothing to worry about.”

Tyson shrugged, he acted confident but Kai could tell he was nervous. He grasped the ends of his shirt and rolled it over his head, throwing it on top of his bag.

“Now lay down.” Kai gestured to the chair that was horizontal from the last client.

Tyon nodded, and laid down in front of Kai, “is it going to hurt!?”

Kai closed his eyes for a moment, it took everything in him to not retort with sass, “it’s just a sticker, so we can determine the placement. It won’t hurt.”

Tyson nodded.

Kai flicked his arm, “you need to have your arms near your sides… like this.”

Kai had grabbed his closest arm and manipulated it like a rag doll, Tyson hid his face, hoping his idol didn’t see him blush.

“Okay, I’m applying it now.”

Kai expertly placed the test paper exactly where Tyson had described he wanted it. Along his right shoulder. Tyson barely moved, but Kai wasn’t sure how he would react when the actual inking started.

“Done. Take a look in the mirror.”

Tyson jumped up, nearly running to the full length mirror in the shop, twirling his body so he could see it better.

“Wow! It’s so cool!” His voice rang through the whole shop, even Tala’s client looked up from his chair.

“Thank you, Kai!”

“No problem.” Kai sat down in his chair, he picked up his tattoo gun and started to tinker with it, he looked at Tyson. “So are you ready?”

Tyson’s eyes grew wide, “r—right now!?”

Kai gave him a genuine grin, “no better time than the present.”

Tyson made his way back to Kai’s station. He looked down at the chair, “is it going to take a while?”

Kai nodded, “I’ll do the outline today. Then you can come back tomorrow and we will ink as much as we can.”

Tyson sat on the chair, still too nervous to lay down.

“Hey kid!”

Tyson looked around the shop for the echoing voice.

It came from the client on Tala’s chair. He was covered in different tattoos, “don’t be worried! But remember it's addicting! Once you get one you can’t stop!”

Tyson laughed, “thanks man!”

The man gave Tyson a thumbs up, Tala smirked in Kai’s direction.

He must enjoy torturing me… asshole.

Tyson gave Kai a huge smile, “I’m ready!”

“Good.” Kai had reached over to his station, he placed a pair of glasses on his face.

“You wear glasses!?” Tyson was intrigued.

“Yeah? Why is that surprising?” Kai wondered why Tyson cared so much, they just met after all.

Tyson mumbled, “you just… never shared anything on your instagram I guess…”

“There’s more to me than my online persona. Get on your stomach.”

Tyson instantly obeyed. He curled in his fists.

Kai made the necessary procedures, he wiped his back with a sterile wipe, Tyson shivered.

Kai had to bite his tongue from sighing.

“Sorry… it was cold.” Tyson muttered.

“It’s fine, don’t worry.” Kai tried to reassure him but realized he had never really reassured anyone before.

Kai prepared the gun, Tyson turned his head to him, “how much… is it going to hurt?”

God damn it. Why do they always ask...

“Not as much as you’re going to love it.”

Kai impressed himself with his response.

Tyson nodded, and turned his head away from Kai.

“Alright, I’m starting.”

Kai had done it a million times before, but it was Tyson’s first. When the gun first ran along his skin he tensed up, he made a quiet high pitched noise. Kai kept going.

He kept tensing up, too much, it would ruin the work, and Kai’s concentration. Kai stopped for a moment, “you have to untense. It hurts now but it’ll go numb soon, then it won’t be so bad.”

Kai just saw the back of Tyson’s head as he nodded.

Kai grasped his shoulder, “good, now untense.”

Tyson tried to loosen up, but his muscles were still tight.

“Breathe.”

Kai wasn’t sure what to do, but he still had his hand on his shoulder, he gave Tyson a gentle rub with the edge of his thumb.

He heard Tyson exhale, and his whole body relaxed.

“Good job.” Kai readjusted his glasses, and continued. He was leaning over Tyson’s body.

Tyson was aware just how close his idol was, he could feel his breathing as he worked. His face turned red. Over the next hour he grew used to it. He was loving the closeness. He was excited to see what it looked like done.

Tala was surprised, usually Kai put his earbuds in and avoided talking to clients. But this time, Kai kept glancing at Tyson’s hair, as if he wanted to say something, but was stalling. At just over the hour mark, Kai made his move.

“I have to admit. I looked through your sketchbook.”

Tyson jumped, “what?”

“Don’t move—”

“Sorry, but why did you do that?”

“I lost the page the design was on. Then I just kept looking.”

Tyson went silent, clearly he was upset.

Kai stopped for a second, “they’re really good.” he immediately started again.

Tyson went stone cold.

Kai continued, “your dragons are insanely intricate. I’ve never seen scale work like yours. Are they all original?”

Tyson hesitated, “yes…”

“I’m quite fond of the silver-blue dragon, the one near the end.”

“I know which one you’re talking about. It’s one of my favourites too.”

“Mhm.” Kai trailed off, still not ready to ask the question he wanted to.

A few hours later, Kai stopped, “I think that’s good for today.”

Kai put his equipment down, and laid his glasses back on his desk.

Tyson went to get up, “ow…”

“Sore?”

“Yeah, I’ve been in this position too long…���

Tyson slowly rose to a sitting position. Kai admired his shoulder.

It’s great work. I did well.

“I want to see it!” Tyson jumped to his feet making his way to the mirror. He looked in the mirror and gasped in awe.

Tala had approached, he observed the design and raised an eyebrow, “it’s really good, Kai.”

Kai crossed his arms, “come back tomorrow. I’ll colour it. But it will be a bit of work.”

Tala agreed, “it might be best to split the coloring into two appointments. Since it’s his first… How was it, Tyson?”

Tyson was still admiring his tattoo, “the pain? It was fine once I got used to it, Kai really helped.”

“Really!?” Tala looked at Kai in disbelief.

Kai shot him a glare.

Tyson put his shirt back on while Tala described how to take care of it. They made their way to the front desk and finished off some paperwork.

Tala had gone back to his desk, still within earshot.

“Thanks so much. Kai! It’s going to be awesome!” Tyson grinned, “but um… can I have my sketchbook back?”

Kai nodded, then went back to his station, and came back with the book, he slid it across the table, but held on to it when Tyson tried to take it.

Kai didn’t let go of the book, he looked into Tyson’s eyes, with his first genuine expression, “I have a question. About your design.”

“Huh?” Tyson looked up to Kai. He was positive there was nothing he could ask that he wouldn’t know himself.

“I want to buy it.”

“What?” Tyson’s voice rang with disbelief.

“Well, I don’t want to buy the rights. Just the design, so I can have it tattooed.”

“You want my design!?”

“Yes, is that a problem?”

Tala’s ear twitched, the situation tickled his interest, and he made his way back to the counter.

“I uh—um.” Tyson was lost for words.

“How much?” Kai badgered him.

Tala intervened, “Kai leave the poor kid alone, let him think on it.”

Kai looked at Tyson, Tyson stared back.

Tyson let go of the book, “keep the book till tomorrow… I’ll think about what you said…”

Tyson backed up towards the door, “b—bye! See you tomorrow!”

He had left the shop faster than either of them could say bye.

Kai still held the sketchbook, he looked down at it. Tala was immediately furious.

“Kai Hiwatari, what the hell!? Are you an ass or head over heels? You’re going to bully some rookie artist into stealing his design? What is wrong with you—”

Kai had opened the book to his favourite page. Tala’s voice changed right away.

“Shit.”

Kai held the open book close to his chest, “I know. It’s well done.”

“You’re not kidding, here let me see—”

Kai handed him the book. Tala admired the drawing for a long time. Before flipping through the book. He let out a long high pitched whistle.

“Could you do it?” Kai asked.

“Do what?”

“Could you tattoo this for me? I want it on my right shoulder—”

Tala laughed, “no. My specialty lies in fangs and fur. I’ve never done a dragon, plus these scales… this could only be done by the original artist.”

Tala looked up from the book, “if you love this design, it has to be done by the original artist. Does he know how to use a gun?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Ah, shame.”

“How come?”

Tala went back to flipping through pages, “because I'd hire him on the spot.”

Kai was dumbfounded, “for real?”

“Absolutely.”

Dude I have so many more ideas for this AU it’s INSANE. AAAH but this is all I have time for now <3 if there’s a demand for more I might write more!

[hrina]

Dopamine (A Serotonin Extra)

PAIRING: Harry x Reader RATING: M  WORD COUNT: 5.7k REQUESTED: um sorta? everyone wanted more TArry so here it is!

hey guys!!! i couldn’t get enough of my serotonin babies (and apparently, neither could you), so i couldn’t resist churning this out. i really hope you guys enjoy it! if you do, please don’t hesitate to send in feedback to my askbox because i love hearing your thoughts! also, here’s my masterlist if you’re interested in checking out some of my other pieces :-)

read Serotonin HERE

~*~

November 29th, 2019

“What are you smiling about?” Margaret grumbles, drumming her fingers on the countertop.

You’re smirking down at your phone, watching three little bubbles wiggle above the keyboard. The line at Grounded is long today, and Margaret isn’t in the best mood. She’s been venting all morning, but you’re sure that once she has some caffeine in her system, she’ll calm down.

“Hm?” you ask, peering up with raised brows and innocent eyes. When she gazes at you questioningly, you shrug. “Oh. Um—just Harry.”

“I knew it.” Her lips twist up wryly. “You’ve got that look on your face.”

You scoff, shutting your phone and tucking it back into your pocket. “What look?”

“The ‘Harry’ look,” she explains, snickering softly. The barista bustles over and hands you your drinks; he shoots Margaret a wink, and her face flushes crimson. You giggle as you step back and begin to make your way down the hall.

“I think someone’s into you,” you murmur, grinning widely.

“Shut up,” she scoffs, placing the back of her hand against her hot cheek.

“He was cute!” you say, nudging her gently with your elbow. She bats your arm away and lifts her latte to her mouth, taking a tentative sip. You give up on provoking her, for now. The subject of the cute, flirty barista will no doubt surface again in the future, and when it does, you’re sure that it’ll be because you brought it up.

“So,” Margaret starts, smacking her lips and humming appreciatively, “You and Harry. Have you guys fucked again, or…?”

You sputter, nearly choking on your coffee. “What?” you spit out, shaking your head vehemently. “No!”

“I’m just asking!” she protests, smiling deviously. You cough and glare daggers at her; it seems as though her mood is already improving.

The two of you pass by Harry’s office. The door is closed, much to your dismay. Instinctively, your gaze falls to the silver plaque standing out against the wood, and you feel an urge to run your fingers over the inscription. Harry E. Styles.

“Are we going to be doing a review for the final in class today?” Margaret asks you, snapping you out of your trance. You focus your attention back on her, your brows knitting together in thought.

“I would hope so,” you say. “The exam’s next week, and I haven’t even started studying.”

“Neither have I.” Your friend sighs, playing with her hair anxiously. You purse your lips; your shoes squeak against the floor.

“Well,” Margaret starts, tracing her index finger along the bottom of her coffee cup. She bumps your arm gently and shoots you a small, pained smile. “At least we’ll fail together.”

You snort and nod in agreement. Your phone buzzes in your pocket, and you fish it out quickly. Immediately, a smile breaks out across your lips; your eyes eagerly scan over Harry’s message, drinking in each letter as though it’s the last thing you’ll ever read.

Wednesday night is perfect. See you then. H. x

  December 4th, 2019

You want to bash your head against the wall. The information just won’t stick.

You know that you’re in dire need of taking a break. But the final is the day after tomorrow, and it’s worth thirty-five percent of your grade, and you’re stressed beyond belief. Your grey sweatpants have been rolled up to the knee, and your red crewneck is wrinkled from where you’ve been pulling nervously on the hem. You need to wash your hair—you’ve been putting it off for two days now. The mere sensation of it sitting atop your head makes you feel greasy and gross.

But you don’t have the time.

“Content validity, face validity…,” you mumble to yourself. You’re fairly certain that there’s a hollow on your mattress in the shape of your body (particularly your bum), but you haven’t moved enough to properly gauge the severity.

“Construct validity…,” you mutter, shaking your head. “What the fuck is construct validity?”

The pages of your textbook flap loudly as you search for the definition in the glossary. Your eyes are tearing through each word when suddenly, a loud knock echoes down the hall of your apartment. You freeze for only a moment before bouncing to your feet.

You make your way out of your bedroom and toward the front door, your mouth watering at the promise of the Chinese takeout that’s waiting out in the corridor. When you twist the knob and pull the door open, however, you come face-to-face with Harry instead of your usual delivery man.

“You’re not Chen,” you say blankly.

“No,” Harry replies. “I’m not.”

The first thing you notice is the casual brown suit jacket draped over his torso. His trousers match. There’s a khaki button-up beneath his coat; the first few clasps are undone. His hair is parted down the middle, framing the sides of his face. He looks like he’s just stepped straight out of the nineties, boyish and rugged and incredibly handsome.

“Oh fuck,” you say, your eyes widening as the realisation dawns on you. “I’m an idiot.”

Harry rakes his fingers through his hair, humming as his gaze skirts down your body. “You forgot.”

It isn’t a question.

“I forgot,” you admit, covering your face with your hands. You groan loudly, shaking your head. “I’m so sorry. My exam is on Friday and I’ve been studying all day—I literally haven’t left my room. It completely slipped my mind.”

“It’s alright,” Harry tells you, brushing your apology aside. “I get it. Do you want to just reschedule?”

“Of course.” You nod, digging your fingers into the pockets of your sweatpants. Harry nods, and you hesitate. “But, um—,” you start, peering up at him hopefully, “I actually ordered some food. It should be here soon, if—if you wanna stick around?”

Harry’s lips twitch. “Sure.”

“Cool,” you say dumbly, stepping back and motioning for him to enter. “Come on in.”

Harry carefully toes off his shoes as you close the door. You watch as he arranges them meticulously against the wall, a small smile curling along your mouth. He looks at you when he stands back up, smirking slightly. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head. He chuckles quietly as you lead him down the hall. “Would you like anything to drink?”

“I’m alright,” he responds. You concede with a meek shrug of your shoulders. You guide him into your bedroom, cringing immediately at the untidiness of the space.

“Sorry it’s so messy,” you ramble, picking up a dirty sweater from the floor and tossing it into the hamper standing a few feet away. “Like I said—I’ve been holed up in here all day. All week, actually.”

“It’s alright,” Harry says. “Like I said—I get it.”

“I look gross, too,” you continue, though you’re speaking mostly to yourself. “My hair’s all greasy, and I feel disgusting—”

“I think you look wonderful,” he cuts you off.

His palm lands on the small of your back; you stiffen, your head snapping to the side to look up at him. You’re suddenly painfully aware of the proximity between your bodies. Harry steps closer to you, and your heartbeat picks up beneath your ribs. Part of you wants to veer backward, but your feet stay rooted to the ground.

“Can I have a kiss?” he murmurs. He slips his fingers beneath the material of your sweater and draws gentle circles against your skin. You feel like your knees are about to give out.

“No,” you say quickly. His brows knit together, and you hasten to make amends. “I mean—I need to shower, still, and brush my teeth. Give me, like, twenty minutes, okay?”

His features soften, lips curling upward into a soft smirk. “Okay.”

~*~

When you step out of the shower, the smell of noodles and grilled vegetables is unmistakable. You quickly change into an old sports bra, a baggy grey t-shirt, and a pair of bright green shorts. Your hair squelches as you wring any excess water from the sopping strands. You brush your teeth, smacking your lips together and savouring the minty taste of toothpaste on your tongue.

Upon re-entering your bedroom, you find Harry sitting on your mattress amidst the mess of sheets, flash cards, and books. He’s removed his jacket and undone another button on his shirt. There’s a plastic bag on his lap; the smell wafting from the food inside lures you closer, like a moth to a flame.

“Takeout came,” Harry says. “I got it.”

“How much was it?” you ask, tucking a strand of wet hair behind your ear. “I’ll pay you back.”

“No need,” he tells you.

“Harry—”

“No need,” he repeats sternly, but the look in his eyes is lighthearted. “It’s my treat.”

“I’m sorry,” you say, approaching him and blowing out a sad sigh. “I fucking ruined our first date.”

“You didn’t,” he assures you.

You chew anxiously on your bottom lip as he removes the takeout from his lap, setting it on your bed and spreading his legs. He reaches out for you, grasping your fingers with his and tugging you forward. You shuffle closer, absentmindedly placing one hand on his shoulder to steady yourself. He splays his other palm out onto the back of your left thigh, giving a light squeeze.

“Can I have that kiss now?” he asks softly. His gaze is sincere.

Despite the regret flowing through your veins, you smile and nod, untangling your fingers and cupping his jaw delicately. Harry hums as you plant a chaste peck onto his lips. He’s smirking when you pull back.

“We can eat in here, if you want,” you inform him.

You make room on your mattress, gathering up your textbooks and papers and setting them aside. Harry turns to face you as you collapse onto your bed. You groan dramatically into the duvet before scrambling into a sitting position. The takeout doesn’t stand a chance—you snatch it up with greedy hands, rifling through the bag and producing twin sets of plastic cutlery.

“I may have ordered enough for two,” you say sheepishly, your cheeks heating up. “I was hungry.”

“I can leave you to it,” Harry replies, his words laced with subtle mockery. You scoff, reaching out and swatting his shoulder weakly.

“Shut it.”

“Don’t be rude,” he warns. “Or I won’t help you study once we’re done.”

“I don’t recall asking you for your help,” you say, tapping your chin with your index finger.

Harry grins, his expression saturated with salacious mischief. “I’m a generous man. Have you forgotten?”

The memory of his head buried between your thighs pops into your brain, flashing like a neon sign and wailing as loud as a hundred sirens. You gulp violently, shaking your head and busying your hands with pulling a container of noodles out of the plastic bag. You keep yourself occupied longer than necessary, not wanting him to see the embarrassment warping your features.

“You’re gross,” you tell him plainly, though you can’t ignore the flash of heat that streaks through your stomach at his words.

“Hey, now,” Harry starts, snickering. “What did I just say about being rude?”

~*~

“Can you explain to me the basic concept of reliability?”

“The act of yielding consistent results.”

“Exactly.” Harry grins, tossing the flash card down onto your mattress. Your back rests against the headboard, hands convoluted in your lap.

There’s a handful of cards already lying in a messy pile on your bed, but neither of you pay the clutter any attention. Harry’s too busy studying the definitions that you’d written up earlier this week, and you’re too busy studying him.

His large hands practically dwarf the stack of papers clutched between his fingers, and his big, gaudy rings glimmer in the warm light of your room. His gangly legs are crossed as he sits in front of you. With each question that you answer correctly, he nods in approval.

His eyes have gotten brighter, you think, because whenever he looks up at you, the grassy green of his irises is all that you can see.

The air still smells faintly of the food you’d scarfed down. You’re surprised at how easily the two of you had fallen into conversation. Harry’s actually really funny—his humour is underrated (and definitely one of your favourite things about him, now). You’d always found him to be intimidating, but it’s refreshing to know that under that stoic exterior, he’s just as quirky as anyone else.

“Next one,” Harry murmurs, his eyes skimming over the cursive definition on the subsequent card. “What is a longitudinal study?”

You bite your lip. “It’s when…researchers follow the same participants over a longer period of time, right? Like, they retest them throughout the years.”

“Brilliant,” he says, nodding proudly. Your cheeks heat up at his praise.

Harry covers his mouth as he yawns quietly.

“Am I boring you?” you ask, your lips kinking up into a wry smile.

He shakes his head. “No, not at all. This is absolutely riveting.”

You snort; he smiles. He stretches out his arms, his mouth curling around a quiet grunt and his forehead creasing with a rough wince. “Fuck. My back’s killing me.”

“Should we switch positions?” you offer, sitting up straight. “You can come over here and lean against the headboard, if you want.”

“I love switching positions,” Harry hums; that adorable dimple carves into his cheek as the innuendo slips from his mouth. You swallow heavily and shake your head, rolling your eyes. You hope that it’s enough to hide the way your spine has stiffened at his words.

“Okay, let me just…,” you begin, shifting quietly.

“Actually,” he says, placing a hand on your knee. “What if I…?”

His exhale is guttural as he uncrosses his legs and turns himself around. You laugh incredulously when he flops backward, his head now snuggled securely in your lap. Your hands reflexively curl into his hair, and you run your fingers across his scalp, falling into a soothing rhythm. He sighs, eyes fluttering shut for a moment as a pleased grin spreads across his lips.

“There we go,” he says, nodding once. “Much better, I’d say.”

“You’re so dumb.” You chuckle and flick his nose gently. His eyes snap open and he releases a short, petulant whine. The sound is extremely adorable, but of course, you’re not going to tell him that.

“Can I have another kiss?” Harry asks.

Your gaze falls to his face—even though his features are upside down, he’s still ridiculously handsome. This time, there’s nothing teasing about his question—the inquiry is completely sincere. You chew on the inside of your cheek and try to ignore the butterflies flapping around in your stomach.

With a short nod, you lean down and seal your lips to his, your nose brushing against his chin. This kiss is longer than the one you’d shared earlier, and there’s absolutely nothing wrong with that. It’s only when Harry parts his lips that you finally pull back, skirting your thumb over his Cupid’s bow and propping yourself up against the headboard. A strangled puff of air gets caught in your chest.

“What’s the next definition?” you prod, breathless.

Harry clears his throat, tapping the stack of flash cards against his chest once to organize them properly.

“No peeking,” he tells you, aware that if you tried, you’d be able to read each definition once he flipped them around to the other side.

“Cross my heart.”

“What’s an observational study?”

You know this one. “It’s when researchers don’t manipulate any variables—they just observe what’s going on and try to draw conclusions based on natural behaviours.”

Harry peers up at you. His eyes are shining. “You’re a clever one, y’know that?”

The compliment catches you off-guard. You avoid his gaze, shrinking into yourself. “Oh. Thank you.”

“My pleasure,” he replies. He angles his head to the side and presses a smacking kiss to the crook of your knee. Your fingers falter in his hair for only a moment—you hope that he doesn’t notice.

“What’s a theory?” Harry asks.

You hesitate. “A set of statements that describe how variables relate to each other…right?”

“Close,” he says. “You left out the part about ‘general principles’.”

“Shit, yeah.” You sigh. “That one’s always tricky for me. I don’t know why.”

“You’re fine,” Harry assures you, reaching up blindly and giving your thigh a gentle squeeze. “Next one…what is a control group?”

“It’s the group that doesn’t receive the treatment,” you say. “It just kind of serves as the standard.”

“Perfect.” He nods and turns his face to the side again. You’re expecting another chaste kiss against your leg, but instead, you gasp when you feel his teeth sink gently into your skin.

“Ouch!” you exclaim, laughter trickling into your voice. Harry smiles, dragging his tongue over the shallow dents decorating the inside of your thigh. He soothes the brief sting with a series of quick pecks, and you nearly melt into your mattress.

You expect it to end. You’re waiting for him to pull away and fix his attention onto the next term needing to be defined. But—to your eager surprise—he seems completely happy with just lying here and making love to the sensitive skin on the inside of your leg. Your flash cards end up abandoned on the bed, still tucked into a neat little square. One of Harry’s hands reaches up to cup your knee, while the other splays out flat against the bed so that he can roll himself over with a soft grunt.

“What—what’re you doing?” you breathe, your eyes glued to his face. There’s a smug smile tugging at his lips, but overall, he does a good job of masking his glee.

“Nothing,” he muses, shaking his head. He’s on his stomach now, his chest flat against the duvet. You swallow down the hard lump in your throat when he snakes his arms beneath your legs and tugs you closer to him. He continues to pepper kisses over your knee, slowly making his way toward the hem of your shorts.

“Just…lovin’ on you,” he murmurs, inching the fabric further up your thigh.

His words are warm and sticky against your skin, though they’re quickly cooled by his saliva as he chases them with open-mouthed imprints of his lips. You exhale heavily through your nose; the noise is high-pitched, loud enough to be a sigh. There’s something hot brewing in the pit of your stomach, and you can feel yourself growing wetter with each passing moment.

Can he smell you? Like how he had the last time?

“Harry,” you stammer when he kisses a spot right at the crease of your upper thigh. “I need to study.”

Despite your reproach, though, your fingers once again find a home in his hair. He chuckles darkly.

“And you will,” he says. “But first, tell me—,” he inhales deeply, a low growl resonating in the back of his throat, “—have you got any knickers on?”

You squeak when he brings one long, sure finger up to the apex of your legs and runs the digit down the middle seam of your shorts. He’s got his answer, now, because you’re positive that he can feel the protrusion of your lower lips and the budding of your clit. Harry pinches the nub through the material of your bottoms, and you moan quietly.

“Guess not,” he mutters, answering his own question with a snicker. Your abdomen tenses when his finger slips lower; he looks up at you with wide eyes when he feels just how wet you’ve become. Your cheeks heat up with embarrassment, but you hold his gaze.

“I’m…,” you trail off, not sure of what to say.

“Soaked,” Harry murmurs in supplication, rubbing his fingertip delicately over where your opening lies beneath your shorts. He coaxes your legs into a bent position so that your knees point upward at the ceiling, and your toes subconsciously curl into the duvet.

“I need to study,” you repeat stupidly, your voice quivering.

“Fine.”

Harry sighs, shooting you a small smile as he reaches over retrieve the stack of forgotten flash cards. You wait for him to pull away, now, but you’re sorely mistaken. Instead, he sets the pile down next to your hip, plucking a definition from the top and scanning over the words.

“What’s a cross-sectional study?” he asks, his index finger skating back up your center. You bite your tongue when he begins to rub slow, languid circles into your clit through your shorts.

“A—a design where researchers test different people of different ages. It’s like…the opposite of a longitudinal study.”

“Well done.” Harry nods, tossing the card away and reaching for another. “Want your reward?”

You gasp when he applies a bit more pressure to your clit. The change only lasts for a few seconds before he slows and reverts back to his previous pace. You swallow heavily.

“This one’s easy.” Harry smirks up at you after reading the next term. “What’s an independent variable?”

“The variable being manipulated,” you answer immediately. He’s right—it is a simple question. The definition has been hammered into your brain since your first year of university; you can recall it just as effortlessly as you can remember your own name.

Despite that, though, Harry still says, “Good girl,” and leans down, swiping his tongue over the full length of your clothed cunt. You moan in surprise, the sound tearing itself from your chest. He pulls away an instant later, an evil grin tugging at the corners of his lips. You peer down at him with dilated pupils and flaring nostrils, your mind going blank.

“Please.” The request falls from your lips before you have the chance to register what you’re saying.

“Thought you needed to study?” he asks, lifting an eyebrow. You frown.

“Harry—,” you start, but he cuts you off.

“A few more,” he bargains, picking another flash card from the pile. “Define empiricism for me.”

“Er…fuck.” You close your eyes, inhaling deeply and taking a moment to collect yourself. Harry switches his fingers—the pad of his thumb takes up the task of rubbing you through your bottoms. Your exhale is shaky and forced; you wrack your brain for the right words.

“It’s the theory that—that all knowledge can only be derived from sensory experience. It’s what all branches of science are based on. I think.”

“Correct,” Harry replies, littering kisses along your inner thigh. You mewl when he hooks his middle finger into the left leg of your shorts, entering from the side and coming into direct contact with your folds. The digit glides down until it reaches your entrance. A faint curse falls from Harry’s mouth.

“Fuckin’ drenched,” he whispers. His features contort in what can only be described as pained desire.

Your walls bear down, clenching around nothing. Harry withdraws his finger, studying the way it gleams in the light of your room. You open your mouth to speak, but before you can, he envelopes his lips around your juices, sinking down to the knuckle. You suddenly find yourself struggling to breathe.

“Another,” he states, producing what feels like the millionth flash card from the pile. “What’s a—?”

“No,” you whimper, shaking your head and snapping your thighs shut.

As you anticipated, the action catches Harry by surprise. A small wrinkle forms between his brows, and he quickly pushes himself up onto his knees, fiddling nervously with the corner of the card. You sit up straight against the headboard, your hands flat on the mattress next to your bum.

“You alright?” Harry asks, no longer teasing. “Did I do something—?”

You launch yourself at him.

He grunts when your chest collides with his. The force of your attack is enough to push him backward, and his shoulders hit the mattress with a hard thump. You quickly scramble up his body, knees boxing him in as you straddle his hips. His hands reflexively land on your waist to steady you, and a loud laugh falls from his mouth.

“You’re mad,” he tells you, trapped in a fit of giggles. “Absolutely mad.”

“I don’t care,” you whine, flopping down and burying your face into the crook of his neck. “You’re such a dick.”

“That’s not nice,” Harry says, though he’s anything but upset. You pepper hot, frantic kisses along the column of his throat, circling your hips and applying the slightest bit of pressure to his groin. A low grunt reaches your ears, and you smile to yourself. Your fingers slip down his torso, hurriedly unclasping the remaining buttons on his shirt.

“Fuck me,” you murmur, nibbling softly on Harry’s earlobe. “Please?”

“Shit,” he wheezes. His fingertips dig into your sides; little pricks of anticipation whizz through your veins.

It’s all over, after that. In a matter of seconds, your baggy t-shirt has been discarded. Harry yanks down the material of your sports bra, catching one of your nipples between his teeth and biting down gently. You moan; the pain feels good, and it only spurs you on.

Harry’s button-up is next. You undo the last clasp before ripping the shirt from his body and yanking it down his arms. He chuckles at your eagerness, but the sound quickly melts into a soft sigh when you lightly scrape your nails down his toned stomach. You take a minute to trace the ferns inked into his hips before diving lower. The metal on his belt clanks loudly as you pull it from the loops on his brown trousers. The sound of his zipper being tugged down by your clumsy fingers is just as noisy, if not more.

“Help,” you beg, shimmying down Harry’s body so that you can properly grab onto the fabric of his pants.

His hands shoot down, swiftly pushing the material from his hips. You tug the trousers off the rest of the way, your damp hair falling into your face as you climb back into his lap. Now, the only things standing in your way are your shorts and his boxers.

“Glad to see you wore underwear, this time,” you say, the faintest hint of mockery snaking into your words.

Harry grins. “You didn’t.”

“We’ll take turns.” You shrug, concealing a smile. Harry chuckles, hooking his fingers into the waistband of your shorts and wrestling them down. You sit up on your knees, strategically lifting one leg at a time to slide the material down your thighs.

“Smooth, right?” you ask, lips quirking up when you position yourself back over his crotch. You can feel his cock beneath his boxers, hard and heavy. Reflexively, you roll your hips, and the two of you moan in unison at the sensation.

“Very smooth,” Harry chokes out, his large palms splaying against your ass. “Pull me out, love.”

You oblige, your fingers dipping past the elastic of his underwear. They wrap around his cock, and you gently tug him from the confines of his briefs. He hisses when you swipe your thumb over the leaking tip and give him a firm, steady pump.

“’Ve got…,” Harry swallows heavily. “There’s a condom in my trousers. Back pocket.”

“That’s a bit presumptuous of you, don’t you think?” you tease. A weak laugh tumbles from his lips.

“Not presumptuous,” he corrects. “Just…hopeful, maybe.”

“I guess I’ll believe you.” You smile, reaching behind your body and blindly patting around for his pants. When you find them, you quickly fish through both back pockets, producing a gold foil square and holding it up between your fingers.

“Magnum,” you state. You think you see Harry’s cheeks tint with the lightest shade of pink.

“I used it last time, too,” he says.

You hum. “Guess I just wasn’t paying attention.”

“How rude.”

You giggle at his words, ripping the packet open and pulling the condom out. Harry groans softly when you roll the latex down the shaft of his cock, your fingers careful and delicate. Instinctively, his hips buck up; you place one hand over the butterfly on his abdomen to tame him.

“Gonna put me in?” he asks breathlessly, his fingertips pressing against the small of your back as you lift yourself up. “Gonna ride me?”

“Mm-hm,” you reply, positioning him at your entrance. You force your muscles to relax when you feel his tip prodding at your hole, and slowly, you sink down his cock, enveloping each inch as though you’ve done it a hundred times before.

“Fuck!” Harry hisses, throwing his head back into the duvet. Your walls flutter around his length, stretching to accommodate his girth. He looks up at you with glazed eyes, his lips pulled back over his teeth.

“Gimme a kiss, love,” he pleads, his hands stroking over your spine. “I’ve not kissed you once.”

“How rude,” you echo his previous words back to him, and he laughs. You fulfill his request, though, leaning down and smearing your lips against his. He sighs appreciatively against your mouth, and you slowly raise your hips, moaning when they drop back against his thighs. Harry swallows the sound, licking into you and cupping your face with one of his hands.

“Good,” he murmurs brokenly, squeezing your waist. “Y’feel so good.”

“So do you,” you breathe, your foreheads pressed together. “I feel…full.”

“Shit,” he says, and then he’s pawing at your chest, which is still partially covered by your sports bra. “Take this off, yeah?”

“Okay,” you whisper. You sit up straight, your fingers spread out just over his collarbones to keep yourself steady. Harry’s palms sweep up and down your sides as you rid yourself of the garment, tossing it away unceremoniously. Immediately, his gaze falls to your breasts. He wastes no time, cupping them and rubbing his thumbs over your nipples.

“’M not gonna last,” he confesses, his cheeks growing a darker shade of pink. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” you tell him, bouncing up and down quickly on his cock. “I won’t either. You—oh, right there—you’ve got me all worked up from before.”

“Was just trying to help you study.” His grin is forced, but it’s blinding.

You intentionally clench around him. Harry releases a loud swear, your walls nearly suffocating his dick. He reaches up, using his index finger to gently flick your chin in admonishment. You giggle, but the sound is short-lived, interrupted by the gasp that bubbles up in your chest when his hand fits around the curve of your throat. Your eyes go wide, and you peer down at him, stilling abruptly.

“This okay?” he asks gruffly. He makes no move to tighten his grip.

“Yeah,” you breathe, nodding vehemently and subconsciously arching your chest forward. You place your fingers over his and squeeze, encouraging him. “Do it harder.”

“Fuckin’ hell,” he mutters. His hips snap up into yours as he begins to apply more pressure against your neck. “You’re so—fuck.”

You smile dreamily, eyelids fluttering shut. Your hands find their way to Harry’s abdomen, using his body as leverage so that you can hasten your pace and ride him properly once more. He meets you halfway, bucking and slamming in profoundly every time. The room devolves into heat, pathetic little whimpers, and the telltale smell of sex and sweat. Harry’s now choking you just enough for you to feel a bit light-headed. It’s like you’re floating.

And it’s fucking wonderful.

“Har—oh my God, Harry, I’m gonna cum,” you moan.

The movement of your hips slows as you begin gyrating against him, aiming for something deeper, now.

Harry grunts in response. The hand that’s not wrapped around your throat snakes down to the apex of your thighs; he begins plucking messily at your clit with two fingers.

“Cum,” he says, breathless. “Lemme see it—cum for me.”

Your orgasm triggers his own. The fingers pressed against your neck twitch as he shoots into the condom. The two of you ride out your highs together, panting and groaning and trying to control the little spasms that rocket through your limbs. You fall forward, your chest smearing against Harry’s when you seek out his lips. It’s not even a proper kiss, permeated too heavily with gasps and sighs, but it’s enough. You don’t speak, sucking in deep gulps of air and trying to regulate your breathing.

Shoulders heave. Toes curl.

You squish your mouth to Harry’s temple. He sinks deeper into the duvet.

After a few long moments of silence, you feel a pair of hands cup the sides of your face, tucking your hair behind your ears and stroking the apples of your cheeks.

“Hi,” you whisper.

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, a smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth. “Glad we got to do that again.”

You snort softly, your heart hammering beneath your ribs. Harry wraps his arms around you as you bury your face into his neck, pressing haphazard kisses along the underside of his jaw. You shift your hips, suddenly acutely aware of the fact that he’s still inside of you.

He’s still inside of you, and he’s…

“Are—are you still hard?” you ask, the words laced with disbelief.

His body rumbles as he chuckles. “It would appear so.”

You laugh quietly, your breath fanning out over the sticky skin of his throat. “We’ll go again,” you promise him, giving his shoulder a weak squeeze. “Have you got another condom?”

“No,” he says mournfully, stroking his fingertips up and down your spine. You sigh, nuzzling your nose against his cheek.

“It’s okay,” you say airily. “Maybe I’ll just blow you, instead.”

Harry groans at your offer, twirling a damp tendril of your hair around his pinky and tugging lightly. You hum appreciatively at the pulling sensation. He fixes you with an incredulous look—you just giggle in response.

“I’ll only give you head if you actually help me study afterwards, though,” you tell him, a teasing smirk spreading across your face.

“Deal,” he says. He pauses for a moment, but it’s clear that there’s something else on the tip of his tongue.

“What is it?” you press softly, drumming your fingertips over his chest.

Harry shrugs, shooting you a small smile. His next words fill you with giddy pride.

“Dunno why you thought you’d ruined our night,” he says. His eyes are brimming with sincerity. “This is probably the best date I’ve ever had.”

~*~

if you enjoyed this piece, please consider donating to my ko-fi! thank you bunches <3

[chaninfused]

Today, this mediocre blog turns one year old.

And it’s not much, but it’s something, for sure. I’m happy to be writing this, mainly because I didn’t expect to write it in the first place. Coming here, I had no aspirations for this blog. Write and post, that was my initial intent, but I’m glad to say I have found and created much more. As cliché as it sounds, I’ve learned and improved quite a lot, both as a person and a writer. Never in my life had I imagined myself writing y/n stories, yet here I am, and I’m content.

As much as I complain, I cannot deny that this place made this year bearable so far. Everyone, from my friends to my silent readers, made this experience fun, despite the various disappointments of 2020 (ahem, a ruined senior year). For that, I think it’s time to move to the important parts of this letter; all I have to say to you!

First, I must thank the friends that gave me something to look forward to each day. I am honored to have met you all, whom I have spoken to daily or spontaneously. Thank you for keeping up with my sucky person antics!

@luvhjs, I often wonder if we could’ve ever met if @skzwritersclub didn’t exist, or if you didn’t decide to join our fetus network, and I always conclude that it’s not something I want to think about. Simply because it’s horrifying. I might not express it properly, but our friendship is one I treasure beyond words. Thank you for panicking with me over silly things, listening to my nonsense rambles, and in all sincerity, being the best there is. A hundred ‘I love you’s randomly arriving in your inbox would never be enough, but I hope you know that I love you, and I wish you all the best, all the time ♡

@missinghan, I don’t know where to begin, and honestly, I don’t know where to stop either. I don’t regret screaming into your dms that day, although I’m deeply sorry for terrifying you (oops!). All jokes aside, I truly don’t know what I’ve done to deserve a friend like you. I’m grateful for each conversation we’ve had, even that one about maggot cheese or those depressing texts about our dying dashboards. I solemnly believe that I would’ve lost my mind during spring break had we not spent careless hours on Tumblr talking about anything that could possibly be talked about. I feel like I couldn’t thank you enough for everything you’ve done for me; for hearing my writing rants to handling my dramatics to just being there when I send a good morning text in all caps. You are incredible, it is not just a silly nickname. I love you, and I know affection is gross but I’m saying it again. I love you! ♡

@meiiyue, hey, remember when you told me you knew me from Wattpad? That was our first proper interaction, and I am so glad I had gotten to know you better after that. We often joke about it, but I love your love for all things murder. Please never let anyone’s opinions get in your way. You honestly have one of the most unique personalities I’ve ever known. I mean, where else would you find koalas and blood-chilling crime in one place? Thank you for being the cutest and most talented. I hope you know that you’re loved, and I love you, and it will always be that way ♡

@meanhly, oh, look, it’s my keyboard smashing partner! I’m glad you decided to panic about On track in my dms instead of my askbox. Thank you for birthing this beautiful friendship! Speaking of which, what friendship level are we at now, Selina? Okay, I’ll stop fooling around. Thank you for never failing to make me laugh, no thanks to your autocorrect for calling me fruit, though. I think one of the reasons I love the Songless Bird so much is, well, you! It was your excitement about the story that pushed me to explore the world more, to write more. I cannot even begin to express how thankful I am for that. I love you, so much, and I cherish our friendship just as much ♡

@smileylino, our ‘02 line is only complete with you, Rain. Thank you for being the best panic partner (hehe) and the cutest Minho stan. Talking to you is always so much fun, even if we’re just discussing memes or soft scenarios. I don’t know how successfully your Minho detox is going, but I miss your random declarations of love for the one and only. I hope you know that you’re really talented, and I’ll always be here to cheer you on whenever. You deserve only the best this world can offer. I know you’ll do amazing, whatever it is you’ll be doing. I love you! ♡

@lixiefe, if anyone were to see our first interactions, they wouldn’t expect us to become good friends. Yet here we are, and I wouldn’t change that for the world! I love talking to you, even if it’s about the strangest of topics. Thank you for making me love my own work. You make it out to be something special, which it isn’t, but I appreciate that so much. Thank you for handling my self-deprecating statements with hilarious poop references, even though I am still adamantly against them (kidding!). You’re special, I hope you’d know that. I love you so much! ♡

@scriptura-delirus​, we might not interact a lot but whenever we do, it’s always so much fun. I truly admire your work and your way of thinking. Thank you for writing the best fantasy to be found in this fandom, and for all the support you’ve shown my mediocre stories. If this were a follow forever, know that your url would be among the first. I love you! ♡

@jeonginks​, can I consider you a friend? I hope I can. The entirety of my first interactions with you consisted of me embarrassing myself, from that useless blurb to all that panicking. Thank you for not blocking me yet... I am very sure that without SWC, I wouldn’t have ever talked to you. And while I might not panic anymore, you are still someone I genuinely look up to when it comes to writing. I wish you’d know that you’re an inspiration, for me and many writers out there. Also, you can send me as many Liam memes as you want, I’ve become immune to them (phew). I presume this is called affection, but I love you! ♡

@scxrlettwxtches​, writing or not, you’re a dear friend of mine. I’m terrible at expressing things, but I’m glad we started talking. Thank you for listening to all the unnecessary writing things I say. I love your work, even though I don’t say it enough. You might not know but your enthusiasm motivates me to write; all the random questions and spoiler requests. I’m sorry for [redacted] in ‘Row, Row, Row Your Boat’. I hope I’ve been able to make up for that through the blurbs! All in all, I wish you all the best in everything you do, and I love you! ♡

@f3lixlvr​, you are the first person I have properly spoken to in his hellhole. I remember our first conversations and just how much joy they brought me, even though I was hiding behind an anonymous profile. Thank you for being the most amazing and making late 2019 fun and exciting. I love you! ♡

@wingkkun​, we only began directly interacting recently, but we’ve talked before. Your writing is great, beyond that, even. I’ll raid your masterlist one day, just you wait! You seem like a complete sweetheart, and I hope we can talk more in the future. Thank you for all the lovely tags you had left on my stories, I love you! ♡

@ammuqwer​, you are a friend I didn’t expect to make, but one I wouldn’t want to lose for anything. Talking to you brightens my day, and I can only wish I can offer just as much happiness in yours. You’re amazing, really. If you ever have a hard time, please know that you can always find me. I love you! ♡

@p2q3r4​, I often scroll through your blog and I have to say, you’re crazy talented. Your drawings are stunning! Thank you for all the comments you’ve left on my writings, I appreciate every single one of them. You’re also a complete sweetheart, have I ever told you that? And I love your love for languages, it never was annoying. Never stop being amazing, I love you! ♡

🌷 anon, I might not know who you might be, but you’re a friend I cherish so much, Tulip. I love talking to you, and I say that a lot, but hearing from you is always so lovely. Thank you for all the asks you’ve ever sent, those with tmi to those with Splatoon talk. I hope you know that I’ll always be there for you, whenever, wherever. I love you so much! ♡

Caeliman Minho anon, last but definitely not least. I’m afraid this short letter wouldn’t do you justice, but I hope you’d know that you mean a lot to me. Thank you for all the support you’ve shown my work, all the inspiration you’ve given me, and all the thoughts you’ve generously shared. I love hearing what you have to say, and I love you! Thank you for everything ♡

Second, to all my readers, those who always reblog, those who leave a trail of hearts behind, and even those who just pass by, thank you for giving my writings a chance. I am continuously motivated to write more and write better for you. I’m nowhere near that, but I’m slowly making my way up there. Thank you for being the best audience ♡

Finally, to you reading this, thank you for reaching this far. It has only been a year, and I hope I can continue to contribute to this fandom for much longer than that.

Today, a story was meant to be posted. Due to my poor management skills (yikes!), I will instead be posting the world-information edit for ‘Danse Macabre’. Please look forward to it!

That is all. Thank you for making these 365 days on this blog special, and here’s to many more! I love you all! ♡

[parkeraul]

So the other day I was watching some of Shawn's old covers and in a few of them he's in his old bedroom in which, as you can clearly see, there's a mirror right in front of his bed. Just imagine him touching you on that bed and letting you watch your reflection on the mirror while he fingers you with his tattooed hand, the other hand on your mouth just to keep you quiet so you won't wake his parents and his sister

under control — s.m.

author’s note — hey everyone. so, my blog is going through some changes: from now on, i’m gonna write for shawn & for tom holland too. if you wanna request for tom, my askbox is open and some series are going to come up soon. i used to be @shawmndes​ but now i’m sticking to the username parkeraul. my writings for shawn r still going to be posted, nothing’s gonna change about that. anyways, i hope you like it.

warnings — smut (dom!shawn), cursing & kinky stuff.

words — 2,962.

“Guess I got a little sunburned,” She stops in front of the mirror, analysing her shoulders and spinning in place to switch angles. “By the way, why haveyou moved your keyboards?” 

Shawn stares sitting in bed behind her, taken by the way the towel wrapped around her body threatens to fall. His legs are slightly parted and all he’s wearing is his Nike shorts, hair damp and bare chest flushy from the warm shower. He drags his frame to the edge of the bed, so this way his knees are nearlytouching the back of her thighs and looks closely at her skin. 

“It was taking a lot of space in here, took it to the basement,” Shawn answers nonchalantly, remembering how it used to be in front of his mirror and taking her arm in his hand as he rubs it with his thumb. “Does it hurt?” 

Y/N notices how he switches look from the back of her arm to her covered body, the fabric of her towel sliding down and exposing her back to him. So, she starts inching her bum up as her spine and hips make those curves Shawn misses so much getting lost onto. He presses his lips together, moving his hand down and bringing his other hand to cup her waist to pull hercloser. Y/N smiles to herself, seeing in front of her the reflection of his face being covered by her silhouette — Shawn, behind her, couldn’t feel moretortured by having her gorgeous body almost glued on him. He knows she’s being a tease on purpose, but little does she know he’s got plans for tonight, so he gives the first hint by kissing the area his thumb was caressing before.

“You’ve never answered my question,” Shawn points out, looking up at her with hungry eyes that she can catch sight by the mirror. Y/N knows this look. She knows she’s starting to get cornered and it spurs atiny bit of ache in between her legs. Just to make sure, she only nods indenial and Shawn smirks at this, understanding that she’s giving into his game. “See, it’s fun to me how you walked around in that tight swimsuit yoursall day,” His hands wander lower, holding the sides of her thighs. “Knowing how bad it messes with me,” Falling an octave, his voicebecomes raspy and Y/N breathes deeply. “And you still try to trap meby playing the fool, eh?” 

Y/N feels her heart racing, recognising that she had started the cheap talk of sunburn just to get his attention on her. It’s been almost two months since he left for tour, which means two months of only having her in his unholy thoughts. The knot in front of her chest gets undone and, before she can hold it together, Shawn grabs her arms and gently sets them behind her back. The towel simply falls, pooling around her feet as it gives him her entire body for him to finally remember her about her manners.

“You had to be a brat, didn’t you?” Shawn whispers and the silence in his bedroom is so heavy she thinks he can hear her gulping. Holding her wrists, Shawn makes his way back to where he was standing before and helps her sit down on the mattress with him, pulling her body closer and closer until his back is against the wall and hers against his front. “Just a couple of months away from me, you already forget how to behave?” 

She only tilts her head against his shoulder and searches for his eyes, staring at him with her most angelic face. 

“I asked you a question,” With his free hand, he holds her jawline towards his face. Their noses are weakly brushing together as his hazel eyes glance deep into hers. “And, this time, I’d like an answer.” 

Y/N sighs, taking a moment to notice how red and tempting his lips look and then how dark his eyes are. Holding her breath a little and faking her most innocent look, she parts her mouth and let her words slip out in a sob, “No, daddy. Sorry.”

At this, Shawn smiles proudly and releases her wrists to hold her middle. He presses her body against his, with her arms trapped in between their frames, and firms his graze on her face. 

“Sorry’s not enough, is it?” He mumbles with lips faintly scratching hers, never giving her a chance to move away. Y/N tries to steal a peck, but Shawn moves his hand ever–so–lightly to place his calloused finger on top of her mouth. The hand that was previously locking her arms together, now around her waist, toys with the valley of her breasts in a touch that tickles her senses. “Spread your legs open for me.”

Shawn doesn’t care to look at her shaky thighs parting unhurriedly, his eyes are still focused on hers and she reciprocates. He notices a smirk slowly drawing the corner of her mouth, which makes his bottom lip get stuck in between his teeth. God, she knows exactly how to push him over the edge and he’s not sure how much of it he wants to shut down, but he knows he better step up soon. 

“‘M gonna give you the rules,” Shawn murmurs, moving his hand to circle the skin around her nipple and Y/N’s back arches a little. “What happens if you disobey me?” 

“I,” Y/N lets out a shaky breath, closing her eyes as the tips of his fingers come to graze her nipple in a flimsy touch. “I don’t get to cum.” 

“Good girl,” He praises. “First thing for tonight is to keep quiet, ‘cause we don’t want anyone to find out who’s touching this pussy so good, hm?” His touch gets assertive, cupping her left breast as she tries hard to keep her breathing pattern.

This time, Shawn is the one smirking as her teasing expression flies away when his fingers pinch her bud. 

“Second,” Shawn licks his lips, watching her face softening and sweet sighs escaping her lips. “Open those pretty eyes for me,” As soon as he demands, Y/N opens her eyes and waits for another instruction. Shawn moves her face delicately to the front, where her sight meets the mirror. “Today you’ll watch your pretty little cunt wet under my control, no eyes closing, no looking away,” He says close to her ear.

The hand on her chin drags its way down her neck, where his lips attack as soon as his palm goes to her shoulder, right breast — where he gives a squeeze that gets her legs clenching — waist, hipbone and the inner part of her thigh. 

“Lastly, these stay open too,” With a forceful pressure, he separates her right leg from the left one. From the mirror, Shawn can see the glisten of her wanting heat and Y/N gasps whenever his fingers slide up and down repeatedly, yet leisurely. She can feel her clit throbbing and entrance begging to be grazed, her hips bucking up timidly as she hopes to find his hand with this. “The more you move, the less you get. Weren’t you my good babygirl?” He mouths against her neck, still teasing her nipples and everytime his hand goes down, he purposely touches closer to where she wants, but never there. Y/N is holding back her own respiration, fearing it would come out way too heavily. So she only shakes her head. “Then what do good girls do to get what they want?” 

“Stick to daddy’s rules,” She whispers desperately, catching Shawn’s face by the mirror with puppy eyes supplicating for a touch. 

Shawn smiles proudly, holding her boob and pressing her body to his as he’s back peppering kisses along her neck, eventually sucking the most sensitive spots. When he feels she’s getting used to his caresses, relaxing against him, he removes his hand from her leg to map the outline of her lips with his forefinger. Y/N doesn’t hesitate, parting her mouth and poking her tongue out. This makes Shawn twitch in his shorts, length pulsating every now and then against her back and hands close to his bulge. Gracefully, Shawn inserts his finger inside her lips and Y/N welcomes it with a lick first, wetting it with her circling tongue. Soon after, she keeps his finger in her mouth and sucks just as she would do with his aching member stuck on his cloth. Ever so often, Shawn thrusts his finger to meet her head bobbing back and forth, admiring the good job of his girlfriend doing whatever she can to earn his touch. When he takes his finger out, she releases with a pop and he travels his hand to her breast again, circulating her nipple with his finger and leaving behind a cold and wet stripe until it reaches her pussy. He uses to fingers to spread her folds and Y/N whimpers, moving her hips up once again. 

“Shhhh,” Shawn promptly quiets Y/N, his breath fanning the damp spots he had sucked before on her neck. His fingers massage her swollen clit, spurring the coil on her lower stomach and sparkling electric waves through her nerves. She can’t help but search for his cock, trying to palm it with her hands still stuck behind her back. A sob erupts from her lips when he traps her clit in between the length of his fingers, the pressure going up and down as he holds it carefully, moving his hand skillfully. “Daddy missed this sweet cunt so much,” He mumbles lowly, seeing her skin getting goosebumps. 

Shawn often switches from rubbing her clit to teasing her soaked entrance, threatening to insert his fingers but then moving back to her little nub. Y/N bites her lip strongly, finding hard not to moan or close her eyes. He, on the other hand, has no intentions to help her with it — the more she squirms against him, the more his touch gets intense, her pussy going wetter and wetter as his fingers glide along the extension of her heat. Almost unconsciously, Y/N tilts her head up to lie above his shoulder and her eyes fall shut, a little hum echoing just loud enough for him to hear it. Huffing, he taps her pussy to get her attention — just softly, qucikly coming back to rub her clit faster. His hand leaves her breast and hold her neck, choking her lightly. 

“I said to look at the mirror, honey,” Shawn speaks through gritted teeth. His fingers suddenly thrust inside her pussy and Y/N cries, body giving up. “And shut up.” 

Some footsteps can be heard along the corridor, and Shawn tests Y/N by grazing her g–spot precisely, with fingers gradually pressing onto it with a cocky force. Her jaw falls open, staring at him through the mirror where she can see his devilish smirk growing along with her desire to cum. Y/N manages to take her hands from behind her back to go up and find his neck, scratching her nails on the nape of it and tugging his curls. Shawn quickens his pace only to slow it down again whenever her pussy starts squelching from the wetness, avoiding to relief the knot on her stomach ready to snap at anytime. Tired of being tortured, Y/N inches her head close to him again and turns her face to whisper on his ear. 

“Please, daddy,” She takes a handful of his locks, using that irresistible tone Shawn’s a fool for. “Wanna cum on your cock so bad,” 

This time, he’s the one to drop his head back and smile to the ceiling. He drives his fingers into her in intervals, every push ends up with his palm colliding with her pulsating clit and fingers sliding into her tight core. Shawn moves his head back and sees that his hand is all soaked, her frame long given up against him barely sane to respond for itself. The footsteps trail the way back to a room and Shawn tucks his fingers deep inside of her, hand pumping in place to please get spot and clit at the same time and Y/N’s head starts to spin. It’s all too much, the sensation of the double stimulation making her mind go insane, hands grabbing everywhere. When Shawn sees that her legs are starting to tremble and her feels her throat under his palm ready to let a moan escape, he takes his hand away and leaves her hips jerking in the air. 

“Up on your feet, hands on the mirror,” He demands. 

As Y/N recovers her senses with difficulty, getting up and bending, Shawn gets up too and undoes the front strap of his shorts, unzipping it as well. His member stands proud, bouncing up when the cloth falls down and Y/N can feel her mouth watering, pussy clenching around nothing and thirsty for him. There’s pre–cum on the rosy tip, veins coming closer to the surface and he starts to pump his length while he kicks the shorts aside, walking to her. 

“I’m glad you’ve remembered most of your manners,” Shawn lines himself up, grabbing her ass vigorously. “But I thought I told you not to move,” Y/N looks at him from the mirror, then turning her head to stare at him standing behind her. He spreads her pussy lips apart, setting himself on her entrance and inserting just the beginning of the tip, trying not to slide all the way in so soon. “Since you like doing it so much,” Running his hand through his curls, he doesn’t wait to hold her waist with one palm and keep the other on her ass, watching the skin being squeezed hardly by his fingers. “You can start bouncing.”

Y/N grins at him, looking in his eyes from above her shoulder. Shawn maps every single inch and curve of her body, admiring every freckle, every mark lovingly. When she moves against him, they both let a sigh slip out from the tightness of her core embracing his member so damn well. He guides her in until he bottoms out, briefly reaching her sweet spots here and there and she clenches. 

After the first movements, Shawn gives her ass a last grip with both hands before they go behind his back, offering her his hard cock and nothing else, since she shivered way too much previously. But the lack of touch doesn’t change her desire to give them both the best orgasms of their lives, turning her face back to the mirror where her hands are pressing onto for dear life. 

Gradually, Shawn takes steps closer, so she’ll only bounce shortly — with less space, his cock stays buried deep inside of her most of the time. He bites on his lip when he looks in the mirror, her face contorting in pleasure as she dares to tease his dick with round movements, practically slow dancing with him deliciously thrusting inside of her. The smoothness of their heats is too much too handle. Shawn’s abs contract everytime Y/N goes all the way back, to a point there’s not a single millimeter of his length left out — and when she moves forward, his dick is soaked with her wetness. In a swift motion, he pulls her by the hair very delicately and glues her body on his again. She shudders, feeling now his delightful cock stuffing her so wonderfully as the tip rubs a new spot she didn’t know she had, jaw falling along with his when he also feels his sensitive head leaking more pre–cum inside her walls. 

“Look at you, baby,” He says, tattooed arms embracing her waist as he meets her hips with delicious pounds. “See how pretty you look taking my cock so good, eh? My pretty babygirl, doing daddy so well,” Y/N accidentally lets a groan leave her lips, making Shawn shut her up with his own mouth this time. Her eyes are watering from how good he’s caressing her spot, core so constricted around his thick member filling her up. 

“Be quiet, pretty girl,” He says close to her ear, raspy tone hitting her dirty intentions right in point. “As much as I’d love everyone to hear who’s making you feel this good, you’ll have to keep it for when we’re home.” 

Shawn drives his hips against Y/N twice very forcefully, getting her weak in the knees as he picks up the fastest pace he can without slamming his skin with hers, avoiding to wake someone up right now that the coil in his stomach is ready to explode just as hers. The way he glides in and out along with his two fingers coming to rub her clit drives her to a whole another world, making her vision go blurry. She sighs against his palm repetitively, her walls pulsating harder and heavier with him tucked inside of her until it becomes impossible to hold back their highs. Her orgasm washes over her body suddenly, her limbs trembling and moans silenced by his hand as Shawn empties himself inside her dripping heat.

When Y/N’s body softens, Shawn holds her tight and kisses her temple and cheek, praising lowly how good she’s been.

“I’m glad the mirror didn’t get broken,” He chuckles and she follows, arms on top of his as her eyes close. 

“Me too,” She confesses. “Didn’t know you were into this kind of stuff.” 

“Neither did I,” Shawn responds. “Was I too rough? You good?” 

“No, I’m alright. More than alright, actually,” Y/N answers and Shawn removes himself slowly, still holding her. “I think we need another shower.” 

Shawn watches Y/N pick her towel from the floor and offer him her hand, inviting him with a tired smile.

“Can we take your swimsuit too?”

[benhaardy]

fresh || b.h.

REQUEST: an imagine where the reader is friends with ben from her first year of highschool, and they stay friends through till sixth form, before they move to uni they confess their feelings for each other and it’s all fluffy and nice💖💖💖

A/N: helloooo thank you for sending me a request i hope i did this justice!! im super rusty but here goes!!!!!! i feel like a noob cause i dont really know how drama clubs function sorry but this is how the clubs i’ve been in kinda functioned during a free time period yknow? also i hope i got the school stuff right lol im aMeRiCan. yeet i would loveeeee some feedback because this is the first time ive ever written in second person so uhhh hit up my askbox! also i am basic and do not know anything about high school plays so they do romeo and juliet i apologize, yes it is basic and all quotes from it are taken OUT OF CONTEXT so uh just-just disregard romeo and juliet the play and characters and yeah whatever.

i tried my hardest to make this neutral for the reader so hair, eye colour, skin, shouldn’t be a problem though there is some playing with your hair tho lol.

Y/HT means your hometown.

had a blast writing this, thank you for sending in a request <3333. hope you like!

Wordcount: 2.1k

Warnings: fem!reader, one or two bad words?, p fluffy and also l o l rusty writer right here. this wasn’t proofread and was beta’d halfway so apologies for any inaccuracies or typos.

fresh

Isabel led you down the long hallway, fluorescent lights beaming down upon both of you as you walked. She looked behind at you, encouraging and cheerful as always. As you made your way to the drama room, you clenched your fists and breathed deeply. You had joined the drama club at the encouraging of Isabel, wanting to finally make more friends after a few days of being in this new school, this whole new place. Everything was different here, but maybe you could have one constant in this close group of people. You were nervous. It showed. She reassured, “Don’t worry, Y/N. We’re probably, like, the most relaxed people on this campus. You’ve got nothing to worry about, alright?”

You nodded at her, a tight smile on your lips. Hopefully, she was right. Though you’d always known drama kids to be loud and fun, you couldn’t help but shake that self-conscious feeling inside.

She opened the door for you both and let you enter before her into the room. The walls were painted black and had colourful drawings and paintings hung up on them which were student made. In the middle of the room were at least 15 people either sitting in chairs or scattered about on the ground. They were all doing their own thing. Some people were acting out scenes with each other, others were just talking amongst themselves or playing around. Two boys were in the corner kicking a football at each other while reciting A Midsummer Night’s Dream.

“Everyone? Welcome Y/N to the club!” You waved shyly at them and their exclamations at your presence. “Come over here with me,” said Isabel, who showed you over to an open seat in the middle of the room, next to a blonde boy. His face lit up at the sight of you coming to him.

“You must be the great Y/N Izzy’s always talking about!” He patted the seat next to him where you sat down. “I’m Ben.” He grinned at you, pearly whites shining. Ben adjusted his beanie and sat nonchalantly, hands in his hoodie pockets.

“Y/N,” you replied. You were still on edge but Ben seemed nice enough. You two sat for a little in silence, watching the chaos of the club in motion. Isabel had left to kick the football with the boys.

“So Y/N,” he piped up, ”tell me about yourself.” He sat forward, intent on listening to whatever you were gonna say.

“I moved here from Y/HT. I was never really into drama before now, I guess, but I used to act when I was younger. Isabel convinced me to join again ‘cause I’m still trying to find my way around here,” you replied, a small, nervous laugh following your words.

“Well, you’ll always be welcome here! I joined after I got injured and I fell in love with acting. I hope you stay.” Ben grinned at you, a glint in his eye.

--

Three years had passed. Three years of plays and lawless drama kids and Ben. You had grown extremely close with him, hanging out as much as possible, helping each other with your lines, and staying near each other during rehearsals and meetings. Both of you were attached at the hip. You were more at his house then you were at your own.

You had simply just fit. Snug and at home with each other. Snug enough that you had grown to have feelings for him. You prayed that it was just those normal feelings that people have for their best friends, where they were teetering dangerously over the line of romance but stayed safe, still platonic. Your prayers were not answered and you had fallen, hard, for your best friend.

It was hard to hide your feelings, hard to hide when he was so kind. Ben was willing to hold you up when you were low and willing enough to know pretty much everything about you without forgetting what you liked and what irked you. He hosted you at his house with no problem. Though you did the same, it was great knowing someone would give that same love back.

He was so affectionate and always greeted you with a grin and a kiss on the cheek. “Darling,” “love,” and “angel,” were synonymous with your name at this point. Ben invited you out to grab food, or watch a movie, or go shopping, and he always paid without fail. When you left his presence, when you looked down upon yourself, “I love you’s” from him were always, always there. Ben embraced you with open arms, in a figurative way and literally.

He was home. Simple as that.

Your friends summed it up when they said that you and Ben were like,”an old, married couple.” His warmth spread into your heart and now it felt like it was squeezing it. Squeezing it and then dropping it on the floor. Multiple times. Strange enough, you hadn’t changed much on the outside. You were still the same old Y/N around him but the second you got home, everything changed. You sat at your desk, head in hands. You were supposed to be doing homework but that was thrown out the window once you hung out with him that day, your mind taken over.

On those complicated nights, you contemplated telling Ben everything: how you planned out your words so you wouldn’t say anything stupid around him, how you sat alone with your thoughts at night just thinking, thinking about him, how his “I love you” made your heart pang with longing and fondness. You were worried everything would change. Even though you knew if you became a couple, nothing would become any different than before.

You could not take that chance. You couldn’t risk losing Ben.

--

You were laying down on Ben’s chest, him propped up on his backpack against the wall in the drama room. Both of you were reading from the script in your hands. His chin was on your head and you could feel him mouthing the words to his lines. He was playing with your hair mindlessly, this affection, again, extremely apparent. You turned your head to look at him and poked his cheek, to which he responded by puffing out his cheeks. Both of you laughed and resumed your routine, watching your ever chaotic drama mates be loud and rehearse, all in preparation for your last ever play before university: Romeo and Juliet.

Ben was cast as Romeo and you, Juliet. Before, you both had preferred taking side roles. You two were hidden gems, the quiet ones, but Isabel had pushed you to try to take the lead one time. Everyone was working as hard as ever to make the play special; a fourth of the club was off to uni after this year.

He put his arms around your waist, squeezed your body tight, and nuzzled his face into your shoulder as you read out loud, “O gentle Romeo, / If thou dost love, pronounce it faithfully.” He read his part and you both read until Juliet had to leave.

You could feel Ben’s chest go up and down as he breathed steadily. It was as if there was no one else in the room other than you two as you practiced your lines. You recited,

“And yet I wish but for the thing I have:

My bounty is as boundless as the sea,

My love as deep; the more I give to thee,

The more I have, for both are infinite.”

--

Tonight was the last performance of Romeo and Juliet. It was extremely bittersweet. You could see how everyone had improved in their methods over the years and today was the last demonstration of that, the last day everyone would truly be together like this. Everyone was going to different universities, all for different reasons and majors. Romeo and Juliet was your final curtain.

Ben’s family came to you after you dressed out of your costume. They gave you flowers and sung their praises at your performance. They gave you a ride to the diner where you were to meet with the rest of the club to celebrate your successful performances.

Both of you shuffled into a booth in the corner along with the other 4 members who had their last performances sat with you. You and Ben ordered your normal stack of pancakes and fruit. He had his arm around you the entire time, switching from your shoulder to your waist every once in a while as you both conversed with the rest of your uni-bound friends. Your friend who was sitting on yours and Ben’s side left to talk with the lower classmen. Leaning against Ben, you put your feet up on the rest of the booth.

“Hand me my makeup wipes, yeah?” You asked Ben, pointing back to your bag on his side. You heard him rummaging around in your things.

“Here, love.” He gave you the wipes and you wiped off all of the heavy stage makeup, undid your hair, and shook it all out. You sat up again and looked up at him who looked as if he was watching you closely. It was only one second, though. Only one second.

--

Your food had come, the meal had been had, the cheerful crying at your third-to-last goodbyes to your group had ceased and now you and Ben were walking home together through the park close to your own house. The ground was wet with rain, though thankfully, it had subsided and there were no clouds lightening the night sky. The moon was full, the grass was dewy, and there was potential in the air. A spark.

As he walked alongside you, you thought of how his kiss during the play had stuck on your lips and how his hand tightly clasped in yours while you professed your love felt. Though the words of Juliet just flew through you, it all felt real, even with the period costumes and lights and stage. His lines were simply just that. Lines. Words that were written 400 years ago, in language from 400 years ago that he acted out on stage to you and you back to him. But it just felt real, much too real. You were alone with your thoughts once again, the subject of them standing just right beside you in silence himself.

“Y/N?” Ben piped up.

“Yes?” You looked at him looking up at the sky.

“Don’t you think how crazy it is that three years ago we met, we talked about why we joined the club, and you were really only here on a whim? Now tonight, it’s our last performance in this group ever. And you weren’t even sure if you wanted to stay! We’re here now and I was Romeo and you were my Juliet and—I just feel as if everything’s that led up to us being here was so special. Like you were meant by the universe to join the club, sit next to me and talk to me and be my best friend. You were a blessing, Y/N, my blessing, and I just-”

Your smile grew and grew and grew and your pulse quickened and everything felt wild. Absolutely, motherfucking wild. Your limbs were jelly. There were alarms going off in your brain “You just what, Ben?” You said softly, tears at your eyes at his lovely, lovely words. He turned to face you as you both stopped underneath a lamppost, the light and the moonlight softly illuminating features. Your best friend stepped closer to you. “You just what, Ben?” You now whispered, seeing his own gooey smile and his eyes, filled with tears, drop down to your lips and back up again to your eyes.

“I just—I love you, Y/N,” he whispered. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too, Ben.” Your grin was wide enough that it squeezed the tears out of your eyes. “I’ve loved you since, like, year 11!” You laughed while wiping away the wetness from your face.

He blushed and took your hand in his. “I got a crush on you two months after we met, dude.”

“No freaking way, Ben!” Your eyes went wide. He liked you for this long? And here you were contemplating everything, overthinking everything!

“Yes, way!” He laughed. “I didn’t want to leave it until we left to uni together because I know I’d be agonizing over it. They say uni’ll be the best years of our lives so… why not start it out with a bang? In more than one way, if you know what I’m saying…” he said playfully, winking. You rolled your eyes and made an attempt at pushing his shoulder, but you both snickered at his joke.

“I love you, Ben. Seriously.”

“And I love you, Y/N. Seriously.”

[alexanderhamllton]

Bears, Boxes and Broken Bones [Lin-Manuel Miranda x Reader]

Request: could you please write a fix where the reader & Lin get more serious and the reader & readers daughter semi move into Lina bachelor pad and he finds it weird and then at the end of fic he realises he wants to make a family with reader???? Ish??? Idk??? :)

Word Count: 1,696

Warnings: broken wrist? is this a warning? haha other than that, none!

A/N: So, I changed the request just a tiny bit and made the reader’s daughter a 10-year-old, not a teenager (idk why, i think i like the idea of Lin interacting with kids). Also a huge shourout to mackie @protecting-my-legacy that helped me with this and got a little homage -sof’s injury-. Hope you feel better soon Mackie! So i guess that’s all the notes i have for this one, hope y’all like it! (PS: i am the worst with titles i hate this title but don’t let it define this fic lmao)

askbox | masterlist

“I think you should move in.” Lin’s voice is almost a whisper, but it wakes up from your half-asleep state.

You and Lin have been dating for almost a year, but for some reason he never mentioned you moving in or vice-versa, maybe that’s why it took you so much to comprehend what he was saying. “Wait, what?”

“Don’t you think it’s time?” He says as he plays with your hair. Cuddling in bed with him and having nothing to worry about was always the start of an important conversation for the two of you: The first time this happened, you decided to introduce Lin to your daughter, Sofia. She was 10 and the result of your first marriage, a problematic relationship that didn’t last more than two years. You regretted many things about it, Sofia wasn’t one of them.

“Well, I guess? Do you think it’s a good idea?” You asked, now tracing random patterns on his chest with your finger. “I mean, you can move to our place…”

“My place is bigger, closer to Sofia’s school and the Richard Rodgers.” He simply answered. Lin tried not to show, but you know he put a lot of thought on that idea.

“We’d have to talk to her about it, are you sure?” You turned to him, placing a few strands of hair away from his face. “Do you really want to give up your man cave, Lin-Manuel?”

The teasing tone on your voice - and calling him Lin-Manuel - made he wrap your hands around your waist and turn you against the bed, his body now hovering over yours and making you giggle. “Man cave, my place is not a man cave!”

“Your clothes on the floor and the empty fridge beg to differ.” You replied before pulling Lin to a kiss. “What time is it?”

“Almost two, I guess…”

“Shit, we need to pick Sofia up at four.” You said before getting out of the bed. Your ex-husband, Jess, stayed with her every two weekends, and these were usually the weekends you’d stay at Lin’s.

“Okay, let’s go.”  

You parked in front of Jess’ place at precisely four o’clock. Sofia was standing by the door with her father next to her and a teddy bear in her arms,  her face brightening when she saw you hop off the car.

“Mom, look!” She said, running towards you with the toy. The bear was wearing period blue clothes, that you soon recognized as Alexander Hamilton’s outfit from your boyfriend’s show. “This is Alexander Bearmilton!”

“Wow, he’s so handsome!” You acknowledged, pulling your daughter into a hug.

“I can’t wait to show Lin!”

“He’s in the car, why don’t you go there?” You placed a kiss on Sofia’s forehead before she ran off to the car, where Lin greeted her with a hug.

“She wouldn’t stop talking about Hamilton” Jess said, with his hands on his pockets.

“Lin took her to see the show on friday, she fell in love with it.” You commented, not taking your eyes off your daughter and Lin.

“He’s a good guy, [Y/N]. I’m glad you found someone good for you.”

“Thanks Jess, I’m glad you found Alice too.” You replied. “Sofia likes her.”

“Not as much as she likes Lin.”

You were both still watching Sofia and Lin talk in the car: Lin now had grabbed the bear and started to play with it, probably singing some Hamilton song you couldn’t listen as your daughter laughed and sang along.

“Yeah, he’s a keeper.”

one week later

“Two more boxes and we are all set.” You said as Lin came back into the apartment for what seemed the millionth time that afternoon.  

“And that’s because you’re still keeping stuff here.” He added before placing his hands on your hips, pulling you closer.

“You know I can’t sell this place just yet. Sof grew up here, it means a lot to us.”

“I still can’t believe she was so cool about everything.”

“Me neither, she’s the best.”

“Who’s the best?” Sophia entered the living room with her bag and a backpack, ready to go. You both looked at her and you couldn’t help but smile, she was so smart and beautiful.

“You are!” Lin exclaimed, letting go of you and turning to her. “Are you ready to move?”

“I guess… Mom, did you see my sketchbook?”

“I did, it’s already in a box somewhere, you can get it once we start unpacking.”

“Okay.” She said, before turning back to her room, leaving the bags on the floor.

“Where are you going?” You asked, making her look back to you and Lin.

“I’ll check if I didn’t forget anything.”

“Okay, we’ll leave when you’re ready.” You said, resting your head on Lin’s shoulder and receiving a forehead kiss in return. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For being here.” You answered, wrapping your arms around him.

“There’s nothing in the fridge!” Sof’s voice echoed through Lin’s apartment as you finished packing. She gave up opening the boxes hours ago, after finding her sketchbook and pencils, going to the kitchen table and occupying herself with her own creativity.

“Sorry Sof, I didn’t have time to go shopping this weekend!” Lin shouted back while going to where she was. “Wanna order something?”

“Maybe pizza?”

“Pizza sounds great.” He agreed, his eyes going from Sofia to the table full of drawings. “Hey, did you draw these?”

“Mh-mm” she nodded, joining Lin by the table. “I tried to draw Peggy, because she’s little like me.”

“I can see, this is really good!” You were passing by the kitchen when the scene caught your attention. Making as little noise as possible, you watched your boyfriend and your daughter interact like they were, well, family. “I think we should hang this on the fridge, Jasmine would love to see it.”

“Can you maybe take it to her?” Sofia’s voice was way too excited, making her blush and Lin let out an adorable laugh.

“Of course! She’d love to see your art, I bet the other cast members would too.” You couldn’t help but smile when your daughter jumped on Lin’s arms before staring babbling about how she wanted to draw everyone so they wouldn’t feel left out. Once she left the kitchen, Lin noticed you standing by the door, watching the whole thing. “Hey you.”

“Hey.”

“How long have you been there?”

“Some time.” You replied as he got closer and you automatically wrapped your arms around his neck. “Sofia really adores you, you know?”

“She’s amazing, did you see how good her drawings are?”

“I did! I raised her, you know?” You answered, giggling.

The loud noise on the other room interrupted the cute moment between you and Lin, and the sound of your daughter crying made you rush to see what happened.

“Love, are you okay?” You arrived in Sofia’s room to find her trying to get up from the floor, her tears streaming down her face as she held her wrist.

“I- I- I fell… Mommy, it hurts so much.” You brushed her tears away with your hands before assuring her that everything was going to be okay.

“I’ll get the car keys.” Lin rushed out as you picked Sofia up and stormed to the car.

“So it’s just a small fracture in her wrist, she’ll have to wear a cast for at least four weeks. But besides that, she’s perfect.” The doctor’s words removed all the agony from your chest, and apparently from Lin’s. Sofia was sitting between the two of you, silent, her wrist now immobilized by bandages that would soon be replaced by the cast.

“Is there any medicines she needs to take? Anything we need to know?” Lin asked, and you couldn’t help but notice his leg was bouncing, just like every time he’s nervous about something but didn’t want to show, almost like his energy being redirected to an specific action as a way to cope with everything.

“Just… be careful with what she uses to deal with the itch the cast may cause, I have removed way too many pencils and forks from casts before, it’s not pleasant.” The doctor winked at Sofia, that replied with a small smile. “I think you guys are good to go.”

“Thanks, doc.” Lin shook the doctor’s hand before standing up and following you and Sofia all the way to the hospital hallway. “How you feeling, Sof?”

“Better. It still hurts… A little.” He smiled before placing his hand on Sofia’s shoulder, guiding her out of the hospital.  

“Good thing you’re a leftie, you’ll be able to finish the drawings for the cast if ou want!” You commented.

“No way! I’m a leftie too! High-five!” Lin lifted his hand for Sofia, that laughed and high-fived your boyfriend. The connection between them was unreal, and you were so grateful for having him by your side. You remembered the times you had to take her to the hospital by yourself when she was little, having to struggle between the paperwork and a sick toddler. On the way to your apartment, you heard Lin and Sofia talk about her going to see Hamilton again the next week, so she would be able to hand the drawings herself and say hi to the cast.

He was good with kids, he was good with your kid, and you loved him even more for that.

Later that evening, after sending Sofia to bed, you snuggled next to Lin on his couch, his arms open to embrace you as you sit down. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Everything. Having us here, taking care of Sofia with me.” Your eyes were locked on his, and you noticed his smile growing and his eyes glowing as you spoke.

“It’s the least I can do.” You smiled back, your fingers tracing his cheeks before placing a kiss on his lips. “[Y/N]?”

“Yes?”

“Have you ever considering having another kid?”

“Well, I guess.” You noticed his intentions right away. “Why do you want one?”

“Maybe…”

“I think we can talk about that.” You replied before laying your head on his chest. “I love you.”

“I love you too, [Y/N].”