#genuinely dont expect it to happen but the film surely will get the nod right

[rwrbmovie]

Variety: Can Nicholas Galitzine and Taylor Zakhar Perez Land Acting Noms for ‘Red, White and Royal Blue?’

Weekly Commentary (Updated: June 6, 2024): Nicholas Galitzine and Taylor Zakhar Perez light up the screen in Prime Video’s hit romantic comedy “Red, White and Royal Blue.” In addition, they’ve become two of the biggest breakout stars of the year, and with the film being among the frontrunners for outstanding television movie, the pair could be a packaged deal on many Emmy ballots.

[probably-writing-x]

Knocked off guard.

Arón Piper x Reader

Request by @isthatmaryanna : the other one is with aron where he is like super stressed on the filming of season 4 and he ends up bumping the female reader on the set, she apologizes and he got very mad and stuff like that just because he is stressed, and then he finds out she’s new to the cast and is chris new love interest and he starts to get a crush of her and gets jealous when she’s filming scenes with christian till one day he kisses her when they are recording (Wrote this with Samuel instead of Christian so that it matches season 4🤍)

Gif is not my own

Requests are closed🤍

You’d never known nerves like this until today, they’d been basically eating away at you since you’d first woken up and they hadn’t ceased yet. You were terrified of the impression you’d make on your first proper day of filming for Élite and even more terrified of all of the things that could go wrong. You’d made sure to wake up early enough and try to get onto set within enough time but already found yourself rushing to catch up with the hectic schedule.

“Shit,” You mutter to yourself as you try to find your way back to where they’d told you to meet for your first call to makeup and hair.

You’re so busy trying to make sense of the timetable they’d given you that you don’t notice anybody else around you. Only stopping when you knock into one of them abruptly.

“Fuck!” They exclaim as the drink in their hand spills all down their outfit.

You recognised the clothes instantly as the Las Encinas uniform and realise painfully that you’d just made a first impression on one of your cast mates by knocking into them.

“I’m so so sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going-“

“Clearly!” The boy scoffs, trying to pat down the wet patch now covering the front of his crisp white shirt.

“I’m so sorry, I’m-“ You stop as you glance up and recognise him as Arón, who played Ander in the show.

“I’m going to be late,” He rolls his eyes, “Just please try and keep your eyes ahead of you next time.”

With that, he takes off in the opposite direction as you try to regain composure and continue in the direction you’d been previously heading towards.

You reach hair and makeup and it relaxes you when the team are genuinely nice to you for the whole time. They ask you about your new role as Samuels love interest and you chat to them about everything they felt you should know about working on the show.

“No I don’t think we need to-“ A new voice speaks as the door opens and two guys walk in to have their hair and makeup done, “Hey! I don’t think we’ve met before.”

You stand up and recognise the boy as Omar, who played his same name character on the show, “Yeah, no, I don’t think we have. I’m (Y/n), I’m playing Savannah.”

“Yes! I completely forgot you were starting today!” Omar exclaims, “Well, I’m Omar, and this is Arón.”

You glance to the boy that had entered with him and notice him instantly as the boy you’d knocked into earlier. His eyes fall to his feet to avoid eye contact as he instead turns to sit down in one of the chairs to get his hair done.

“Dont worry about him,” Omar rolls his eyes, squeezing the boy’s shoulder, “Someone’s being a little grumpy today. Anyway, tell me about yourself. Have you done much acting before?”

Just like that, the impression you’d made on the cast so far seems to clearly improve. You chat to Omar and get up to the stage where it feels as though you’ve known each other for a lot longer than a matter of minutes.

“When are your first scenes?” Omar asks you, “I’ll walk you down to set if you like.”

“I think I have to be there in ten minutes, that would be great thank you!”

He agrees and the two of you head out to start walking towards where you’d first be filming for the day.

- - - - - -

You’re introduced to Itzan who was going to be your main love interest in the show. It’s a relief when he’s genuinely lovely to you and makes it easy to feel natural around him.

“I wouldn’t worry, this place is full of second chances,” Itzan shakes his head as he speaks Samuels line, “All of us here, we’re on at least our fifth chance.”

“Maybe I won’t do so bad then,” You smile, “Thank you, by the way.”

He readjusts his grip on his bag strap and nods bashfully to you, “It was nice to meet you, (Y/n).”

The director yells cut and somehow you find yourself finishing your first full scene of the day. It had gone a lot more smoothly than you’d expected. Especially having started the day by spilling hot coffee over one of your cast mates.

“Omar and Miguel to set for next scene,” One of the crew calls, you think they introduced themselves earlier but it was already becoming overwhelming to remember all of these new people.

You take your seat on one of the black canvas chairs and prepare to watch the scene unfold in which Guzmán and Omar share a heart to heart about Nadia, where Guzmán confesses everything he regrets about what happened between them and what he would’ve done if he’d have had another chance with her before she left. You’re soon joined by someone beside you in the next seat and glance over to recognise Arón on your right hand side.

“So, you’re the new cast member,” He comments, twisting open his water bottle, “You didn’t introduce yourself earlier.”

“I didn’t really have the chance,” You return, shifting a little in the chair beneath you.

He scoffs, “I was too busy being late and covered in coffee.”

“I did apologise,” You defend, still slightly nervous despite your hope of appearing somewhat confident.

“And I was stressed.”

The conversation falls flat and you let the silence remain as you watch the scene unfold.

- - - - - -

Over the next couple of days, you’re starting to get settled into the motions of things. You’re starting to remember everyone’s names and the crew have been complimenting you on some of your scenes. Itzan was a good screen partner to have, always making you laugh and giving you tips whenever he felt like you were uncertain.

You’re walking through the different sets when you stumble upon Arón in one of the rooms. Nobody was filming at the moment so you found yourself slightly bemused as you watch him flop face down onto the bed beneath him that was normally used as a bedroom in the show.

“You know the cameras aren’t rolling?” You comment, unsure as to why you bother speaking anyway, “Or did you just need to practise that scene?”

He turns his head and looks in your direction. The two of you had spoken very minimally over the past days as he’d clearly continued that stressed attitude ever since you first met. You’d gotten to the point where you simply treated it as him being completely rude. Even if you didn’t want to accept that.

“I just needed some peace,” He mumbles, shuffling on the duvet of the bed as his arms fall at either of his sides.

“Sorry, I’ll leave you,” You comment bashfully, going to walk away.

“How have you been finding it so far?”

It surprises you. Of course it does. Up until now you’d assumed that he simply just didn’t like you. Perhaps not.

“It’s been good, everyone’s been really friendly,” You smile, “And I think my scenes have been going well.”

“Yeah, they won’t stop telling us how great you are,” He scoffs, “Seems like you’ve made a good first impression.”

“Well, on most people.”

He’s silent this time.

“I should go,” You say, not wanting to say anything more that might ruin the nicest moment you’ve shared with him.

“I’m sorry I’ve been so rude to you. I’ve just been a little stressed,” Arón admits, “I’m not really sure how to approach my storylines this season and I guess I’m just letting it get to me too much.”

“What do you mean?” You walk into the room and take a seat on the bed beside him as he shifts to sit up.

“I’ve always had such intense storylines, theres always something bad going on. But, this time, Anders actually happy - him and Omar are doing well for the first time in forever. I’m not really used to it,” He shakes his head, “Sorry, you don’t need to hear my acting problems.”

“Well, I guess I’m not the best person to give advice,” You start cautiously yet again, “But I would say that you should use exactly that. Anders not going to be used to it either, he’s never had that time where he’s simply been happy so he’d probably feel exactly the way that you do about having to act that story. Use that.”

He stays silent and you’re certain you’ve said the wrong thing.

“I’m sorry, I know that’s probably useless bu-“

“No, no, that makes sense,” He interjects, “Thank you.”

“Well, I should go, I asked Itzan if he’d run lines with me,” You explain, “See you later.”

“Yeah, bye (Y/n).”

- - - - - -

The next day, you’re filming your first kiss with Samuel. It sounded silly but you’d never been so nervous to film a scene - it would be the first time where you had to show that sort of affection on camera and it felt intimidating to say the least.

You’d been nervous all morning, for something so annoyingly simple.

You’re hurrying down towards your trailer when you knock into someone on the way.

“Fuck!” You exclaim as your water pours down you.

As irony would have it, it’s Arón stood in front of you.

“Looks like karma circled back round,” He smirks at the sight.

“Not now Arón,” You mutter, dashing off before he can say anything more.

It was harsh, you knew it was deep down. But you were so caught up in your own stress that you couldn’t really think of anything beyond that. You carried on towards your trailer and prayed they’d left you a spare uniform to change into if need be.

It’s ten minutes later when there’s a knock at your door and Arón is stood on the other side.

“Hey! Sorry about that, I should’ve been looking where I was going,” He comments, you’re too pressured to notice how he seemed slightly nervous.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it,” You rush to say as you search for the right script amongst your stuff.

“Are you okay?” He frowns, “You seem a little-“

“Stressed?” You finish for him as you turn around, his appearance relaxing you a little, “I’m sorry, I’ve just got my first kiss scene with Itzan today and I’m really nervous about it.”

He laughs gently, “Why? Do you like him or something?”

“What?” You scoff, “Of course I don’t. I just don’t want to fuck it up.”

“Okay...” Arón starts, “Well, wouldnt your character be nervous too? Maybe you should take your own advice and use that.”

You smirk at his attempts at helping, “Well, this is a real role reversal!”

He steps inside from where he’d been waiting in the doorway and smirks, “Or... you could just practise.”

“Practise?” You cock a brow, “What? Ask Itzan to kiss me before the cameras roll?”

Without any further introduction, Arón takes a stride forward until he’s close enough for you to understand his real intention. He leans in only ninety percent of the way, waiting for your approval to seal the last ten percent. When you do, his eyes flutter shut and his lips curl into a smile against yours.

“Was that your plan all along?” You mumble against his lips as he pulls away.

“We all need ways of coping with stress,” He smirks a little, “Is that so bad?”

You laugh and try to fight against the bold blush on your cheeks.

“And you have nothing to worry about. You’re a much better kisser than Omar.”

“Well, I was coming to get (Y/n) to set but looks like I’ve seen and heard much more than I needed to,” Omar raises his brows from where he stood at your door, “I’ll tell them you’ll be a little late. Close your fucking door next time!” He laughs and walks off.

“Any less stressed?” Arón cocks a brow at you.

“Maybe let’s try that again.”

[taezhu]

mafia!mark

you're drinking coffee and working on an assignment for university when you first meet mark

You remember that so well because it was quite a meeting indeed

Or rather you didnt exactly meet him at all - his existence was kind of thrown in your face

you had taken out your earphones because you could hear some shouting and were a little confused

and you see one guy run past the window of the coffee shop and you think there must be some drama

but then another man runs past and then darts back into the coffee shop and looks around at everyone

and he meets your eyes and nods once, running over to you and taking the seat opposite to you

and you're dumbfounded because what is he doing?? Why is he sitting with you??

He pulls off his jumper, tossing it beside you, messes up his hair and removes his face mask

ooh hes kinda cute

what are you saying hes literally probably a criminal

he shuts your laptop and reaches for your hand and obviously you pull your hand away and he just looks at you with wide eyes

"please can you pretend to be my girlfriend for like 2 minutes, it's really important"

and you're apprehensive but he genuinely looks scared and you feel kinda bad for him

"Just so you know, holding my hand doesn't automatically make you my boyfriend"

he smiles uncomfortably and looks down to the table, attempting to be a boyfriend you assume

so you genuinely ask him a question about it

"I'm guessing you haven't had a girlfriend before then?"

he looks up to you and doesn't answer for a moment, then shakes his head

so you hum, pulling put your phone and showing him the first thing that comes up on Instagram

"who are you hiding from? someone tried to mug you?"

he shakes his head and tells you he can't answer that

"Can I at least know your know your name?"

and he tells you its mark, and you're a little confused because he doesn't look like mark

"I'm from Canada, visiting a friend out here"

and there wasnt much other conversation because mark got a call and dashed out of there without saying another word

but you don't forget mark, you remember him quite clearly and were kinda annoyed that he just dashed

Though it was pushed to the back of your mind with everything else going on

Until one day hes standing at your front door with flowers and you're apprehensive at first but he tells you sorry

"I shouldn't have just left without even saying bye, or thanking you or anything. It was a dick move"

or rather he told the others what he did and they told him to apologise to you, which he did

but you'll act like that's not the case for now

and mark kind of shoves the flowers in your hands and then goes to walk away but you stop him

"you're not even going to come in for tea?"

"I dont drink tea"

"Do you have any friends, mark? Be honest"

And mark tells you, after being basically forced to sit down in your front room, that yes he has some friends

Though he doesn't exactly explain them as friends and they seem more like work colleagues

Judging from how mark talks, they probably were friends

as it turns out mark is just awkward and when you offer him a beer you had in your fridge he takes it and hes fine after a little alcohol

he is literally a completely different person and starts to tell you about him

that he was born in Canada but came over here for work and that he works with his friends and that he does stuff with information

and he tells you about Jisung who he looks after and their friendship sounds cute enough

He stays till pretty late just talking with you and doing dumb stuff

It was kind of a date but part of you thinks that he is an oversharer too

and its pretty dark out so you say he can sleep on your couch and expect him to say no

But to your surprise mark just says okay and lays down and pulls a blanket over him straight away

and you're like… okay then goodnight

thinking things to be normal you wake up the next morning to someone banging on the door

and when you walk out mark is jumping around trying to pull his clothes on

he meets your eyes and is like "can you hide"

of course you kinda freak out but mark ushers you into the bathroom and pulls the door shut but doesn't close it

"If you hear me shout, go out the window and go to the white glass building on fifth, ask for Haechan"

and you nod because you're confused and expect to have to jump out of the window but no

mark opens your door and is greeted warmly by someone else and it seems to be friendly

You peek around the door and see him with two other guys and one of them catches your eyes

"omo mark, is this the girl you were talking about?"

Mark looks back to you with wide eyes like uhhhhh

"The hot girl? One you wanted to ask on a date?" the other one asks

oof mark wanted to murder jisung right there and then but he just stared wide eyes and tried to interupt but haechan cut him off

“Did we interrupt something? Are you guys in the middle of something?”

It must have been the blanket and you wearing shorts and a tank top that supposedly gave it away

And in the meanwhile you’re just standing watching the three of them with no idea what is going on

Until haechan walks forward to introduce yourself and suddenly you’re bffs with two of them and mark is standing awkwardly watching you all

So as it turns out, mark is just super awkward in general and doesnt ever have a clue on what to say to anyone

Bless him, he has barely any conversational skills yet he still somehow tries

Back to what actually happens

Mark is dragged away by haechan and jisung who introduce themselves, but he messages you later since he left his phone number to apologise again

And you tell him to stop apologising to you because he doesn’t need to so mark apologises again

yeah, thats something that happens a lot

You guys go on an official date, but not a date, a few days later

To the cinema actually to watch something, since you were both looking at watching it before hand and were talking about it

and it’s pretty cute, mark picks you up and you get there a bit early so when you’re waiting you can hear some old ladies saying that you were cute

mark’s cute cheek blush… unbeatable

everything is pretty normal so you’re hoping that maybe this one date, it will be the one where everything runs smooth

And it is for a bit

You’re almost 40 minutes into the movie and it’s not actually that good so you start thinking back to mark telling you to look for haechan if he screamed

You never actually brought that up to him again

But you did think that that was a bit weird

Especially since he seemed super creeped out and actually scared

somehow you’re coming up with the strangest of conspiracy theories and mark must have noticed because he turns to you and asks if you’re okay

then goes on to tell you that he thinks the movies is really boring and that he hasn’t been paying attention for a while now

It was a great opportunity for you to flirt a little, and you’re so close to telling him your other ideas but

As per usual, your plans are interrupted

This time by two guys who come into the cinema screen and mark notices and suddenly tells you to look forward and not react

The two guys come and sit a few rows behind you and you definitely can tell something is wrong

Five minutes pass and mark tells you to go bathroom on the other side of the cinema and wait until he texts you

And of course you do it and you wait in a stall with your feet pulled up because you’re genuinely scared

Ten minutes and no texts from mark

Another ten and you’re worried that something has happened to him

so though you know you shouldn’t you decide to leave and look for him

and you end up walking into the most silent of corridors, literally it is something from a horror film

having a little bit of sense you don’t go back to the screen and instead go to the front desk so you’re around a lot of people

your smart plan seems to work in your favour when you are met with a big group of people waiting for a screening of another film

you’re still waiting another fifteen minutes later so you decide to call mark but he declines your call and texts you to wait

that isn’t the best response you’ve ever gotten and you text him back that you’ll be in the coffee shop next door

But you’re never actually met by mark, and instead by this older guy who probably is like 7 or 8 years older than mark meets you

you’re not sure who he is but he sits down opposite you and hands you a card with the ‘KDY Finance’ on it and his number

there’s a lot of confusion again when the guy leaves you and there is still no sign of mark

there isn’t any sign of mark for the rest of that week actually

and the week after that, and after that too

mark is missing for about a month before you find the contact card for KDY finance and try calling the number

you assume the guy you met picks up when it is a deeper voice that answers, and he says that it is Doyoung speaking

so you just say it’s you, from the coffee shop

and he hums, telling you to come to his office in 40 minutes and to ask for him

needless to say you don’t fit in there because they’re all professionals and you’re wearing yesterdays clothes

but regardless, after a judgemental look from the receptionist you’re taken to his office and you see ‘doyoung’ again

as well as mark, who looks like he has the last of bruises and cuts over him

You’re really surprised to see him but apparently mark isn’t, he runs straight over to you and hugs you really tight

“I thought you were gonna call the next day, not wait like a month! I’ve been waiting this whole time for you to call!”

“Well why didn’t you call me, idiot!”

doyoung chips in that he wasn’t allowed to, and you realise that there is definitely more going on here

and mark will tell you, eventually

give it like two or three days maybe less because if you ask he will tell you straight away

and maybe he will confess a bit more to you too~

[mythiica]

Reader x Shingen Takeda - Tiger of the Bedroom {NSFW}

Title: Tiger of the Bedroom

Fandom: Ikemen Sengoku

Character: Shingen Takeda

Genre: lets get this smUT, AU

Warnings: cringe and smut

Kinks: HORRIBLE dirty talk that i will try to make sexy, blowjob, fingering, squirting, biting, sucking, kissing, being filmed, internal cumshot, external cumshot, creampie, idk a lot of stuff 

Intended Gender Audience: Female Audience 

Word Count: 3797 words

POV: second person

Other comments: thank you @breadcheese444​ for helping me beta this!!! also @rainylune​ and @reluctantclementine​ challenged me to write this <3 hope yall enjoy. there are more comments explaining the smut at the very end (read the smut first otherwise youll spoil the smut) . hold on to ur panties,,, I did kind of take the easy way out of this and this is a pornstar!shingen x pornstar!mc AU (what an au) . also, dont @ me im not a porn star so just take this all as fiction idk the details im just a writer anyways hf with ur porn

.

.

.

If you said you weren’t excited, you would be lying. Filming a scene with Shingen Takeda is an honor. After all, he has earned the title Tiger of the Bedroom for a reason. Not the Tiger of Squirt, or the Tiger of Bondage, no, he is the tiger of the room itself because he is good at everything and anything that conspires in the bedroom.  The man is also known for being flirtatious and charming even off the set, making him especially dangerous. Rumors say that he held up for nearly half a day during a particular shoot and kept a girl going for hours for another film. 

          You flip through the script for the hundredth time, gripping the worn paper between your manicured nails. A new writer is trying to make their break with their story, but you don’t really know how you will be able to make any of it sound appealing. Who the fuck asks to be given ‘seeds’? Rolling your eyes, you toss the packet onto your vanity and check your makeup. 

         Although you’ve already met Shingen, you are the slightest bit apprehensive about shooting this. Would you be able to put on a show? Would he be able to tell if you fake it? There is always a level of uncertainty in this business, but you swallow your worries and pull your robe over your shoulders. 

         Glancing up at the clock, you realize that you are due on set in just a matter of minutes. No use in procrastinating now. It would be easier to have fun, no? 

         When you greet him, he gives you a bright smile and kisses your hand. “Just to confirm, you know the designated safe word?” 

         You blink, not sure of the last time someone asked you that. “Yeah, no worries.” 

         Again he smiles, but this time he does so with his entire face. It is a kind gesture, and you appreciate it. Now that the formalities are over, he takes a seat on the bed and offers you a hand. “Are you ready?” 

You did not realize how big he was when you watched some of his other films for… research. Shingen stripped himself and now stands in front of you, holding himself. How is he already erect? 

         Pushing the questions out of your mind, you arch your back, making your ass protrude towards the camera. As you wrap your fingers around the base of his cock, Shingen exhales sharply. His hand falls down to take a handful of hair. He pulls it back, but then tangles his fingers in your locks, giving him something to grip onto as you take him into your mouth. 

         You gag slightly as his tip brushes the back of your throat. There is still more of him to take, but he does not force himself. A strangled moan escapes his lips, giving you the cue to start bobbing your head. Your lips are like velvet, sliding down his length with ease – for someone with his reputation, Shingen tenses quickly, but you guess that he is just used to this type of treatment. 

         Precum weeps from his tip and dribbles down the side of your mouth. One of the cameras pans around to film you from the front, so you pull your head back and let the white mixture spill from your lips. It falls onto his member, so you use it as lubricant to pump him slowly. With just one hand on him, you barely cover half of his length – the other hand is busy strumming the soft skin where his thigh connects to his body. Pressing a lazy kiss to the inside of his thigh, you look Shingen directly in the eye and smirk deviously. “Are you going to cum so fast, daddy?” 

         Shingen tugs on your hair sharply, something you are not expecting, and he smirks coyly. “I want to hear you say it, my angel.” He brushes his thumb over your cheek, encouraging you. Really, you expected him to call you something degrading – slut, whore – but he did not. Instead, he gives you big eyes filled with wonder and a smile that makes your heart melt. 

         This is not what you thought would happen when you signed a contract to do a scene with him. Still though, who are you to complain?

         “Give me your seed,” you mewl as you wrap all ten fingers around his cock. It’s an awkward phrase to say, but you flick your tongue out to brush over his slit to distract him from the words. Shingen throws his head back and moans. The sound is loud and round, echoing throughout the entire set. If you had been wearing panties, they would have dropped to the ground upon hearing it. 

         “Babygirl, keep going, don’t stop…” 

         Someone makes a motion towards you to speed things up. Shifting your weight around, you spread your legs and tuck a hand between your folds. You finger yourself in harmony with the languid strokes you deliver his hard cock. It is not long before your digits are soaked with your essence. Although you want to keep going, you know that the scene has yet to properly start, so you wipe your hand clean on Shingen’s waist. 

         He chuckles at this, and it makes his chest rumble. “Saving yourself for later?” 

         You nod and deep throat him suddenly. It catches Shingen by surprise, and he arches over you for a moment before he remembers his place – he isn’t allowed to get in the way of the cameras, so he leans back and tenses his muscles. 

         “Daddy, your cock is so big that I have to. You’re going to stretch me so much–” You aren’t sure about this, but you know that it’s a line that a lot of people get off to. But you don’t linger on it, and continue to suck on him. Your tongue whirls around his length, and you pull your best moves to make him cum as quickly as possible. 

         Shingen continues to watch you with wide eyes. You mesmerize him, really – the way he can see his member protruding in your mouth makes him giddy. He won’t admit it, but he is very turned on by the act you are putting on. He has to hold back the urge to buck upwards into your mouth, as he can feel his tip rubbing the back of your throat anyways. Anymore, and surely you would choke on him. Shingen would love to see cum dribbling down your lips, but he does not want to do it at your expense. 

         He does, however, grip your hair tighter. Shingen follows your motions, guiding you down slightly. Every time your teeth graze over the protruding nerves, Shingen moans. You try to smile slightly, but it results in a painfully loud squelching sound. 

         Someone groans offset, so you glance beyond the set from the corner of your eye for a split second before returning your gaze to Shingen. You want to pull off and make that irresistible pop sound, but Shingen clamps his large hand down on the back of your neck. He’s rough now, and you cannot move. You know this sensation all too well – it is the tell tale sign that Shingen is about to cum.

         You prepare yourself for him to burst, but he does not right away. He holds on, groaning and biting his lip. His free hand disappears from your neck, and he rakes his fingers through his hair. It must be a glorious sight – you’ve seen him do it in recordings. However, having the honor to see Shingen’s hair slicked back with sweat is truly a sight to behold. 

         Humming against him, you manage to make that beautiful sound when you pull off. You give Shingen a few lazy kisses to the side of his length before pumping him once more. “Oh my darling,” you say with an exaggerated accent, “my darling, how I love to fuck you.” Arching your back once more, you smile and tip your head to the side. “And how I would love to be fucked by you. So cum, please.” 

         When you stick your tongue out, you apply the right amount of pressure to the base of his cock, which finally coaxes him to cum – onto your face. You close your eyes at the right time, as some lands on your brow bone. He moans and releases your hair before cupping your face with one hand. 

         “That’s wonderful, my angel. Such a good girl!” 

         You aren’t used to this soft type of dirty talk, but you quite enjoy it. He strokes your cheek with a loving touch, and, for a split second, you forget that you’re recording a scene. For that moment, all you can see is Shingen, the way he glows in the post-climax bliss and how his eyes fill with joy. 

         Your minute of fantasizing is short lived as Shingen grasps your shoulders to pull you upright. He is strong, and it takes him little effort to hoist you from the ground and onto the bed. Shingen leans back and lets you crawl over him. When you lean down to grind against him, Shingen’s lips graze your ear. “Don’t force it. Let it come naturally. Yeah?” 

         His voice was gentle before, but now it’s… genuine. He wants you to feel comfortable with what you are doing. You appreciate it, but you do not anticipate what happens next: Shingen flips you over with incredible speed. He takes on the dominant role, just as you are used to. 

         “You ready, babygirl?” 

         “Fuck me, daddy,” you growl back, flicking your tongue out to lap at the white that hangs from the corner of your lips. It’s strangely sweet, after the powerful salty taste. You can’t complain as sometimes it tastes closer to battery acid, but Shingen lusts over you as you lick your lips. It is pretty obvious that he is getting hard again. 

         Shingen reaches for the bottle of lube on the nightstand and lathers it onto his palm. You know that this intermedial moment will be cut from the scene, so you roll over onto the mattress and spread your legs. He exhales slowly, and his eyes narrow as he cups his hand over your cunt. The gel is cold and fragranced, and Shingen pulls your folds apart to spread it across you. 

         There is little time for formalities – Shingen lounges next to you and pulls your leg over his thighs as to expose you further. One of the cameras pans around directly in front of you. Only now do you realize it has a squirt guard – a piece of transparent plastic that protects the lense from any release. 

         Oh, you realize, he’s going to make me squirt. 

         As the thought comes to mind, Shingen slaps your pussy and nips your shoulder. A moan tickles the back of your throat, and you roll your hips against him. He is quick to place a firm hand on your hip and push you back against the bed. “Behave, my love. You will cum in due time.” 

         With that, he inserts two fingers into you. The lube helps him ease one knuckle in at a time until his palm is flush against your clit. Your muscles tighten around him, and you try to squirm. It is not an act for once. In fact, you feel amazingly full with just his fingers scissoring inside of you. They work you apart slowly, making wet sounds fill the room. Shingen takes your nipple into his mouth and sucks hard on it, using his teeth occasionally to make you moan. 

         You manage to arch your back to his touch, and he leans back to chuckle. Shingen buries his nose into the crook of your neck to suck on your jaw. He is intent on leaving a hickey there, and you are not complaining. But when you let your tongue fall out of your mouth and whine, Shingen pulls back and tips his head to the side. 

         “Do you want to say something, babygirl?” He had been fingering you intently, but the pace reduces. The knot that had built up in your stomach slowly fades, and you kick your legs like a brat. 

         “No!” 

         “No?” 

         “Don’t stop,” you plead. It’s the truth; you don’t want him to stop because he was just about to rub your g-spot. He might be referred to as Tiger of the Bedroom, but Shingen is known for making women squirt within minutes of finding their weak spots. “Please~” you mewl as lewdly as possible. “Don’t ever stop fucking me!”

         Shingen exhales, his chest rattling as he does, and he grips your neck with his free hand. His digits slip back inside of you, but this time, he rubs his thumb against your clit. Your folds glisten with slick, but your essence keeps dribbling from your hole as he finger fucks you mercilessly. Some of it runs down your thighs and stains the bedding, but that is someone else’s problem. From this position, you know that, to your dismay, he won’t eat you out. However, the fact that he edges you masterfully almost makes up for it. 

         He brings you to the brink of cumming quickly, but keeps you suspended there for what feels like ages. Each time you bring your hips up to meet his thrusts, you feel yourself about to cum. However, at the same instance, he slows down like the handsome devil he is. Again, Shingen takes your pert bud between his teeth and rolls his tongue over it. The sensation is enough for you to chase your climax. As your muscles clench down on his fingers, Shingen finally strokes your g-spot, caressing the buildup in your abdomen. 

         As you orgasm, your legs tremble. Shingen takes this as a sign to remove his fingers from you momentarily. After being edged, the climax has built up and practically explodes out of you. You release hard, making Shingen smile. It comes out in waves, so he slaps your sopping folds to coax more squirt. You lift your head for a split second, and your gaze lands on the camera. 

         Thank goodness for the splash guard. 

         Shingen gives you little time to recover and pulls you onto his lap. Your back is flush against his muscular chest, and his cock rubs against your folds. He’s so warm, and it envelops you. You want him inside of you, scene or not. No one had been able to make you squirt like that, and you are still in a daze from the pleasure he gifted you. 

         He hears your soft babbles and inserts himself into you slowly. And you thought that he stretched you out when he fingered you. 

         Shingen is kind and gives you a moment to adjust to him. Then the bouncing and the hip rolling and the dirty talk that echoes in your ears begins. He’s telling you how amazing you feel around him and how beautiful you look when you tip your head back at him. At one point, he repositions himself slightly so that he hits deep inside of you. The two of you have not been going long before you find yourself moaning and begging for more. 

         “Fill me with your seed!” you whine. “Flood me with your seed… Explode in me!” You are struggling for words because he is hitting all the spots that make you go weak. And you know that Shingen is enjoying seeing you like this – that pompous smirk has been plastered across his beautiful features for the past ten minutes. He very well knows that your mind is fried and that you cannot think of anything proper to say, but still, Shingen dips his head low and growls, “Tell me more, babygirl.” 

         He’s enjoying this too much. 

         “Your cock drives me wild, Daddy! I’m out of control but don’t stop.” 

         You aren’t in any position to hold back anymore, so when Shingen kisses your neck, his way of asking you to say more, you let all the dirty talk tumble from your bruised lips. “It feels so good to have you inside of me.” 

         “Does it?” His fingers dig into the supple skin of your hips, and he pushes you down on his cock until you feel his scrotum slapping against you. His lips graze over your jaw, and even though he’s done this so many times, you still shiver at his touch. Shingen smells like sweat and cum – it isn’t the most attractive scent in the world, but it makes you wet just thinking about how much of a mess the two of you are making. 

         “Do you like it when I do this?” He reaches around your torso and clasps your swollen clit between two digits. There is no mercy when it comes to Shingen Takeda. His cock slides in and out of you easily, making incredible squelching sounds with ever slick motion. You swallow hard and look down only to realize that you can very well see his member protruding in your abdomen. 

         “Yes!! I love it!” 

         “Good girl…” Shingen follows your gaze down and licks his lips. “I think I can see why–” His hand trails up your abdomen slowly and he applies pressure against your body. More so that before, you can feel him rubbing against your insides. 

         I’ve never known such pleasure, such ecstasy, you think to yourself. You would be far too embarrassed to say it aloud. Shingen lives to be praised and worshiped, so you know you would be feeding into his game if you did. He is especially partial to exaggerated language, so you know he would love it if you said that.

         Shingen watches your eyes roll back into your head, but he brings you back by kissing you deeply. You taste the passion and the love in the kiss. When you pull back, you drop one hand to your clit and resume the job he had been doing earlier. Even though you bounce on his cock, you look deep into his eyes and realize: ah, yes, it is love. He’s not fucking me, he’s making love to me. 

         And it just slips out. Your lips brush against his sharp jaw, and you mumble “I’m lost in your love.” 

         His grip fails momentarily before he composes himself and smiles. “Yeah?” 

         But you don’t give him the romantic dirty talk that he is looking for; instead, you roll your hips back and moan loudly, “Every thrust of your cock… you take me higher and hig-” Shingen knows your act, so he covers your mouth with a hand. 

         The knot in your stomach is nearly ready to explode. You wonder how much longer before–

         Oh. 

         You stand up the best you can and let your release flow freely. It soaks the mattress again and his cock, but he pushes your hips back down. He’s fucking you senseless now, and every time he goes flush against you, you let out a powerful moan. 

         “I’m going to cum–” he growls roughly, biting on your ear. 

         Clenching your muscles as tightly as you can, you pray it is enough to make him follow through on his promise. You throw your hand behind his head and rake your fingers through his hair to pull his head down. He groans at this and bites your shoulder in response. 

         “I went for you–” But you cover your mouth quickly and realize that is not proper English anymore. It is hard to think straight with him thrusting into you with so much vigor. 

         You try again. “Daddy~” 

         “You’re so wonderful, fuck–” he praises with a half-groan. “You’re the best, babygirl. No one else can compare.”  

         You feel his warmth inside of you for a split second before he pulls out and paints your abdomen with white. It slips down your sweaty skin, so you catch some of it between your fingers and rub it against your folds. Tipping your hips forward, you expose yourself for the creampie shot. It dribbles down your thigh, making you shiver slightly. 

         Shingen pants heavily and helps you stand up, but you aren’t done now. You sit back down on him and grind hard against him. “Give me more, more, more.” You grip your breasts and put on the best show you ever have. Shingen gets the message and grips your ass with one hand and tucks the other around your waist with the other. “Don’t stop until I have every drop of your seed.” Turning your head back to him, you smirk and say the next phrase for him and him alone: “Every drop of your love.”

         Really, you want this thrill, this ecstasy, go on and on and on forever, but you remember that everyone has an expiration moment. Shingen’s is close– 

         He cums inside of you again, but this time, you don’t let him pull out until you feel his muscles relax. When he does remove himself, you fall back on the mattress and bathe in the post-sex euphoria. You catch your breath and sit up only to receive a quick kiss from Shingen. 

         The scene is over and someone calls time before the crew starts clapping. Flustered by this attention, you blush and stand up to get your robe. Pulling it over your body, you pad over to the director to make sure that everything looked good. 

         You can feel Shingen’s eyes on you from across the room, but you pay little attention to it. Even when the director comments about the amazing chemistry you have with him, you brush it off saying that the both of you were just playing the part. 

         Shingen collects his things to leave when you are still talking with the director, so you excuse yourself and run after him. 

         “I have to ask,” you start, reaching for Shingen’s shoulder, “You… taste sweet. Just the slightest bit. Why?” 

         When Shingen smirks, you feel your face flushing. “I make sure to eat a lot of fruits. You know, it makes it easier to swallow. The least I can do to make the whole thing more enjoyable.” His smirk softens into a bright and friendly grin. “I’ll be seeing you around then.” Shingen turns around all the way and waves over his shoulder. “Maybe we’ll do something again soon!” 

         You feel your knees going weak, but you force yourself to keep your composure – and for good reason too, because Shingen peeks over his shoulder. His charcoal eyes narrow and look you over once before he looks straight and walks towards the door. 

         Once he is out of sight, you exhale slowly. 

         Damn you, Tiger of the Bedroom.

.

.

.

.

.

if you recognized the quotes its because they are from a jesus sex cult!!!!! rachel and lyric challenged me to write a smut with the quotes. I didnt know they were from the jesus sex cult at first but i thought, hell, ill make this a hella good smut and then pull a fast one on ya. Ofc, i removed the “jesus” and i forced a couple of lines to make them fit the smut/made some of them not quotes/changed a bit of the grammar bc they were wrong and it bothered me. I couldnt use 2 lines because they were a bit too much xD and then there was 1 line that was nearly the exact same as another so i didnt use it. but i think i did pretty damn well thank u v much  <3

[zombriekid]

From the Shoreline [Haruka Nanase/Gender Neutral Reader]

Series: Free! 

Summary: request- “...can you write a beach scene w him (Haru) swimming w a reader insert? you dont have to make it romantic if you dont feel comfortable doing so” a day at the beach brings to light foreign emotions 

  You’ve always been content to watch from the shoreline, to bask in the peace that the hissing froth affords you as the silk of the cool waves lapses at your knees, and the fine granules of sand slip in between your toes. It’s there, where the land claws at the sea that you find your bedrock; able to enjoy the reaches of the ocean but you’re still fixed on a stable foundation of shell and stone. Sure you’ll find particles scratching at sensitive skin later in your rash guard, that’s a given when you’re sitting in perpetually shifting sand, however this way you’re never fully committing yourself to the depths.  

  Unlike Iwatobi’s residential Human Dolphin Haruka Nanase, who breaches the water’s glittery barrier with a flourish of his dark hair. In the past you’ve jokingly called him a “hydro-phile”, mostly because, be it a toddler’s inflatable kiddie pool or the expansive lanes meant for Olympic swimmers in training, if there’s a body of water caught in his crosshairs then the dude is already diving in before his pants are even off. You know better now, though.  

  It’s not so much that he has a rather odd (see: questionable) obsession with water; in actuality it’s the only way he can freely express himself, convey his thoughts and feelings properly to anyone willing to listen because there are no expectations when you’re swimming. Well, besides keeping yourself afloat at least. Admittedly it took you some time to understand this quirk of his- between Haru’s introverted nature and your inability to read people there were a few years of awkward, fumbling communication between you two that found resolution in sunshine incarnate Makoto.   

  Now you fancy yourself close enough to Haru that you don’t need many words to discern his intentions.  

  ...at least you did before the skin on the back of your neck starts to bristle and tingle, before the pit of your stomach flutters instinctually with the sudden attention set upon you, and nine years worth of friendship and experience quickly clues you in on the source. And sure enough, a brief glance up from your feet and out towards the ocean you notice him peeking at you over the surface with everything from his chin down totally submerged; there’s a glint in the intense blue of his eyes, and his long lashes sit heavy as if he’s lost in thought, like he’s staring absentmindedly at something, but he’s not because he’s focused entirely on you.  

  You don’t know this look.  

  It’s completely new on him. New for him? Or maybe it’s not. It’s just never have you been at the receiving end of it… and it’s twisting your heart into fluttery somersaults within the cage of your chest.  

  Before your mind can run wild, where the questions of “what if” and “could be” are already turning the gears of your over-active imagination, you disrupt the stare down with a hitch in your throat. “What’s up, Haru?” 

  Just like that the fog lifts from his pupils, and though they don’t stray from you they appear to be brighter now, like he’s just realized that you’re physically here. Now you can read the message in his expression. He gives you a quick once over that begins on the shoreline and ends on your face: in other words, “what are you doing?”    

  “I’m not much of a swimmer, remember?”  

  Which is not some feeble attempt to appear modest on your end, you understand enough to keep your head above the waterline and maybe splash a doggy paddle or two, but swimming? Authentic, genuine, complete a specified number of laps within an allotted time period swimming? That was all Haru’s territory- has been since the pool lessons from your kinder years, and even back then you knew that he was leagues ahead. Always will be.

  Never stopping, never looking back; the water doesn’t judge and it doesn’t expecting anything from him.

  It’s freedom. It’s his freedom, and you totally get it now.

  Good thing you’ve always been content to watch from the shoreline.

_______________________________________________________________________

  The expression is back, the brand new one that pours an invisible film over his eyes until the color dulls but sharpens the cognizance, and just like before he’s imposing all of that concentration on to you now. It’s unclear if this... look is intentional or not but either you’re inhaling a sort of icy warmth deep into your lungs as the hairs on your arm rise.

  Chapped lips peel apart yet no sound follows, a problem that stems from the fact that the tip of your tongue is sticking to the back of your incisors, and be it luckily or unluckily you don’t have to keep trying to decode the mystery that is Haruka Nanase because you notice the single but firm nod he gives. Moments after both of his hands begin to gently slice through the saltwater in large, swooping arcs, feet kicking and paddling behind him as his eyes actually seem to catch yours this time.

  And the message is... something? The meaning’s lost to you, though there’s no denying that it is there; still you can’t figure it out by the time he reaches the shore.

  Without a single word, and in the throes of a fierce, cerulean-tinted stare, he offers you a hand with the palm facing towards the sky- and this you absolutely can understand. “Thanks, Haru. But you won’t be able to actually swim if I join,” your left shoulder lifts in a shrug, “was always more of a spectator, ya know?”

  Spectating from the bleachers, spectating from the poolside, from the squeaky plastic of a floaty and the steps in the shallow end and the white foam melting into the sand of the shoreline.

  “I don’t mind.”

  And that statement- those three little words... they change everything.

  Because Haruka Nanase isn’t swimming right now, won’t be if you accept his offer, and he’s aware of that. He’s okay with that, that fact doesn’t bother him. He’s purposefully slowing his pace... so you can catch up.

  Goddammit you’re gonna miss the crap outta this dude.

  The sharp heat of tears stings in the flesh of your eyes but you’re quick to blink them away before you brandish a crooked, toothy grine: “don’t be upset when you gotta save my ass from drowning!”

  He smiles in return and there’s a kind of amusement found in the corners of his mouth- not that you’re focused on that, of course. And it’s not the first time that you’ve seen him like this, it���s just the first where you, and only you, are the cause. Makes you feel... warm. Fuzzy.

  Your fingers curl around his open palm until your grip is firm, and using the entirety of his body weight as an anchor you hoist yourself up on to your feet and follow him into the depths of the ocean. Away from the shoreline.

_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

  Later, when the horizon sits low on the horizon and the saltwater makes your lips itch, Haru asks you to make him a promise.

  “While I’m in Australia, and you’re starting your first semester at college... will you still talk to m- to us?”

  You don’t acknowledge that near slip of the tongue, and you completely ignore the fluttering in your stomach because of it, so instead with a squeeze of your hand over his, you say: “of course! You’re stuck with me for life, dude.” Platonically, that’s how you mean it. Right? Right.

Not right, not when his fingers squeezes yours back.

“Promise?” 

Swallow the lump in your throat; give him a big ol’ grin.

“Promise.”

a/u: i picture haru as the kind of person that doesn’t really build up an attraction to someone, it just kinda happens and it confuses him but he’s not afraid of it. homie has a hard time expressing himself though so he wouldn’t be the first to act on it, just drop hints here and there in his own unique way. hope y’all enjoy this piece, a bit light hearted than what i usually tackle, ne? hit a like, drop a comment, reblog this ish so that other cool cats can see it! and to the anon who requested this i’m so friggin sorry that it took me this long to fulfill it but still i hope you like it -3- 

[coconut-cluster]

OOH CAN YOU PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE MAKE HEADCANONS FOR THE TRY GUY!SIDES READ THEIR FANFICTION VIDEO💕

awww HECK YEAH (anon you know how to get into my heart. ask me for headcanons and we’re best friends automatically. sorry i dont make the rules)

SO

It was Roman’s idea. It was Roman’s awful, amazing, doomed-from-the-start and oh-so-highly anticipated idea.

And, surprisingly enough… all three of the others were on board with it?

Logan was mainly interested in the variations of creative writing, sure, but Patton was genuinely excited for it, and even Virgil seemed to chuckle at the concept before nodding concession (which was all Roman needed to tweet their need for good fanfic links)

(And fanfic links they got)

They expected some explicit stuff, obviously, because it’s fanfiction for cryin out loud, but they were pleasantly surprised by the number of harmless tropes that seemed to appear in a lot of suggested fics they received - snowball fights and coffee shop AU’s were particularly popular

What they definitely didn’t expect, however (or at least, Roman and Virgil were blissfully unaware of), was the ships.

Patton was a bit clueless as to what the _____/_____ tags meant at first - Logan did his best to analyze them, but it was pretty difficult with Roman and Virgil cackling beside him - and it took until they clicked on a Patton/Logan fic that they understood

Patton, of course, was not upset at it all - he thought it was sweet that people could see love anywhere, and he, along with Logan, was particularly pleased at the number of fics that ‘shipped’ him with his husband (which seemed to have doubled after the House Hunting video)

Overwhelmingly, though, were the number of Prinxiety fics. (They’re not called prinxiety in the Try Guys universe, probably, but you get my point ;))

Now PICTURE THIS:

The boys have set up their camera and are filming their search for the fics they’ll read in the video; Roman and Virgil have already made fun of Lo and Pat for their fanfic cluelessness, and they’ve chosen a Lo/Pat fic, a cute one about their fantasy honeymoon, when Roman stops dead in his tracks.His silence, uncharacteristic as it is, is quickly noticed - Virgil looks up from his phone and laughs, “What’s wrong, Princey? See somethin’ you don’t like?”Roman opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again, and slowly shakes his head as he starts to scroll down, but Virgil just leans over and grabs his phone - Roman tries to protest, but V already has it and is scrolling back up as Patton and Logan laugh;“The internet is a dark place, Ro,” he sighs dramatically, still scrolling, because nothing seems out of the ordinary yet, “and I think, as internet celebrities, which we totally are, by the way, it’s important to-” He stops and stares at the phone screen. “Oh.”“What?” Patton asks, craning to look over his shoulder, “what is it? What happened? Did it glitch? Should I stop the camera?”Virgil, clearly ignoring Roman (who is still making frantic grabby hands at his phone), clears his throat and shrugs, “It’s just another ship. It’s not out of the ordinary or anything-”“Of course,” Roman agrees quickly (still yet to have his phone returned), “there’s a ton of ships on the website, so let’s just keep going and pick the next fic-”“You and Virgil, I presume?” Logan says without looking up from his phone; Roman goes cherry-red. Patton’s eyes light up, and before Virgil or Roman can protest, he gasps and shouts, “We gotta read that one! Me and Logan already have one together, so you guys should too!”“…you’re married.”“Exactly!”“…Fine! Cool, no that’s absolutely fine, let’s get some variety in here,” Roman rambles, tugging his phone from Virgil’s grip. “Sure, yeah, me and Virgil. Variety. That’s fun. Let’s do it. Totally.”Virgil’s face goes from confused to almost… offended? “You sound enthused.”“Well of course I am, Little Miss Sunshine-”“Oh, you’re so right, my bad, Sir Sing-a-Lot, you do sound utterly ecstatic.”“And why wouldn’t I be?”“I have no idea, I’m a delight.”“You-”Logan cuts in. “Put it on the list and let’s move on.”

By the time filming rolls around, they’re back to being super excited for the video - they’ve gotten props, a few settings planned, even some simple costumes!!!

They film the Logan/Patton fic first - it’s an adorable one-shot, detailing a sweet trip to a wintry cabin that seems to contain endless hot chocolate (not that either of them are complaining)

(This is the exact time they all find out Logan is a surprisingly good actor.)

((Though adoring Patton took little acting on his part. But OTHER than that, it was an impressive sight))

They threw in a chapter of a secret spy AU fic, wherein Roman took far too much delight in pretending to blow things up, and Virgil offered to be a mission martyr despite it being nowhere in the fic itself - he did get to throw himself down a small flight of stairs though, so it was a win-win for everyone except Patton, who spent the entire scene with a pack of bandaids in his hands

AND THEN.

Logan introduces the last fic of the video: a coffee shop AU, in which Roman plays a quirky and admittedly confused barista as Virgil is the regular who spends more time flirting than he does drinking the coffee

(Roman and Virgil both regret not searching their tag for something else, literally anything else)

The thing is, as Roman soon finds, Virgil is… very good at it.

He’s not quite sure what “it” is, really - acting or flirting - but either way, V seems to do it naturally, and judging by the heat crawling up his face, Roman imagines he’s playing his part pretty well, too

(Ten minutes into filming the opening scene, Virgil is still going. 

Like. 

He has yet to actually touch the fake coffee Roman handed him five lines ago, and is instead continuing with the whole flirting-act, most of which Roman does not remember seeing in the fic when they ran through it earlier. 

“Virge,” he finally whispers, “you gotta actually say your next line.”

“My what?”

“…your line. In the script. About coming back tomorrow.”

“Oh.” Virgil glances down at the cup by his hand and seems to reboot. “Oh, right.”)

(The rest of the filming goes smoothly after that - until the last scene.) 

Ro and Virge are standing outside the cafe they used as a set, waiting for Patton or Logan to give them the next line, when Patton shouts, “Now kiss!”

Virgil blinks at him. “Pat, we only have twenty more minutes before the cafe closes; we need the next line-”

“That is the line!” Logan leans over his husband’s shoulder, eyes skimming the script, and nods as he turns back to the camera. Patton tilts his head at the pair. “Didn’t you guys read it earlier?”

“…not really. How long is the video going to be? Maybe we should just cut this scene out,” Virgil says, glancing between Patton and Roman, “or film it tomorrow with better lighting, since it’s getting dark. Besides, I think we’re all pretty tired and we have a lot of editing to d-”

He’s cut off by Roman grabbing his face and bringing their lips together.

(And judging by the way Virgil leans immediately into the embrace, which lasts far past Logan’s cue for the camera’s shutdown, he is either a very, very good actor or a very, very bad liar.)

okay i don’t really wanna end there, but it’s midnight and i can’t keep my eyes open anymore so I HOPE THIS IS OKAY ANON

[intothedanvers-e]

Young, Dumb, & Broke

Word Count: 1.3k

Pairing: Tom Holland x Reader

Summary: You just graduated high school and were ready to embark on your last summer of being a dumb teen and going on adventures before having to face the realities of the adult world. One day you were driving to a lake to meet some of your friends when your car broke down in the middle of nowhere. With no service and no gas stations around you wandered a little down the street and found one house where you went to ask for help. You expected to find an old couple living in the middle of nowhere, but a nice young British guy (Tom) answered the door. Due to unforeseen circumstances you spend the rest of the afternoon and most of the night together, but when it’s time to leave he says he wants to see you again. You exchange numbers with the cute British guy and embark on a long, secretive summer fling. You both lie about what you do for a living and what you were both doing in the middle of nowhere, but the moments you too bonded were all genuine. Will he find out about your plans after summer? Will you find out what he actually does for a living? Will this fling extend past summer?

Authors Note: i know this chapter is a little short but i wanted to keep what happens in this chapter as its own isolated event! thank you for reading this series i hope you all love it as much as i do and continue to love it!! the taglist for this is always open so dont hesitate in letting me know if youd like to be part of it!! also once again any feedback is welcomed! ily <3

Here’s my masterlist!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5

Chapter 6

“Do you know what that one is?”

“Tom I told you I just like coming here, I’m not a fish expert.”

He laughed as he opened up his pamphlet again.

“Okay there are about 16 different blue tinted fish in this thing how do I know which one is that little guy?”

“Tom! I didn’t bring you in here to learn all the fish,” you said smiling.

“Okay why are we here?”

“Are you saying you don’t like aquariums?” “I do!”

“Okay come with me,” you said grabbing his hand and pulling him behind you.

Your fingers intertwined naturally. You walked into a room that was almost surface to surface glass, it was like standing right in the middle of the tank full of fish.

“Wow, this is…amazing,” he said approaching one of the glass walls.

“I wish I could sleep in here. It’s so relaxing just being a pair of eyes in here. I’m not quite sure if the fish are aware we’re watching them you know? But regardless of that they go on about their days, doing whatever they do. It’s almost like you’re in-between existing and not existing. You get to see it all, without having to take part in it.”

Your eyes were glued to the fish tank; Tom’s eyes were glued to your face.

“Is that why you brought me here?” he said taking a few steps closer to you.

You turned to look at him and smile, heat rising to your face. You were lost in each others eyes before you cleared your throat.

“Well also who doesn’t love penguins?”

“There are penguins?!”

“Yes c’mon!” you said pulling him behind you again, your fingers interlaced with his once more.

An hour later you two were sitting on a bench outside the aquarium, eating penguin shaped popsicles. Tom was next to you, scrolling through the numerous pictures the both of you had been taking all day. While scrolling you caught a quick glance of one he took of you while you were watching the otters with a huge smile on your face.

“Hey when’d you take that?!” you said trying to take the phone from his hands.

He pulled it into his chest before you could grab it.

“Don’t worry about it!”

“I didn’t approve of that picture though! I hate how I look in it!”

“The whole point of a candid is that it’s taken when you least expect it darling.”

You rolled your eyes and stuck your hand out toward him.

“Just don’t delete it okay?”

“Fine!”

He handed you the phone and you saw the picture. It was actually decent and made you smile, but you hated being in front of the camera.

“Ugh just don’t post it anywhere okay?” you said handing him back his phone.

“That picture is just for me,” he said absentmindedly whilst staring at his phone screen.

You smiled and decided not to ruin the moment.

“Hey at what time is sunset?”

“In like 30 minutes, why?” you said finishing off your popsicle. You’d chosen a blue one and your lips were now tinted blue, Tom’s were tinted red.

“What’s your favorite place to watch the sunset?”

“I have a few.”

“Which is the closest?”

You sat and thought about it for a minute. You smiled and signaled for him to follow you back to the car. A few minutes later you were at a little hidden scenic overlook just off the highway. There was enough space to park your car safely. You grabbed a blanket from your backseat and placed it on the hood of your car.

“Are you kidding? I thought that only happened in American films!” he said looking at you excitedly as you climbed to sit on the hood of your car.

“All real baby. Well at least on a car as old as mine, I don’t think we can dent this only metal by just sitting on it. C’mon,” you said patting the spot next to you.

He climbed up onto the hood of the car, plopping down closer to you than you expected. He looked out at the view, a huge grin on his face. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him.

“Hey can I ask you something?” he said turning to look at you. You turned to face away from him at just the last second so that you wouldn’t seem creepy. You nodded your head.

“You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to but uh, are you running from something or to something?”

You sat and thought about it for a second. You never seemed to ask yourself that question, in your mind for as long as you could remember this was the only plan you had and you were sticking to it. You never doubted or questioned it, ever.

“A bit of both I guess?” you said shrugging.

He nodded and gave you a small smile before turning to face the sunset again.

“Not in the creepy ‘I’m trying to hide something way’ though! I just never really fit in here. I was always on the outside looking in. For people in this area its graduate high school, marry your high school sweetheart, have a few kids, work a 9 to 5 for the rest of your life until your kids are old enough to repeat the cycle. I get it and it makes sense, but I hate it. For as long as I can remember, this place wasn’t the end all be all for me. When I read books as a kid I used to wish a magical dragon would come and whisk me away to an ethereal land, or that one day a letter would be delivered to me by owl so that I could go somewhere that wasn’t here. My dreams were always bigger than this town, and the people here don’t like it. I used to be told I had to be more realistic and that I had to plant my feet on the ground instead of daydreaming. Kids would make fun of me because every other week I wanted to be something else; an astronaut, a Broadway singer, a goddamn princess at Disneyland. People from around here stay here, and I’ve never wanted that for myself you know? I need room to float and fly and have my head in the clouds if I so please.”

The sun was on its last minutes before it dipped beyond the horizon and left you to a starry night sky. The lingering clouds were pink, and the sky was set ablaze with colors like orange and purple.

“You always had wings and the people here tried to snip them,” he said staring at the beautiful sight in front of him.

“Instead of letting them pull them off my back, I just learned how to hide them.”

“Aren’t you ever scared that you’ve had them hidden for so long that once you get the chance to fly, you’ll just fall on your face?”

“Everyday. But I’d rather be the bird who flies and falls, than the bird who died in the cage.”

The sun dipped beyond the horizon, leaving you in the few minutes between sunset and night where the sky was a dark blue and winds started getting cooler.

“It doesn’t count for much considering how long we’ve known each other, but if you fall I’ll be there to help you back up,” he said staring at you.

You stared at his face for a second wanting nothing more than to grab his face and kiss him. You held yourself back, scared by the possibility of rejection. “Thank you. Means a lot more than you’d expect to a girl who’s had to dust herself off alone her whole life.”

You adjusted yourself on the blanket when suddenly his hand was on your cheek, his warm lips pressed up against yours. You could feel the cold breeze, but the warmth radiating from the both of you was enough.

Tag list: @hollandlovely @greenarrowhead @justanotherfangirl2015 @oh-dear-tommy @marvelnerdxinfinity @lafayettes-baguettes-1 @hollandhugs @tiredofallthetroubles @marvel-ing-at-it-all @built4broadway @lostandafraiddepressedgirl @isisqueenoffandoms @for-my-mind @hbmoore1986 @dafnouche @justapotatonow @bellagrayson-wayne @marvelousspidey @chemiste @maryylea @serpent-tea

[showingthroughtome]

Lemon Meringue

a story about pastries, panini’s, pasta, pie, and the boy who knew how to cook them.

a oneshot i wrote for allison for last years summer fic exchange that i dont have on my tumblr 

read below

Cooking was hard. So. Damn. Hard. A complex art only few could master.

Or at least that’s how Pearl saw it. At the age of 26, the only “meals” she could successfully make were a bowl of cereal, a warmed up pop tart, or a mixed salad with a generous amount of ranch dressing. Nearly every dish she tried to make that needed a fire to cook ended up charred black. She didn’t really mind it though. The General Tso’s chicken from Double Dragon was magnificent, and they delivered, eliminating the need to leave her one bedroom apartment and face the shame of entering the same establishment 3-6 nights a week.

Plus, being able to cook sounded scary - being able to function like a real-life grown-up sounded boring. And Pearl prided herself on not being boring. Sure she was nearing thirty and lived alone with her two puppies, but she also had a kick ass job, a job that left her with stories to tell at every party and jokes to make with every new encounter.

Five days a week, Pearl had the luxury of working at a flower shop. Maybe to some that didn’t seem like the most exciting thing in the world, but the particular flower shop she was head florist at was in the heart of London. Every kind of person imaginable walked through those doors requesting an arrangement to be made - ex lovers, adulterous husbands, secret admires, widows, widowers, proud parents, even the occasional love sick spouse. She saw them all, and knew all their little anecdotes.

Still, she had to admit that even though she could pair the perfect group of flowers to make a beautiful bouquet, she could never cook an egg just right - she’d either cook it too long and burn it to a crisp, or pull it off the heat too early and have it runnier than anyone would like. It was her biggest weakness - not being able to cook for herself.

And her family didn’t let her forget it. At every family gathering, when it was time to make their dinner, nearly everyone joined in at poking fun - her parents, her brothers and sisters, her aunts and uncles. All of a sudden, the family jokes centered on Pearl and her inadequacy.

“Oh no! Keep Pearl away from the stove! She might accidentally turn the burners on and get everything extra crispy.” They’d mock.

“Don’t let Pearl handle the ladle. I don’t know how, but I’m sure she’d ruin the entire meal.” They’d laugh.

It didn’t bother her much, not after it started happening at every holiday since she first attempted to make a meal. It was old news to her. No surprise rushed through her at the joking.

But what did shock Pearl was the gift her twin sister gave her that year for her birthday. Instead of the simple Complete Collection of Films starring Julia Roberts she so nicely requested, she got a plain envelope containing a slip of paper, on it held the details for a four session cooking class. At first glance, Pearl laughed and tried pushing the paper back into her sister’s hand. Her sister wasn’t having that, standing up and moving away, staring her down with a playful smirk. Pearl could just tell by the look in her eyes that it wasn’t a joke, that maybe her sister had expected her to “grow up” a little. Somehow, Pearl just knew she’d be going.

Every phone call they had for the three weeks leading up to the beginning of the Saturday cooking classes, Pearl tried to get her sister to say it was okay if she didn’t go. Her pleading only lead to a stronger case for the opposing argument.

That’s why, in the middle of July, Pearl was clutching a coffee in one hand and a rumpled envelope in another, pacing outside of a bakery. She didn’t think she needed the classes. She didn’t think she needed to put on an apron and learn how to make pasta or casseroles or bread. The only reason she was there was because her sister had paid for them, they were non-refundable, and maybe if she learned how to make a pie she wouldn’t have to spend so much money at restaurants for dessert.

—

It made sense that she was the last one to walk in. Why wouldn’t she be? She was the one who took time contemplating if she should even enter the building, looking in the glass door to see the people gathering, making her seven minutes late.

“Oh, hello!” A man with brown curly hair and wearing a red apron greeted as Pearl finally opened the door and a bell chimed. “Are you here for the class?”

“Ummm,” Pearl knew there was no going back after her answer. If she said yes, the next two hours of her life would be consumed by measurements and chopping and simmering and listening to some teacher tell her how to combine all of that to make a dish. But she didn’t know how to explain away her presence so she nodded, “Yeah.”

“Sick!” The man exclaimed. “Just find an empty counter and we’ll start.”

Pearl took note of the fellow students - three older ladies, probably in their late thirties/early forties, and two men, both well over fifty. Even in this company, they left one of the two front counters empty, leaving Pearl with no option other than to sit directly in front of the instructor and beside one of the ladies.

“Sorry I’m late.” She apologised to everyone while sliding onto the stool.

“No worries. I just finished in the back myself. I had a run in with a pesky soufflé that just wouldn’t go right.” The man, the instructor it seemed, patted down his apron and took a place at the front counter, the one facing the others.

From her spot, she finally had the chance to observe the man without having her staring seem weird. He looked young - younger than her for sure. As he organised his things, he almost looked nervous but at the same time he looked right, covered in flour and hair pulled up into a messy bun, clearly telling the truth about the cooking incident.

“Alright.” He clapped his hands, more to gather his thoughts than to grab everyone’s attention. “First I guess I’ll introduce myself and tell you a little about me.” He said, then looked around to make sure everyone was okay with that. Pearl saw a few nods out of her peripheral vision. “Okay then. I’m Harry Styles. I’ve just recently graduated culinary school and began working as assistant head baker here at Lilly’s Bakery. Lilly is a real nice lady.” Harry smiled, and Pearl couldn’t help but notice how nice it looked. It was the kind of genuine expression of feelings that not even a grump like her could pretend wasn’t special. And dammit if it didn’t have her feeling a little bit less hesitant. “I don’t know if we should go around and introduce ourselves one by one or just get right into the cooking. This is my first class so-”

“Normally that’s how it goes.” A lady from the back interrupted. “It’s polite to learn everyone’s name in the kitchen.”

“We’ll start with you at the front then.” Harry gestured to Pearl. Something about him was so carefree. Pearl had been around him for less than five minutes but still, some lady cut him off mid sentence and his beaming happiness stayed clear on his every feature the entire time.

“Hi. I’m Pearl.” She tried to sound excited. But, truth be told, she just wasn’t like Harry. She wasn’t unhappy per se, or had any problems with the people around her. She was simply at her baseline where friendliness was never her strongest skill.

“What do you do?” Harry was quick to ask, taking her blank gaze as a sign that he’d have to question her if he wanted to know more.

And because her job was where her pride resided, she had no problem lighting up. “I’m a florist.”

“That so cool.” He instantly responded. “I’ve never met a florist before.”

“Must not have been a very good boyfriend then.” She jokingly suggested, watching his eye squint a little at her insinuation. It was just a proven fact that good boyfriends or girlfriends get their loved ones flowers. It made the relationship that much sweeter.

He was opening his mouth to come back at her when Pearl’s neighbor spoke up. “Aw, he looks like quite the lovely young man.”

“I very much am.” Harry’s chest puffed out underneath the apron he wore like a badge of honor, like a Superman emblem was sewn front and center. “No one’s ever complained about my desserts before. They make excellent gifts.”

“Mhmm. Sure they do.” Pearl was sure. But not really. Because flowers trumped whatever kind of cake he could make any day, and she was willing to bet money. The emotion behind a well crafted bouquet held so much more than a few sugary treats.

After a small stare down, Pearl ended up cracking a smile, turning her gaze to look at the lady next to her so everyone would just move on.

Her name was Jill. She was a housewife who wanted to learn to be more technical in her cooking, to impress her family just that little bit more.

Maxine was a doctor who was nearly as quiet as Pearl.

Kathy was the one who had interrupted Harry earlier, but it turned out that she was also in the medical field, a first responder who loved to take classes when she had time off just for some normalcy. During Kathy’s introduction, Pearl couldn’t keep herself from turning her head in Harry’s direction, especially since she felt like she could feel his eyes on the back of her head. Though, she turned around to find him paying all his attention to Kathy.

Pearl played it cool, and didn’t look away from neither William nor Matthew as both men introduced themselves. They were actually good friends that were sent there by their wives so the ladies could have some alone time with the men out of their hair.

“I’ve kind of laid these classes out so that they are set up by the sequence of meals in a day.” Harry drawed everyone’s attention back to the front of the class, back to what they came to do. “As it goes, we’ll start with a breakfast favorite - croissants! And we’ll make them from scratch.”

The idea of learning how to make a light fluffy pastry that Pearl often loved to slather in butter didn’t sound too bad to her. Maybe even convenient. And Harry was already talking a mile a minute about the layers of dough and butter they’d be making and kneading then rolling out before she could even shrug in acceptance. Before she knew it, ingredients were being handed out and all six students were following along to Harry’s simple instructions.

First they were activating yeast with warm water, then adding just one cup of flour to that. All the science that Harry was explaining about what they were doing and what they would do, went right over Pearl’s head, probably everyone else’s too. But whenever he looked up from his mixing bowl, she smiled and nodded like she knew what was happening to the gluten.

Harry pulled out six pre made mixtures he had left sitting so they wouldn’t have to wait for the dough to rise in class, cutting down waiting time. Next they got to do the “fun stuff” - kneading the dough with their hands. Which probably would be a lot more fun if Pearl had remembered to take off her mood ring and kept it from getting embarrassingly covered in dough. Everyone around commented on her rookie mistake, even good ol’ Matthew in the back, who had probably never seen a ball of sticky dough before either laughed about what an “amateur move” it was. Harry reassured her it would all come out of the nooks and crannies of the flower design once it properly dried, holding back his smug grin at Pearl’s genuine frown.

Moving on to the next step of incorporating the big block of butter while rolling the dough in a square-folding method, Harry walked around to each person to offer up assurance. Apparently this was the most important step so that the croissants would end up having millions of layers and that distinctive lightness.

It had Pearl completely stumped. Every time she rolled out her dough, it just came rebounding back, not all the way but enough to aggravate her. And even more so that she had to keep doing it wrong since Harry came to her last.

“Why do you look so defeated?” Harry noted, approaching her counter and seeing her nearly slumping in her stool, half attempting to get the dough to stay.

“It won’t go right.” She dropped the rolling pin and huffed an exaggerated breath.

“That’s because you’re not putting in any effort.” Harry rounded her counter and stood by her side, grabbing her rolling pin and with one strong motion, the dough stuck - or more than it did for her. “You have to put a little muscle behind it.” He rolled again, elongating the dough before finally folding it over and turning it to start again, just like the recipe required. “Here! Try it with more force.” He handed her back the pin and encouraged her to stand up.

Pearl sighed and went for another go, using a little more of the strength she knew she had. Still it rolled back more than it was supposed to.

“Like this.” Harry spoke, and next thing she knew, he had both hands over hers, hip to hip with her, and rolling at her dough together. From an outsider’s perspective, she knew they looked like damn fools - straight out of a cheesy movie where the guy used this moment to lay a smooth pick up line on the leading female character. Something slightly off putting, but not so much that it kept the shiver from running up their spines.

The generic moment they were sharing didn’t stop her from letting him help her, and once she got it and the dough had clearly been rolled enough and Harry didn’t let up his grip, she had to turn away to hide her face because somehow she felt like she was blushing.

To redeem herself, she had to say something, anything to distract Harry from her quickened breath. “I didn’t see you doing this with Jill.”

“Jill is better at this than you.” Harry spoke evenly, right into her ear. It wasn’t a whisper but rather a mumble, smooth and confident. “They kind of all are.” He held on for a second more, then stepped away to catch her scorned expression.

“Hey!” She whined. “That’s not conducive to a learning environment.”

“Sorry, new teacher.” He placed a hand over his chest indicating he was talking about himself, leaving yet another flour handprint when he moved it away.

—

She couldn’t or wouldn’t dare tell her sister that she didn’t hate the class. It would give her too much satisfaction. So when her sister called that night, she shrugged and said, “I didn’t burn the croissants.”

—

That whole not-burning-things didn’t last long, not even through the very next class. In her defense, Pearl got all the way to the end before she completely and utterly turned her panini into a lump of charcoal. She wasn’t sure why, maybe it was the text message she got from her sister, or maybe it was the distracting force that was Harry chopping vegetables up with the other ladies. They were all going for healthy while Pearl threw some chicken she successfully cooked and a handful of shredded cheese on two slices of bread.

Harry was being charming, shamelessly flirting with the ladies, making them laugh and gleam with a certain aura older women always got around young men. Anyone would’ve been distracted by the scene… Well, apparently not Matthew or William, because while they produced two beautiful, edible dishes, a stench wafted through the room. Pearl automatically knew the burnt smell was her doing without even lifting the press. She unplugged it and gave up.

“Awww, honey.” Kathy sympathised, placing her knife down and walking over to Pearl. “Come join us.” She grabbed for her wrist. “We’ll start over.”

Pearl shuffled to the guidance of the wise woman and avoided eye contact with everyone.

“I personally hate these presses.” Harry randomly spoke up without moving from his task at hand. “They’re a bit temperamental so they can really mess you up.”

The ladies nodded, probably also trying to make Pearl feel alright about what happened, and began discussing how all these new appliances were trying to out do a simple pot and pan - the backbone to cooking in their opinion. Harry agreed wholeheartedly. Pearl slowly began to help put her second attempt together.

And that one turned out better, completely edible. Though, that was probably due to Harry’s constant vigilance that he tried to hide from across the counter. Pearl didn’t fail to notice how he was the one to lift it at just the right moment, prompting Pearl to turn it off and scrape the panini from the hot plate.

“You need some help cleaning that one up?” Kathy offered her assistance to Pearl as everyone was filing out of the small bakery, motioning towards the poor, burnt panini press.

“No, thanks.” Pearl stood up and slide her phone into her back pocket. “I was just waiting for everyone else to finish up since I figured it would take a little extra elbow grease.”

Kathy nodded. “I spotted a Brillo pad back there. Take that to the burnt cheese and it’ll lift right off.”

Pearl took that in as she finally peeled the press open to see it completely covered in blackened cheese. She smiled and began her walk to the sink, waving goodbye to the last lady.

She was elbow deep in soapy water, scrubbing the metal, cursing the world when she heard someone approaching. She knew who it was just by the chuckle she heard.

“Ha ha ha. Pearl can’t cook. I get it.” She knew she was being self deprecating. She knew she was feeling sorry for herself. But it was better she got it out so Harry’s teasing would just seem redundant.

“You just lose attention easily, I think.” Harry made his way next to her, leaning a hip on the counter and staring her down. The stare wasn’t intimidating, or creepy, but there was something behind it. Like he was studying her, perhaps.

And since Pearl wasn’t one to turn away from anything, hence the cooking class she was attending even though she hated the art, she stared back and slowly replied, “Ya think?”

Harry’s eyes dropped a little to her lips, lingering for a second too long, watching the smirk slide onto them.

“Need help?” He coughed, and looked away to the soapy water.

“Wouldn’t want you to work too hard.” She teased, turning away from him. Pearl was proud of herself for the obvious effect she had on the young man. She knew she was beautiful - not in a cocky way or in a way that left her using it as a weapon, but in a way that allowed her to run around this world confidently and with a poise attitude. And if that let her trip up a cute boy or two, she didn’t mind, not really.

“Okay.” Harry sounded taken aback, as if the fact that she stared at him in that way and then didn’t fall weak at the knees was completely bizarre. He hopped on the counter next to her, and even though it was a little clumsy, he spoke with a smirk in his voice. “I’ll stay right here and admire the view then.”

Pearl rolled her eyes and kept scrapping at the pan with her metal sponge, blowing at her wispy hair when it fell in her way.

Slowly she was getting it clean. After about 10 minutes, and minimal comments from Harry, she was drying it off and wishing to never see it again.

“But you’re learning a lot from my class, right?” Harry concluded as he followed Pearl to the exit, needing to close up shop once everyone was gone.

“Oh tons.” Pearl stopped near the register so she could face him. One thing about Pearl was that if she was going to take a jab at someone, she preferred it said to their face. “Like how to burn something like a panini in a panini press. Or how to clean said press after.”

Harry shook his head. “Again, it’s your attention span, not my lessons.”

“Maybe I’m just in a distracting environment.”

Pearl raised her hands to gesture towards the bright pink walls with tiny little cupcakes on them, or the displays of cakes towards the storefront. Harry got another idea though, puffing his chest out just that much more, biting his bottom lip to suppress (or possibly highlight) his grin.

“I do look good in an apron, don’t I?” He patted down his body, covered by the red, messy apron, so sure in his flirtation that Pearl almost felt herself enjoy it. She definitely liked flirting, that wasn’t in the question. She just didn’t like to be the one to get flustered first and grin like an idiot.

“Eh, I don’t think it was the apron.” Pearl contested.

“Yeah, but it was me so it’s still a win on my part.”

Pearl rolled her eyes while shaking her head, “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“How could I not be flattered when someone like you almost destroys an appliance because of my apron?”

Pearl didn’t know much about Harry, but she was starting to grasp bits and pieces of who he was.

“You’re a dick, you know that?” Pearl was tempted to crush his foot with the heel of her boot for insinuating such false things.

“Next class I’ll make it up to you.” Harry leaned in closer and attempted to charm, seeing himself as being on a roll. “I won’t give the other ladies any attention just so you won’t overcook your spaghetti.”

“Spaghetti?” Pearl perked up. Halfway because she loves pasta. Halfway because of the change of topic.

“We’re doing a classic spaghetti and meatball.”

“I don’t hate the idea.” She stepped one step closer to the door.

“Yes! Point for Harry!” He exclaimed, fist in the air.

And with that, she’s out the door, trying to shake the flutters the dorky, cocky, flirty boy gave her.

—

At work that following Monday, she arranged six bouquets for varying funerals, three to be sent off to a hospital, and one with a note that said “if you could just love me again, everything else would fall into place”.

The only saving grace of such a sullen work day was the fact she had packed her own lunch - a panini with chicken and tomato.

—

The spaghetti was boiling, and everything was going fine. For once, Pearl didn’t feel on constant high alert near a pot of roaring water. She was able to be like everyone else and listen to Harry’s instructions on how to shape the meatballs just right without having to keep one eye on the pasta.

She was feeling confident. All she had to do was cook the meatballs - making sure they weren’t too raw, or too well-done. Then she’d place them on top of the noodles she strained, and cover it all with the sauce she had already made. She wasn’t sure, because maybe it was all a fluke, but she figured it didn’t taste too bad.

So the pressure was really on to cook the meatballs just right. She was just staring at them - or through them into another realm where cooking wasn’t like learning trigonometry - when Harry approached her.

“You ready to cook those or are you still trying to win this staring contest?” He grinned when Pearl broke her concentration to glare daggers at him. “Op, you lose!”

Add that to the list of things Pearl was discovering Harry was: goofy, always trying to get a laugh, cheeky more often than not.

She rolled her eyes, because what else could she do at the boys brightness, and tried a pleading smile of her own.“Ehhhh, see, I’m thinking maybe you can cook them for me?”

“And why would I do that?” Harry looked shocked at her offer, as if it wasn’t obvious that she killed all the food she touched, as if he couldn’t see the hesitance in her eyes.

“Um, maybe so I won’t burn them and ruin all the hard work I’ve put in for the day?” The slip of that honest question made Pearl realised her front - the one that said I don’t give a fuck about this class - was actually just a front. Somewhere along the way, she started to care if she could actually be able to replicate any of this in the real world, away from all the other students and the young teacher who was better than his years should’ve allowed.

Harry kind of seemed fed up with her self deprecating ways. He was there to see her burn a glorified cheese toastie, but that didn’t cause him to lose faith in her, causing him to sigh and place a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “That’s not going to happen, Pearl.”

“How do you know?” She genuinely wanted to know.

“Because you’re going to focus on what you’re doing.” He let his hand drop from her. “And if not, I’ll be here to turn the fryer off before they crisp up.”

Pearl exhaled a large breath, then turned the pan on, waiting for the oil to heat up just enough. It started to hardly crackle, and one look at Harry assured her it was time to place the meat in the pan. She watched diligently, not looking away when she wanted to, when Maxine and Jill were making jokes or when Matthew and Kathy complimented each other’s dishes. She stood and watched, turning the meatballs when the underside browned.

About five minutes later, she pulled them off the fire. They looked done, though she could cut into them and find the insides still raw and be completely disappointed in herself.

“What do you think?” She held the pan out to Harry. He kept his hands still behind his back, not saying a word but giving a reassuring head nod. “Alright? Cat got your tongue?” Pearl teased as she turned back to the noodles.

With great finesse, she placed a tongs-worth of pasta onto the plate, then the meatballs, then a generous ladle full of robust tomato sauce. Finally, now that she could, she looked around the room to see everyone else done and enjoying their food. It felt good to be done too, even if she took longer than everyone else. This crowd didn’t really care about that kind of thing anyway, too busy talking about the 80’s or like, the Great Depression or something.

“Well then?” Harry nudged her elbow with his own, gesturing with his eyes to the spaghetti and meatballs.

“Alright, alright.” She picked up the fork, going straight in, cutting a meatball in half to find the inside wasn’t still pink, but browned all the way through. Placing a bite inside her mouth, with equal parts of all the components, it wasn’t an unenjoyable experience. Dare she say, it was even good.

“Shit.” Pearl let out once her mouth was no longer full. “That isn’t half bad. Taste it?” With excitement, she handed off her fork to Harry.

He took no pause in eating some, nodding along as he chewed. “Not half bad at all, Pearl.”

At that point she just couldn’t help it, too giggly and impressed with herself to hold in the squeal that was destined to be released. And then, out of fucking nowhere, she was wrapping her arms around Harry’s shoulders for a celebratory hug. Harry was quick to respond, laughing so pleasantly and holding her middle tight, barely lifting her feet from the ground.

Off to the side, where the other students sat, loud clapping and whistling sounded. Pearl backed out of Harry’s arms, her grin not leaving even if she felt like it should’ve. Pearl wasn’t one to feel shame - not for successfully cooking something and definitely not for hugging someone when she wanted to.

And if the rosey cheeks and dimples Harry was sporting was any indication, he wasn’t one to feel it either.

—

“Where is everyone?” Pearl questioned, entering the bakery that was completely empty except for Harry, who was sitting on his stool, going through what looked to be a recipe book.

He looked up and smiled. “The guys rescheduled for next weekend, Maxine got called in for work, Jill had to take her son somewhere, and Kathy got sick. They’ve been calling throughout the week and dropping like flies.” Something about his face read disappointment, but then a shrug of the shoulders washed that away.

“Aw, that’s sad.” Pearl puffed her lip out, thinking about the four older, lovely people she had grown a distant but unique bond with over the last month. “I won’t see them again.”

“I’m sure you will. The next time you take one of my classes will be a perfect time.” Harry closed his book and rounded the counter, standing next to Pearl.

Pearl shook her head. “I’m not so sure there will be a next time.”

“Is that right?” Harry faked offense, to which Pearl nodded with a straight face. “Well I think you’ll change your mind after today.”

“Oh? And why’s that?”

“Pie.” He said, lifting up a pie pan in one hand and a rolling pin in the other.

And that was something she could get behind, definitely one of the main reasons she convinced herself to go to this class in the first place. She couldn’t keep a bland expression at the concept of her being able to make her favorite kind of dessert. When he told her what kind they’d be making, she tried to pretend she wasn’t jumping for joy on the inside.

Side by side, Harry talked her through each step of the pie making process. They started with a crust, mixing the ingredients slowly as to not make it too crumbly. Once it was just combined, Harry urged her to use her hands to flatten the dough before rolling it out. This time she didn’t need Harry to cheekily wrap his arms around her so it would go right, it just did on it’s own. With much care, she carefully put the pie crust into the pan and into the oven to bake it while they made the filling.

That part was a little more complicated. It required heating lemon juice, zest, dry ingredients, and water in a saucepan until it boiled. Once it did, she had to “temper” the eggs and pour them into the mixture. After a little bit, it thickened and Harry made sure she pulled it off of the heat. She poured that into the crust Harry had removed from the oven, and then all that was left was making the meringue.

That required whipping four eggs until they became foamy. Harry kept warning her to get the “peaks” just right so they would brown in the oven. She kept telling him to do it himself if peaks were so important to him. He didn’t, and shut up as she kept whipping.

Before she even realised it, Pearl’s first pie was browning in the oven and they were cleaning up the mess. Together, it didn’t take too long.

The pie was done quicker than she had assumed it would take. And Harry was cutting slices out of her first lemon meringue.

Again, that anxiety of it tasting awful washed over her, but after one bite, she had to pat herself on the back. Sure it wasn’t the best pie this world had ever seen, but she was impressed. And just like before, Harry did a slow nod after taking a bite, probably something he learned from his teachers at culinary school.

“Well, the meringue could’ve been stiffer.” Harry judged through his bite of pie. “Other than that, not bad.”

Pearl caught the innuendo, even if it wasn’t meant to be one.

“Oh, the peaks weren’t stiff enough for you?” Pearl questioned from the other side of the counter, watching the boys eyes lower to pie that sat between them.

“Not quite.” He barely moved his head left to right.

“Do you flirt with everyone you teach?” She let her hips rest against the bench of the counter, not being able to resist the look in her cooking instructors eyes - something that said he couldn’t resist the look in hers.

“I try, but the other ladies weren’t as receptive.”

“I’m not receptive.”

“Then why are you leaning in?” He moved his eyes down her body, her body that was nearly bent over to be closer to him even though the counter was in the way.

Pearl coughed and backed off, noticing that maybe she was being a little too forward, that maybe she wasn’t thinking everything through. “You’re a little too young for me, don’t you think?”

“What do you mean?” Harry backed up too, but just to walk around the counter and get even closer than before, and with nothing obstructing his path this time. “There is no way you’re that much older.”

Pearl rested her hand on one hip. She wasn’t for sure they had a huge age difference, but she knew she had a few years on him. “How old are you?”

“Twenty-two.” He said without taking a beat.

“I’m an entire high school experience older than you.” Pearl exclaimed. Four years didn’t seem so much to her, not really, but normally boys younger than her didn’t even appear on her radar and here she was fixated on the rough red lips of this one.

“Oh god, four years.” Harry placed one hand over his mouth, acting like he said a curse of some sort and regretted it dearly. “Should I call life alert now?”

And then Pearl was laughing, fed up with his smart mouth, but simultaneously enjoying the way it looked when he cracked some dumb joke.

“Shut up.” She demanded, pushing him away by the shoulder.

“No seriously, I wouldn’t want you to break a hip and not be able to get help.” He recovered lost ground, inching closer and joking all the while. “Maybe we should look up those automatic chairs that can ride you up a flight of stairs. Do you have stairs in your flat?” Pearl wouldn’t dignify that with a response. “But seriously, Pearl.” Harry shook his curls. “Four years is nothing at our age.”

“I don’t know.” Pearl pretended to think it over. Really, she kind of made her mind up when he started bringing up her hips. “I’m quite the cougar, aren’t I?”

“I’m not opposed.” Harry took a step.

Pearl grabbed at the sides of his apron, holding them just to have something in her hands. “I bet you are, culinary master.”

“I’m glad Jill isn’t here to hear you talk so dirty.” He murmured with a playful grin.

“The sad thing is, that probably is dirty talk to you.” Pearl kept her volume low, matching his as they moved just that much closer, now so close they could almost taste the pie on each other’s lips.

Harry shrugged, unashamed for who he was, licking his lips like a tease. Pearl couldn’t hold it back any longer, the curiosity too intense to play this game. She slotted their lips together in one quick movement.

Harry tasted just like she imagined - sugary and tangy, equaling out to be just right. It was intoxicating in every sense of the word, making her feel so high she wasn’t sure she’d be able to stop. Good for her, Harry didn’t seem to want to slow down any more than she did, sliding his tongue slowly into her mouth when she let her lips part invitingly, sliding his hands underneath the bottom of her shirt to better grip her hips.

Pearl took that as a sign for wanted closeness so she pushed her body flush against his, wrapping her arms around his neck. A moan escaped her involuntarily when Harry hooked her knee around his body and sat her on the flour covered bench. That action alone was enough to drive her crazy, making her yearn for a taste of every part of Harry’s skin.

She was nipping at his collarbone, untying his apron - the damned thing that could only look so good on a beautiful boy like him, when Harry stopped her hands. “Maybe we should… cool it?”

“Cool it?” She whispered out between warm bites.

“Yeah. Sex at the place that I work and the counter I make cupcakes on isn’t quite up to health code.” That fact looked physically painful leaving Harry’s reddened mouth.

As much Pearl didn’t really want to stop, she knew they had to, or at least for now.

“So then where would it be acceptable, culinary master?” Pearl smirked, hopping off the counter and skimming her hands up his torso, then around his waist, retying his apron so he could retain that last little bit of professionalism.

He tangled their fingers together and whispered, “Follow me.”