#i will wake up early i will get at least 2 drawings done i will brave the apple store and fix my phone

[haunthouse]

need to make more prints before flamecon...... perhaps i will do some pacrim content for its 10th anniversary. people are still into pacrim enough to buy prints of it at gay comiccon right

[theticklingknot]

2 - Ground Rules

HD and 4K need to work out some ground rules between them for this new life together. And HD has to experience his first tickling session.

Had to finish off last minute things to get this out. Namely the updated art for the blog. But with that done now the next chapters should come a lot smoother, just a matter of finishing art for them.

As always, please enjoy.

HD had woken up early morning, as far as they could guess. The opening to the sky above showed gray clouds but it hadn’t rained yet. Birds were out singing in the distance, slowly drawing HD from their dreamless sleep. They weren’t one to usually lounge in bed but today they felt like he needed it. Today was a lot.

The events of yesterday were clear in their mind the moment they woke up. They remembered everything. The deal, the agreements, the...tickling.

HD’s face flushed again and he buried it into a pillow by his head. It wasn’t so much the tickling he was embarrassed by but the moments after. When he was so soft and meek and let himself be so easily carried to bed. He wouldn’t be able to shake that one off for a while.

But while his thoughts swam in the embarrassed he also took the time to take in everything.

Overall, his plan had worked and that was something to be thankful for. It would be an adjustment to be the tickle toy – as the demon so crudely put it – to 4K but it was a sacrifice he could make.

Now the question was...where was the demon?

HD knew the deal wasn’t broken, so he had no need to worry but he was...curious. He didn’t really know what 4K did outside of kidnapping people. There was no good time to ask last night if he had any hobbies.

Or maybe he was just lurking somewhere in the cave, waiting to pounce HD down and tickle him silly.

No. He couldn’t think like that. That would just make him paranoid. With a wakening shake, HD pushed himself to sit up. Seemingly just at the right time as 4K came up the slope.

“Oh good! You’re awake!”

The demon was all smiles again as he came towards the edge of the stone bed. He wore simpler clothes today; a long black robe over duller red top and loose black trousers. His hair was pulled back into a more managed ponytail, but it was still flicking out wildly at the sides.

“I wasn’t sure how long you’d sleep for. Didn’t wanna wake you but I made breakfast if you want it. Just some eggs and fish, nothing fancy.”

“You...cook?”

Somehow that was that should have been the last thing to focus on, but HD somehow latched onto the fact. It was something personal about 4K apart from his love for tickling. It was new.

“Of course! You think I survive on herbs and berries?”

Not with those muscles. HD thought, thankfully keeping it in his mind.

“You want the breakfast, or not?” 4K asked, almost sounding annoyed.

The pang of hunger was slowly gnawing at HD’s stomach though he had tried to ignore it. Gratefully he accepted with a, “Yes. Please…” and 4K lead HD back down to the cave.

While still shadowed the cave had a different feel in the dim light of morning. It was less ominous. The rocks weren’t so jagged or misleading. 4K took HD down the walk way on the right and went into the first small cavern. It was a kitchen room, or at least trying it’s best to imitate a kitchen room. There was an old wooden table in the centre of the room, an off-white cloth thrown over it in an attempt to hide the stains and scratches. The chairs were in just a bit better condition but neither were the same type of wood to match the table. A small campfire lay off to the side, currently cooking a line of fish that hung from their skewers.

There were plates on the table – once again mismatched – with cooked eggs on top.

4K tended to the fire and fish while HD eyed over the furniture and eggs with suspicious. “Where did you get the table and chairs?” He asked. “And the eggs.” He added, noting he had not seen or heard a single chicken.

4K gave an almost smug smile. “Human stuff. They leave it lying around.”

He knew what the answer would be, and yet it still didn’t make it any better. “We made a deal. You wouldn’t harass the humans.”

“No. I said I wouldn’t harm humans, so long as they didn’t harm me first. And, since our little deal is still in tact, seems your terms and conditions don’t consider stealing as harmful.”

He knew the deal hadn’t been broken, and yet HD still reached out to his heart just to check. Still there, the knot in his heart that bound him to 4K.

“I… Can feel that.” 4K’s voice wavered slightly as he took the skewer from the fire.

“You can?” HD asked, genuinely surprised. “When I… Just there?”

“Yes. Like a little tug on my heart. Or...maybe like a squeeze.”

That was a new feature. Though perhaps not. HD had never kept deals long enough to know really, the transaction was done or broken in the same day. He’d have to keep aware of it.

“And even though it’s none of your business. I didn’t steal the furniture.” 4K said matter-of-factly while he divided the fish between them. “I think this cave used to be used for smuggling or...something. When I got here there were no humans but a they left a bunch of stuff.”

“And the crates out front? Were they left here?”

HD knew they weren’t. 4K knew HD knew they weren’t but it didn’t stop his smug smile. “Maybe. Anyway, enough of that.” He sat on one of the chairs and motioned to the other. “Sit and eat. We have a few things to discuss.”

HD raised one eyebrow, but he moved over to the chair opposite. “Discuss what?” He asked as he sat down.

4K was already eating, tearing into the fish with his fangs as he spoke. “We need to lay some ground rules.” He spoke between mouthfulls.

“Those should have been set last night, when the deal was made.” HD said, somewhat annoyed. There was a spoon laid by the plate of eggs that HD picked up after making sure it was clean.

“These aren’t deal breakers, relax.” 4K quickly assured. “It’s like...house rules. Boundaries. Since we are going to be with each other for eternity we should make this as smooth as possible.”

That made more sense that HD could agree to that. “Okay…” He slowly nodded. “What are they?”

“You’re going to need a safeword.” 4K said instantly.

HD blinked. “A...what?”

“A safeword. Something you can remember easily so you can use when you want sessions to end or…”

“I know what a safeword is.” HD quickly corrected. “I mean like...why would you want me to have that? I thought the whole idea was I was for...that.”

4K’s lips curled into an almost scowl and a flash of what looked like hurt passed over his eyes. “I’m a demon. Not a monster.”

A sweep of guilt overcame HD. “I-I didn’t mean it that way.”

“It’s fine.” 4K shrugged. “It’s natural to assume.”

But it wasn’t fine. A deep pit of shame swelled in HD. He knew the sting of people assuming. Even as he helped humans he saw the way they whispered about him or gave his wary looks. No matter what he did he’d always just be a fae creature to them. No matter how many people he helped, it wouldn’t be enough.

“I… I am sorry for assuming. I didn’t mean it to come out that way.” HD apologised. “I just meant that since I agreed to the deal, that would be consent for...all that.”

“Well I...do appreciate it.” 4K sounded almost surprised the apology was genuine. HD wondered how. “But consent today doesn’t count to tomorrow. You still need a safeword.”

HD paused his eating to think. A flurry of words came to mind, but only one stuck out. “Clouds? Would that work?”

“Yes, that should be fine.” 4K said after thinking for a second. “It’s short so you can say it quickly and it will be easy to remember.” He looked over at HD, his eyes growing serious. Or as serious as 4K could look. “You use that whenever you need. If you want the tickling to stop, or even if you just don’t want me to touch you for the day. I won’t ask questions.”

This didn’t feel like the same demon HD talked to last night. This didn’t feel like the demon the morals told him stories off.

“Were you this kind to the others you’d tickle?”

4K paused mid eating. His dumbfounded look quickly melted to a grin as he looked over to HD.

“Is that your question for the session?”

It took a moment to click what 4K meant, and HD’s confused expression changed to a blush. “N-No!” HD quickly flustered. He couldn’t waste his question on that. “That doesn’t-!”

“Relax, Starlight!” 4K couldn’t help but laugh. “I’m teasing you. No. I was not this nice to the others.” He lifted one of his fish back up, which was already torn apart with only the tail left. “Though, I didn’t have any others for long. But you I have for life.”

Another question popped into HD’s head and he had to bite his lips to stop himself from blurting it out without thinking again. “Can I ask another question? That doesn’t count to...the session.”

4K paused eating again to look at HD. His eyes flicking back and forth over the dae like he was thinking, before he spoke. “If I can ask you one?”

“Okay…” HD said unsurely.

“Since you want your questions before the tickling to be saved, that’s means they’re specific, right? What will your specific questions about?”

There was no use lying, though that was HD’s first response. 4K would figure it out anyway when the time came to ask him. “Demons…” HD mumbled, though 4K’s ears twitched to hear him. “I have some about you but...demons mostly.” He admitted.

4K gave a dangerous smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Seems I was right to make sure you couldn’t bring anything to hurt me.”

“I’m not going to hurt you…” HD tried to assure but even he didn’t believe his own voice. It was a demon he was dealing with. A demon that seemed to only be tickling his victims than doing something worse, but it was a demon non the less.

“Sure.” 4K’s voice was distant and his focus was back onto his food. “What’s your question?”

“What was the longest time you’ve kept a human?”

4K gave a shrug. “I think a couple days.”

HD blinked. That couldn’t be right. Some of the victims reported being kept for a week. The maximum was ten days. Was 4K lying? Why would he need to? Then that could only mean the humans were but...why?

“You think so loudly.” 4K suddenly said, pulling HD from his thoughts.

“The… In town. Humans are claiming you’ve kept them for a week. Sometimes longer.”

4K blinked now. His eyebrows shot up to his hairline as he huffed. “Well they’re lying.”

HD was careful not to sound accusing, but he had a feeling it would be taken that way no matter what. “There are a few who said it’s been multiple days.”

“Then a few are lying.” 4K quickly retorted. “I only kept the townsfolk less than a day. The ones I kept for a couple were bandits but never longer than that.”

HD didn’t know if demon lied as often as fae, but he believed 4K. Something about his shock seemed real and he knew humans were no strangers to lying either.

His paused must have came off wrong to 4K as his lips twisted to an almost snarl. “Suppose because I’m a demon, I’m lying about that.”

“No.” HD spoke calmly. “I believe you.”

The fight left 4K then, though he kept his guard up and eyed HD warily. “You believe the demon so easily?”

“We are going to be together for life, as you said.” HD pointed out. “Best we make it as smooth as possible.”

That was something 4K could agree to. He hummed, partly in agreement and partly in thought. He was already distracted, looking off into the distance before looking back to HD again. “We have a few more things to discuss, but that should be after we eat. I have to show you around the place.”

HD had picked at his food though the conversation but now the pang of hunger came again and he quickly ate. It tasted a lot nicer than he thought it would, though he kept that thought to himself. He made note that 4K was a surprisingly good cook.

The first part of the tour had 4K lead HD further down the tunnel. It wasn’t far from the kitchen and the cavern was just a bit bigger but it was decorated more cosy, and HD realised it was a bedroom.

“This will be your space.” 4K explained while he vaguely motioned to the room. “You can change and decorate it how you like, this was just so you had a bed.”

Despite it still being a cave, the room was actually cosy. There was a small indent in the ground, where furs and some pillows were set up like a bed. A dim lantern hung from the ceiling but there was a small clump of light blue crystals growing from the wall beside the bed. They gave off a dim glow which HD was fascinated with.

“They dim and glow at random periods. Or maybe they have a pattern and I’ve never seen it. I’ve not been in here much to know.” 4K explained.

“How many caverns does this cave have?” HD asked curiously while he felt over the furs on the bed. They were invitingly soft.

“A lot. A lot I’ve not gone into much. Some are deep into the mountain. Nothing but bats down there.” 4K shrugged then half turned in the doorway towards the hall. “Come on. Let’s go outside.”

The mention of outside was enough to pull HD away from the furs and quickly follow after 4K. They had not realised how much they longed to be under the open sky again. Caves were fine for shelter against the cold, but nothing would compare to the freeing open air.

The clouds were still overcast, but the day was warm and the air was cooling. As they slipped passed the waterfall and out into the open glade, HD gave a soft sigh. The tension in his shoulders melted away. It helped the demon also happed to live on such a beautiful mountain.

“The mountain is your home now as well. You can roam around it freely.” 4K carried on explaining. He walked slowly around the pond and HD joined him. “You are not bound to it, leave and return as you like, though I would advise from bringing anyone here or letting them follow you back. Humans don’t usually react favourably to demons and I’d hate to have to defend myself against your companion.”

“I won’t bring anyone here.” HD quickly promised, surprised 4K even allowed him that freedom. “I won’t leave the mountain.”

The demon hummed, sounded half interested and half disbelieving. “No? No friends to visit?” 4K asked. “Family?”

“No.” HD quickly replied, and spoke again to not draw attention to it. “I just need my one week in the month. For the rest of the time I’ll be here.”

“Yes.” 4K’s tone shifted, less quizzical and more serious. “While you bring that up, we should discuss that. You’ll need to choose your week. Unless you want it to be different each month.”

HD was relieved for the conversation shift. “Well, I actually have a proposal for that.” He started, and quickly added. “Which I don’t think you’ll like.”

“Okay? Well you’ve been very convincing before. Let’s hear it.”

It was an idea HD thought of in the morning, when his mind was trying to distract him from thinking about anything other than the tickling last night. And though it would be a hard sell to 4K, it made sense over all. “I propose that I take the week off at the end of the month. And then, the week off at the start of the next month.”

As predicted, 4K looked wary to the suggestion but he wasn’t outright refusing it. Instead he asked, clarifying. “So, you want two weeks essentially.”

“Technically yes. But, it would still be just one week each month.” HD reasoned. “And it will solve the issue of me returning on time. I can finish up what I need to do in two weeks easily.”

HD expected questions, or arguing, or even just the slightest disagreement, but 4K looked convinced right away. He hummed again, with his hands on his hips before nodding. “Yes. That would be fine.”

“Really?” HD asked, shocked.

“Yes.” 4K nodded again then looked to the fae. “While being without someone to tickle for two weeks will absolutely suck, just means when you get back, I have a full six weeks to take out aaaaaall that pent up energy.”

4K grinned and HD could feel the heat rise up through his chest, across his neck and settle over his cheeks as usual. He had no time to retort, or even hide his face before 4K stepped towards him and suddenly the demon was towering over him.

“Speaking of,” his voice went soft and he tapped one of his claws against HD’s nose. “You better get a question ready. Because you’re absolutely getting tickled today.”

Even if he hid his face, HD was sure he was absolutely glowing by now. His whole body felt warm, not at all helped by 4K grinning wider, clearly noticing the effect it had on him.

Trying to regain some control, HD cleared his throat. “What’s your...plan...exactly?” He asked.

“Is that your roundabout way to ask, how I’m going to tickle you?” 4K was straight forward and blunt. Especially when it came to tickling. That was something HD had to get used to. He was here for that reason after all. “Nothing too fancy for your first time.” 4K explained while he backed off from HD. “I figure we could start of with old fashion wrestling. I’ll even make it worth it. If you manage to pin me down, I won’t tickle you.”

That was an interesting proposal. People underestimated HD for his looks but he could handle himself. He was strong. He had a chance. Though as he looked at 4K, with his height and muscles tightening under his clothes, his chance seemed slim. But a slim chance was still a chance.

4K stepped around HD, heading back to the cave and HD quickly spoke up. “Can – Can we do it out here?” His voice was squeakier, spoken in a panic and 4K stopped suddenly. Blinking back at HD in surprise.

“You want to be tickled now?”

Shit.

4K grinned again. “I was gonna give you time. I’m not opposed to going now though.”

Part of HD wished he’d said nothing, then he could prepare himself. But another part of him convinced himself this was best. Getting the tickling out of the way for the day would make HD less on edge and he could know what to expect next time. Yes, by the time 4K turned back to face him, he had convinced himself this was the best outcome.

“What’s your question then?”

HD had a whole list of questions he had ready to ask, but all of them seemed a jumble of words when faced with the prospect of being tickled just minutes later. They tried focusing and calming his thoughts. They’d have more chances to ask more questions, so it made sense to get this one out of the way.

“Do you get energy from tickling?”

The question was a surprise to 4K as his eyes widened just slightly. But surprise was replaced with amusement. He gave a quick laugh, but it wasn’t unkind. “If you’re asking if I do this because I need to, no. I don’t get any benefits from tickling.”

It was an answer but it muddled up the plan HD had in their mind. “So-So you just...tickle? But why?”

“Ah!” 4K tapped his finger against HD’s lips. “That’s two questions. Unless you’re up for a double tickling session today.”

HD’s cheeks quickly went red. “N-No!”

“Thought not. Then you have your answer and you can save your next question.”

It wasn’t the answer HD expected but it was one of the most burning ones out the way. The disappointment of the answer was quickly overshadowed by the knowledge that he was about to let himself be tickled.

“H-How do…?” While HD could tell himself this was for the best to get it out of the way, his voice still betrayed him and gave away his nerves so easily.

“How do we start?” 4K finished for him and chuckled. “We’ll get to that. Just want to go over some things.” His voice went serious again and while it had put HD on edge at the beginning of the day, now it gave him comfort. “You have your safeword now, and you can use it any time. Do you remember it?” HD nodded to the question. “Say it.”

“Clouds.”

“Good. Any time you’re uncomfortable or even just unsure, you use it.”

HD nodded again, this time more confident in the motion.

“Alright. Then we start.”

HD opened his mouth to ask exactly how, but all that came out was a surprised squeak and the world turned on it’s side. His back hit to the soft grass and HD only had a moment in his daze before realising 4K was on top of him, then survival kicked in.

4K didn’t have a good hold on him yet so HD quickly scrambled away. He pushed off 4K’s shoulders, almost slipping away until a hand grabbed around his leg.

“You’re a slippery one!” 4K was laughing and pulled HD up.

His first instinct was to resist, but after a split second thought, HD instead moved with the momentum. 4K was unprepared, over pulling enough to roll himself ever so slightly. HD took that chance, rolling himself out from under 4K and managing to perch over the demon’s back.

It was not a pin at all. HD barely got his legs on either side of 4K’s waist and his arms were still free.

He just needed to pin him somehow. If he could get at 4K’s arms for just a moment he could win. HD convinced himself he could.

However, while he was trying hard to think of how to pin those arms, he wasn’t paying attention to those arms. In one quick motion the hand reached back, grabbing onto HD’s thigh and squeezing.

“GACK!”

The tickly shockwave through HD’s body was enough to jolt them off 4K’s back. They rolled just slightly on their side and before realising their mistake but it was already too late.

It took less than a second for 4K to roll over. He scooped HD up into his arms, pulling the fae’s back against his chest. One arm wrapped around HD’s shoulders, pulling him tight against the demon. 4K’s legs wrapped around HD’s, pulling them tight together.

He could still move his arms just barely, but HD was stuck.

“W-Wahait!”

“Far more slippery than you look.” 4K purred against HD’s ear. His chest rumbled against HD’s back and HD wasn’t sure if he was just too sensitive, or if it was from nerves, but it felt like it tickled along his back.

“Hold-Hold on!” HD begged, grasping at the arm around his shoulders. He hadn’t even considered the fact that 4K had two arms until it rose up, placed high above HD in a claw form. Like an animal poised to strike.

“W-Wa-Wait! Wahait! W-Wahait!”

His pleas fell on deaf ears as the hand struck. HD tried to flinch, but he wasn’t allowed. His body was stretched out, open and vulnerable for 4K to pluck and play with. And play he did.

The hand came to HD’s hip. 4K had wrapped his arm around HD’s waist, so he was holding HD extra tightly as he tickled and kneaded the hip on HD’s right side.

HD didn’t even know if his hips were ticklish, but now he could absolutely confirm they were. He shrieked at first as the tickly shocks ran through him, but it was from the surprise of it. His tensed up nerves suddenly felt alive, struggling in 4K’s arms for release.

“EheheHEHEHEHE! T-Tickles! Ihihit tickles!”

“Oh? Does it tickle?” 4K’s voice sounded surprised, even selling it with a small gasp. “Oh I’m so sorry. What about here?”

The hand moved up, positioning right over HD’s stomach digging his tickling fingers in once again. The shriek wasn’t as loud this time but the laugh was deeper. 4K’s fingers found a spot just beside HD’s hip. Like a direct button into his nerves HD laughed, sputtering out confused whines and pleads. He knew he was ticklish. He never knew how ticklish he was.

“OHOH PLEHEHEEASE! IT TIHIHICKLES IT TICKLES TH-THEEEERE!”

“It tickles again?” 4K’s voice had dropped his surprise. His voice was warm, rumbling like a growl almost. “Well aren’t you just a tickly little thing.”

“G-GOHODS! ST-STOHOP STOP!”

“Not a chance.”

There was no stopping the tickling hand, even as HD’s hands tried to bat and pry at it. His strength he was so confident in was gone.

In a blessing, 4K stopped tickling over his tummy. HD was given just a moments of giggly rest before 4K’s hand came back, this time squeezing and tickling up his sides.

HD howled. He was sure he was begging for his life at that moment, but all the words were lost on him. He only had some semblance of self when the tickling travelled up to his ribs. It still tickled, but it was more a soft drumming against his nerves than the shocks again and again.

“What a spot to find!” 4K voice practically trilled with his glee. His tail whipped under him. “I thought you were about to lose your mind there!”

It already felt like he had lost his mind, but there was some small thread of conscious thought working with HD to free him. 4K’s arms were immovable but he still had a chance.

4K’s legs were strong around HD’s, but with HD struggling and wiggling he could feel just a little give. Enough that in that moment he pulled his leg free. He kicked it off 4K’s legs, enough to get his other leg free as well, but before he could plan any more for his freedom, 4K quickly acted.

He rolled himself and HD so now HD was laying on his front on the ground. The grass tickled at HD’s nose, disorienting him for a moment as 4K moved him. The demon was no longer lying on top of him, but sitting on his lower back. Both of HD’s wrists were grabbed, easily, in one of 4K’s hands and pinned to the ground above his head.

Struggling was pointless yet HD still tried. He could move his legs at least but that was no use. He couldn’t kick high enough to get to 4K, and he couldn’t get any grip onto the grass to even try push himself up. Even then it wouldn’t matter. 4K’s weight wasn’t going to budge.

“You almost got out there.” 4K taunted. His finger just pressed ever so slightly on HD’s back through his top. HD squeaked, already giggling even though the touch wouldn’t normally be so ticklish. A worrying realisation hit HD that he couldn’t see. He couldn’t see where the next tickle was going to hit.

“Please! Please...d-dohon’t!”

“Don’t what?” 4K asked casually as he walked his fingers up HD’s spine.

It tickled so madly. It wasn’t intense, like the tickling on his sides, but more like an itch he just couldn’t get too. It felt worse in that moment, but HD had a feeling that opinion was about to change when 4K chose his next target for his attack.

“T-Tickle me! D-Dohon’t tihihickle me! Please!” HD pleaded, uncaring how high pitched his voice squeaked. He tried to turn his head just enough to look back at 4K, but that was a worse mistake.

The black mane of hair had untangled itself from the hair tie. It fell around the demon like a curtain. It shadowed them both from the dim light of the clouded over sun, but that just meant his orange eyes glowed so brightly and made his grin more maddening. Those orange eyes were just watching his own fingers, slowly crawl up, further and further up HD’s spine. When 4K’s eyes just flicked up to HD’s face, HD quickly looked away. He only hoped his hair was hiding his blush.

“Are you ticklish?” 4K asked.

“Y-Yeesss…”

“How ticklish?”

“V-Vehery!”

“So very ticklish.” 4K said it like he was confirming. His fingers stopped their slow walk between HD’s shoulder blades and instead he drew a lazy circle around and around HD’s back. “A ticklish little thing like you couldn’t handle being tickled over and over.”

“N-No!”

HD didn’t know where it was going or if he should have even been agreeing with 4K, but his mind was in a jumbled mess, wanting to do anything to get out of the situation. His skin wouldn’t stop tingling knowing the tickling was coming. Knowing at any moment those fingers would be attacking his sides, or his armpits, or his ribs. And he had no way of knowing.

“Yet you came to me willingly.” 4K’s voice purred again. “You practically walked into my arms and made a deal to be tickled. Again and again.”

That wasn’t something HD could agree with...or deny. Because it technically was true and yet hearing it being said still sent a shiver through him.

“And I think to myself ‘why’.” 4K carried on. “Why has this gorgeous fae offered themselves up to be my tickle toy for all eternity? What do they get out of it? And the only conclusion I could come to is you want to be tickled.”

Heat flushed HD’s face again and he opened his mouth just in time for the attack. The fingers tracing shapes on HD’s back now dug into his armpit. Attacking his left one first, 4K’s claws skittered into the hollows under his arms. Then quickly moved and tickled the right one, this time using the calloused pads of his finger. He moved between each pit and HD roared in laughter.

His armpits tickled furiously. He had no idea how ticklish they were. Now he was cursing the choice to wear a sleeveless top. He was cursing his skin for ever being so ticklish. And he was cursing himself for offering himself up to a mad demon, hellbent on tickling him into insanity.

“AH! AHAHAHAHAHAHA! OOHOOHOHOOH! NOT THERE NOT THERE!”

“Say you like being tickled.”

It wasn’t a request. HD shook his head, though that could just be from the tickling through his body. He was surprised that the words spouting out between his laughter weren’t deny it. They were agreeing.

“EHEEEEEHEHEHEEHE! TICKLEEEES! I-I like be-beeHEEHEHEING TICKLED!”

Another purr from 4K. This one was deeper, like a growl. His tail softly flicked on the back of HD’s leg. Tickling just ever so slightly but not enough to overtake the tickling in his armpits.

“PLEEEHEHEASE!”

“Say you like being my tickle toy.”

“IHIHIEEEE! I LIKE BEHEING YOUR TIHIHICKLE TOHOHOY!”

“And why did you make a deal?”

“BECAUSE-BECAUSE I WAHAHANT TO BEEE TICKLED!”

“And who do you want to be tickled by?”

“YOU! OHHOHOHOH! AH-AHAHAHAHA! NO! NO! IT TICKLEEEEES! IT TICKLES SOHOHO MUHUHUCH!”

His armpits were tortured for another ten minutes, though HD had lost all sense of time, space or sense. The only thing he knew was tickling. His thoughts and entire being was only being consumed by how ticklish he was, and how even despite the same spot being tickled over and over, his body wouldn’t let him get used to it.

“You alive, little star?”

4K had let go of HD’s wrists, and moved himself off the fae, yet HD was still face first into the ground as he mumbled.

“Noooo…” He winced at the sound of his own voice. It felt scratchy and dry. He couldn’t even muster up the strength to turn himself around, but he could still squeak as he felt 4K’s hands on him again.

“Alright. Let’s get you up.” 4K said as he helped turn HD over.

The thought of having to walk was dizzying, so HD was both parts pleased and embarrassed when 4K curled his arms under his shoulders and knees and hoisted HD up.

He shouldn’t have been so calm in the arms of the demon who just tickled him to the edge of his sanity. But 4K was so warm, his voice was so calming and HD couldn’t help himself from leaning his head on 4K’s shoulder.

“You get real cuddly after you’re tickled.”

That voice just moments ago was teasing HD and working up his nerves, but now he found comfort with it. It felt safe and warm and soothing. HD only hummed in response, only because he didn’t trust his voice wouldn’t squeak again.

4K began a slow walk to the cave entrance that HD couldn’t help but think was for his benefit. He tired not to focus on that fact though, and instead focus on 4K’s words as he kept talking.

“I wasn’t going to tease you so much but, well, you’re just so darn cute. Especially laughing your head off and trying to struggle away. Couldn’t help it.” He gave a breathy laugh, which rumbled in his chest slightly. HD could almost feel it against his ear. “And don’t worry about what you said in the moment. Anything said under tickle torture is through coercion and doesn’t count.”

HD didn’t want to even think about what he’d said during those moments, but the words were sadly running through his head, tied to the memory of him laughing so hard. He didn’t want to have to sort through them, deciding which of the things said were to get the tickling just to stop...and which were real.

“And you didn’t use your safeword either! I’m impressed.” 4K said while he shimmied himself and HD past the waterfall and into the cooling air of the cave. “Honestly thought I’d get you to use it for your first time.”

HD shook his head with the very little energy he could muster. “I’d die of embarrassment if I used it on my first session.”

“Ah! So you can speak. Thought I’d done a number on your voice...or maybe you’d fallen asleep.”

HD’s mood drooped slightly as he realised 4K was taking him to his own cavern room, and not to 4K’s. Of course he was grateful to be given his own space. But he really wanted to be under the open sky at that moment. He wanted to feel the sun and smell the trees as the wind blew by. But he kept his mouth shut and let himself be carried. His room was still nice and the cosy closeness just made HD curl up more.

He was lowered onto the bed nook of soft furs and he instantly melted. In a more aware sense, HD would have been ashamed to be so vulnerable in front of another but right now he couldn’t care. He needed to be soft and coddled and warm. He stretched out over the furs, feeling the tension in his limbs slowly fade before turning on his front and curling into the fur.

“I’ll be right back.” 4K said quickly. True to his word he returned not even five minutes later. He had a cup of water – which HD gratefully gulped down – and his other hand held a plate of food. Fruits to be more specific. A mix of apple and orange slices, with berries.

“Not sure what you like. I hope it’s alright.” 4K’s voice was less confident and he put down the plate beside the bed, within HD’s reach, and sat beside the bed. “I’ll need to get you stuff in you like, so you’ll need to tell me. If-If you don’t like it I can make the eggs again…”

4K rambled in a sense so unlike himself and HD realised he was nervous. “It’s fine.” HD quickly soothed him, watching the tension melt from the demon’s shoulders as he looked over to HD.

“Y-Yeah?”

“Yes. I like these.”

As though proving a point, HD took a raspberry of the plate to eat. Though while it did well to soothe 4K’s worries, he was also hungry. It was unusual to find out that tickling worked up his appetite, but he wasn’t complaining.

“That’s good.” 4K practically sighed. “But I’ll still need to get stuff for you. Food…” He gave a look down to HD, and poked his claw just slightly into his arm. “Some clothes as well. Though I certainly don’t mind you in these. Very easily accessible to your tickle spots.”

HD blushed again, quickly finishing the strawberry he was eating. “I can get myself clothes. I’ve got some in the town. And while I’m picking them up I can tell the townsfolk you won’t be an issue anymore.”

“Oh. You going to tell them the deal you made?”

It was teasing that HD should have expected by now, but his face was still lit up red. “I will tell them you won’t be an issue.” He insisted again, ignoring 4K’s laugh. “I’ll go later today.” His legs wobbled at the thought. “Mmm...maybe tomorrow.”

“I think you should rest for now. Surprised you’re still awake.” 4K’s voice went soft again, and HD felt himself melt. He tried to resist it, but it was hard when the demon also reached his hand over, slowly stroking through HD’s hair.

His claws just gently brushed against HD’s scalp and he settled further into the furs with a low hum.

“Do you need anything?” 4K’s voice whispered.

“Just this...please…” HD mumbled back, and shut his eyes. He let himself finally give in to the floaty, soft feeling in his chest, melting his cares away and finally pulling him into a comfortable nap.

[memberment]

GOOD MORNING EVERYONE

So the Trinitarians brain worm is back and Morning Glory is now longer and biting the dust as far as my focus goes.

But like, I genuinely want to talk to anyone who's invested in what's to come as far as part two goes. SO PLEASE. I IMPLORE THE FOUR OF YOU WHO PERPETUALLY TAKE NOTICE OF MY SCREAMS INTO THE VOID.

We're all aware that Trin is a time loop fic. That is confirmed.

BUT THE PROBLEM IS HOW I'M GOING ABOUT DOING THAT. AND I NEED INPUT FROM PEOPLE THAT ARE NOT ME AS FAR AS PLEASES AND SPARKLES GO, YES?

Because like sure I'm writing it and like fuck everything else, let me tell my story. But it's the how of it all like if I'm gonna throw another 200 give or take hours into this I would at least like one person to be having a wonderful time drinking and driving (I have since remembered this is not a common phrase, I do not mean this in a literal sense, it's an expression) with me right?

Part two is going to be 50 chapters, give or take. (Part one is about 37 for reference.)

So the plan for part 2 rn is (ROGUHLY):

(1-10) is the second timeline. There are a lot of importants and I cannot just glaze over it all more than that. But we're also working in a bit of a shorter time period than the original events of the story and introductions do not need to happen again, right?

(11-40)ish would be me running through the next timelines in a set up structure -> what changes -> the results of said changes and then inevitably what sends our looper backwards. It wouldn't be running through all the timelines but the more notable ones in kind of a four chapter structure, I am not fully sold on four, but rough estimate yk.

And then 41-50 would be the finale of part two. It's literally the last timeline in its glory and then the epilogue which kicks off part three.

COULD AT LEAST ONE OF Y'ALL SIT THROUGH THAT OR DO YOU GUYS HAVE ANY NOTES AT ALL BECAUSE LIKE

I personally kinda like it but if not a soul is reading this I am throwing myself on the curb with the rest of the garbage LMFAOOO.

I NEED THOUGHTS. OPINIONS. COMMENTS. CONCERNS. ANYTHING.

Anyways, I'm going to work. I have off tomorrow and I broke the ff investment seal for today so insanity and updates will be here tonight and homework will be tomorrow.

HOPE EVERYONE HAS A GOOD DAY <3

(9:30) I am literally falling asleep as I lazily write this angel based on Danse Macabre. Expect all of maybe one more update tonight if the tacos I am abt to receive don't wake me up LMFAO.

Also, I am almost saddened by not having something to post tm. Anyone want an early chapter of something that isn't Genesis/Desolation bc they're both on Monday?????? (I am feeling like a menace rn)

(10:19) tacos and the absolute yap session I just had did wake me up a bit. MAAAYBE might write some more. Idk I slept like three hours last night and went to work I'm kinda dead. But we're at 98.2k!!!!!!🥳

(11:06) okay we made it to 99.6k everything besides the flashback for 31 is done. I'm about to relax and watch something and figure out mechanics of some of this because god this series is A BEAST. Like, I still have six planned chapters left.

Pure insanity. I love it here. I hate it here.

Holy shit wait I just came to the realization that I started this fic exactly one month ago. I have belted out 99.6k for THIS FIC ALONE. (Moreso if we're including future shit that hasn't happened yet)

IN ONE MONTH.

THAT IS FUCKING CRAZY WHAT HTE FUCK LMFAOOOO

I may or may not be cooking we’ll find out in 6-26 business hours

(5:28) So I just had a very interesting past few business hours. I read a fic I've been waiting ever so patiently to finish. That's cool, right. I go for a walk at 4 in the morning because I'm insane. Fantastic. I get home at five and I'm like ohhhh well what do I do now it's not sleep time yet. Oh write I'm supposed to be drawing.

Nope I reread the epilogue of morning glory and realized Tweek's first address is for my morning glory and Craig's last sign off is your morning glory and now I'm ready to throw myself on the curb with the garbage as I sob. Someone call a trusted adult for me thanks.

[foundationsofdecay]

TDH x Sleep Token #2

Vital Vessels Vindicate is another song from The Dear Hunter that I think resonates a lot with some of Sleep Token's imagery and thematic elements, and not just because of the name of the track.

This post is heavily localized in terms of the lyrics I'm looking at, so while as always I do recommend it, this post will read fine whether you've listened to it or not.

I'm just going to focus on one chunk of lyrics this time, which is the extension of the final chorus, leading into the outro.

We fall beneath the sea of dreams And fail to breathe, until we resurface We fall beneath the sea of dreams And fail to breathe, until we awaken again

So... lots to unpack here. Let's talk about Vessel, death, and choking underwater.

We can see, right off the bat, how this mirrors some of the themes brought up time and time again in Sleep Token's first(!) trilogy of albums, most notably with TPWBYT but we can find this echoed in the other albums as well. Drawing from TPWBYT to start, consider these lines from the very first song on the album, Atlantic:

So flood me like Atlantic, bandage up the trenches, anything to get me to sleep [...] Don't wake me, Don't wake me, Don't wake me up

There can be some debate whether Vessel wants to go sleep or to Sleep, but in either case, yes, it's not just that he is being dragged under like he's being unwillingly swept out and down by a deceptive and powerful current. He wanted this, from the start. He begs to stay asleep, flooded and frozen but in a manner that is its own cold embrace. Whether you consider the trenches to be a metaphor for self-inflicted injuries, or look at it from a lore perspective, it's exactly this. Bandage up the trenches, I don't care, trap me underneath or keep me from falling deeper but just let me be, just let me sleep. I don't want to be here anymore.

Fallen into this sea of dreams, and even as it keeps him from caring to his body's most basic needs, he would rather "crumble like a temple" and "[break] into fractions" than ever wake up. Sleep is the one comfort he has, these dreams are the only thing that he can find any solace or joy in and he'd do anything to have it.

This, in and of itself, is like a self-directed death threat, to those around him trying to wake him up, but he'd "rather be six feet under than be lonely". What is death, really, in the face of these desires? Why would he ever choose to resurface and breathe again? After all, according to High Water, he's confident that he can "hold [his] breath forever". In this, we also have an alternate possibility; if Vessel were to simply hold his breath forever, perhaps he would be able to live forever, sustained by dreams and thus Sleep Itself. Death would be irrelevant, in that scenario, or at least it would feel that way. Effectively, though, they would be one and the same.

Here's the thing, though... even if he thinks he can, he doesn't hold his breath forever. This is depicted in Take Me Back To Eden:

We dive through crystal waters Perfect oceans But no one told me not to breathe And now the weightlessness recedes

There's an abrupt shift, here. He's taken too early of a breath, and perhaps this was a mistake on his part, but the dream is over now. The illusion of this endless embrace with Sleep has been thoroughly shattered. Now, he must decide if he is going to keep falling further and let the ocean swallow him whole, or if he will try to resurface and take a true breath of air, instead of inhaling this salt-loaded sea water where it will permeate his lungs and his stomach, so deeply entrenched that nothing can wash it out entirely. In fact, he's already taken one breath underwater, possibly several, by the time he does resurface (if you believe that he did at all). It's already begun.

There is, however, a glimmer of hope in all of this. In Rain, Vessel understands that situation, he finally can see the damage that was done both to and by him, and he desperately wants to be washed clean. The salt on his hands aren't the half of it, and he seems to realize that now. The remnants of this time aren't just on him, it's inside of him, practically part of his very being at this point, just as entwined with him as he is with Sleep.

It's true that he's been ordered to remain awake for the foreseeable future, that what happened in Atlantic can never happen again, but that's nothing compared to this. He can leave the sea, can leave that situation behind him, but the remnants and their effects still cling to him and continue to harm him.

He's tipping his head back, not just spreading his arms out but opening his mouth wide to drink it all in. Asking to be cleansed with pleasure, not just on the surface level of his skin, but completely saturated. This, he's saying, is what will truly heal him.

[maddiebiscuits]

i don't know how to phrase this any other way so i hope you don't find this rude or anything: you are (imo) a very skilled, very prolific art toaster. it's great quality artwork obviously, but your turnaround is wicked crazy fast to me. what does burnout look like for you? how do you manage to toast so many arts? what dark magics must you employ??

The hard truth is I worked in journalism for two years between 2010-2012 and customer service/hospitality starting at 16 years old in 2007 all throughout my life until 2022 and I don't want to go back to any of it now that I'm almost 33 - that's the main motivator to keep my freelance gig career doing art commissions going as long as possible. Fear and loathing of going back to that work environment keeps me focused.

In action...I'm not quite sure if I ever experience 'burn out'? I do experience art 'block' in that I can't think of anything to draw on my own or feel really unsatisfied with my work...so I just goof off with my canvas or do studies, but this doesn't interfere with doing commissions where I am told what to draw.

I just enjoy the physical act of drawing. Sometimes when I'm bored and restless and going for a walk doesn't help, I just draw more. When I was a kid I would just come home from school and draw crap between playing Gameboy/N64/Gamecube or browsing Elfwood/Newgrounds/DeviantART/Gaia Online, so it's literally just a habit now. If I don't draw for a long time I feel anxious and unwell. Somehow I just programmed my brain to think that art = leisure fun time, even if it's for work. I also tend to get into a "zone" sometimes and just put on video essays or music and a few hours later I'll have worked through some commission stuff.

I have three 'task lists' for my workflow:

A public trello board organized by work order types (N/SFW link)

A personal trello board organized by type/date in chronological order

A coloured tagging and folder system in my emails where I can just see the actual dates/timestamps of my last correspondence with a client so I know exactly who in my taskboard needs to be prioritized for their next WIP update

I hold myself to a standard of sending a client a WIP in stages:

rough draft (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

line art (1-14 business days)

revisions (1-5 business days)

final render (1-14 business days)

tweaks (1-2 business days)

So ideally, the client gets a finished commission in 3-6 weeks, so about 1-2 months. For larger projects I send more WIPs and the process is obviously longer. For simpler stuff like chibis, it's rarely a full six weeks. Over holidays I add an extra two weeks to my noted turn-around to account for IRL time off. On all my terms of service I have a maximum four months turn-around, essentially doubling the time I know my work flow is just in case there's some sort of medical or equipment emergency in my life that I need to account for that gives me a buffer (I also notify all clients)

Monday to Friday I wake up usually...late morning/early afternoon? I do anywhere from four to eight hours of artwork, broken up by walks, stretching, eating, cleaning, cooking, hanging out with my partner, etc. I look at my personal trello taskboard and emails to see what must be done and what can wait. I try to get at least 1-2 things done in a day though, be that sketches/line art/renders/revisions.

Right now I am looking at my email and task board, and the client with the highest wait time chronologically is someone who is waiting for their final render (sketch and line art already revised and done for them). Last email correspondence with them on the email says 9 days ago (so 7 business days, I'm supposed to take Sat-Sun off). Their order was paid in full and confirmed by me on November 9 and it is currently December 13, so I'm at about the 5 week mark (not accounting for delays in clients getting back to me of course) and I am very much On Course for my work load, no one has been without contact from me for 14 days or more so I'm pretty ahead of my game right now! I could take tomorrow off if I wanted, or only do 3-4 hours of work if I feel like it.

However the more work you finish and post, the more you show prospective clients your ability to finish orders and show your audience more art for engagement, so ideally I always like posting stuff when I can, it just creates a cycle of positive production and income.

[davidmariottecomics]

A Matter of Time

Surf's up, gang! 

Aloha from the beach! Okay, not really. I'm at home at time of writing, but I've made 2 whole trips out to the ocean this week, so I'm feeling beachy! Which, if you live near the water, is a pretty good way to feel in the summertime! 

In enjoying the season, I started thinking about the complex production timelines of comics, the ways in which some comics feel timely when they were created well ahead of the events they seem related to, and a book I read recently that had one time element that really didn't work for me. So let's take some time to talk about time! 

Story of Seasons 

Where I live in the U.S., summer means a certain thing. At this time of year, we're largely through the June Gloom and into hot, sunny days. The sun rises before I'm usually up, and I wake up early, and sets around 8 p.m. Most nights, in at least some parts of town, there are fireworks. Folks are having barbecues at home and along the beach--which people are flocking too. The college-aged kids only roll up after they've got up, and since they don't have school, you can usually not expect to see them before noon. And while the coastline's popping, closer to us, things are quieter exactly because school's out and the college campus has largely cleared out. And, specific to where we live, it means the trolleys and buses and some buildings and street signs, have assumed their summer wrap, promoting Peacock and Futurama's return and whatever else companies spent boodles of money on to promote ahead of and during San Diego Comic-Con. 

That's what the exterior of my life is like right now. Sweet, hot, summertime fun outdoors--though I spend most of my time in with the cats. And there's still a little bit of that in my work. I'm planning meeting up with folks at San Diego Comic-Con and, while I'm not particularly involved, I'm watching Riley Farmer get the Sonic the Hedgehog: Endless Summer one-shot buttoned up for next month. But most of what I'm working on is already well ahead, working actively on releases across the fall, and switching from planning to the first steps of production on our winter releases with spring 2024 already cresting the horizon. 

It's a funky dichotomy. If you go into a comic shop in the next two months, summer programs will be in full swing, from DC's big summer crossover event, Knight Terrors to IDW's Endless Summer, to Ultimate Invasion and the Hellfire Gala stuff Marvel's got going on, as well as Skybound's kicking off their Energon Universe, and whatever stores have left of the projects kicked off for Pride. 

But because you're seeing those things in stores, it means they're done and as I've talked about a bit before, generally comics have to be done a ways before their release. In an ideal situation, a comic is done between 7 and 10 weeks before the on-sale date. In a less ideal situation, a comic needs to be done at least 3 weeks before the on-sale date for most printers/distributors/final-order-cutoff reasons. But, in the former case, it means this next week, I'd be looking at what needs to go out right around mid-September--the first week of fall. And those are the things that'd be finishing. Let's say you'd need at least 10 weeks before that for finalizing the script; drawing, coloring, lettering, and doing any production on the issue; and getting it approved by all the relevant stakeholders. So the things entering that phase in the next week wouldn't actually see stores until the last week of November. 

In the books world, there are three spans, rather than the four seasons. Those are Spring (Feb-May), Summer (Jun-Aug), and Fall (Sept-Jan). And when you're working purely with single-issue comics, when you're in one span, you're generally working on titles for the next. When it comes to collections and OGNs, you can be working on stuff years ahead of time. (As an aside to all this, it's also super interesting that this is how things are sorted because it really speaks to publishing in the northern hemisphere... sorry to anyone in the southern hemisphere who is looking at IDW's Endless Summer and thinking "but it's winter!") 

I bring all this up as a reminder that comics take a long time to make and when there are comics have a particularly timely element, like a summer event, they're the result of months of work and planning to hit that specific date that falls in that seasonal span. And while tons of planning can go into something like a 5th week event (in months with 5 Wednesdays, some publishers will add extra titles on the 5th week so they have releases for that Wednesday without disrupting the regular monthly schedule of their titles), it also means sometimes something happens that seems very intentional, but is purely coincidental! 

Unintended Timeliness

Wendy Xu has a new book coming out next month, The Infinity Particle. Like all of her books, it looks very good. Straight from the copy, it "explores big questions through the eyes of an aspiring inventor and the lifelike AI she finds herself falling for." And in the build-up to release, advance reader copies have gone out to booksellers, librarians, and reviewers--the folks who should see the book early because it will help the book get more traction in stores, libraries, and more visibility with readers. But because of developments over the past year, it also is now very closely tied to a hot button issue: AI. Through the circumstances of the world around The Infinity Particle's release, early reviews and examination of it are inherently looping it into the larger conversation. Wendy's gone on the record about, as she said, "'AI' (derogatory)" and "AI-in-fiction (complimentary)."  But one of the things she's also been very clear about is that she's been working on this book since 2018 when we weren't talking about AI in the same way. 

I bring this all up because, when taken with my previous point about how long it often takes comics to be made, a lot of the timeliness that you may seen in a work can be coincidental. As another example, I've been asked a few times about whether the Metal Virus arc in IDW's Sonic the Hedgehog was in any way inspired by the early days of the Covid-19 pandemic. That arc is, in many ways, about a global pandemic. That arc, also, was pitched over a dinner at WonderCon 2018, where only the very first issue was on sale a week early and the series had not yet launched widely. The majority of it was written and in production before March 2020 when the U.S. really shut down in the early days of their response. So, no, the timelines don't really work out, it was just happenstance. 

And as a writer/artist/editor/etc, that's one of the things you have to keep in mind. I came from journalism, where timeliness was often an important part of storytelling. "New" is 3/4ths of "News." But outside of strips and editorial/political cartoons, it is much harder to incorporate true timeliness to your comics work. So, often, the default is to look for timelessness--something that isn't pegged to a specific event or set of circumstances, but that can be appreciated whenever because it speaks to something larger. Timelessness doesn't need to be forward-looking necessarily. It can be reacting to or interpreting long-standing history. But the benefit of trying to tell a story that always feels relevant, even if the cultural context around it may change the reader's interpretation from your intention (and there's a longer conversation to be had about interpretation vs. intention), is it usually doesn't feel immediately aged. 

The flip side of things having an unexpected timeliness is when you try to execute something to be timely, but in the interim of writing to execution or just through the flow of time, it just isn't anymore. Somewhat recently, Becca rediscovered "Boyfriend" by Big Time Rush. Obviously, this song is like 13 years old anyway, but boy howdy does the song feel it's age when they call out 2008 Best Picture winner, Slumdog Millionaire. It's not to say you can't or shouldn't put things in the context of the time they're written in, just that being considerate of it is probably to your benefit because specific cultural and contextual touchpoints should feel additive to the work and the intention, not haphazard as a way of showing modernity. (Two quick asides to this: 1. If you don't like "Boyfriend" by BTR musically, you do need to watch the video because it is wild. However, maybe "Boyfriend" by Dove Cameron will be more to your tastes and is incredibly funny if you listen to it as a response to the BTR song. 2. Cultural references aren't the only things that can feel dated or be misused and make your comic worse--see every time AAVE is misused in comics and the creators are immediately dunked on.)

A Timeless Romance... And Leia Organa

Last bit for today, building off what we were just talking about. I recently read Neon Gods by Katee Roberts. It's a smutty retelling of Hades/Persephone set in modern times. (I'm still figuring out some upcoming blogs, but certainly the aforementioned AI and also why SO MANY WORKS are gravitating to Hades/Persephone are on the shortlist). Overall, I liked it. Like many first books in a series, I hear it picks up in later volumes. There's a lot to say about it, but one thing that really stuck out to me was while I understand that it is set in modern day, anytime it made a specific modern reference, it really threw me off. 

Throughout the book, people make calls on their smart phones and have video conferences and there are guns and cars and skyscrapers and other hallmarks of modernity. And it is totally fine. It sets the scene and makes sense for the story being told. But every once in a while--I remember it happening 3 or 4 times--something specific gets called out and it feels weird. One of those times being a reference to the gold bikini Leia wears in Return of the Jedi. It's the sort of touchstone that should feel innocuous. Most folks know it, even if they don't super know Star Wars. But when it happens as like a singular pop culture reference in a work (the other specific callouts I remember feeling odd were a reference to UC Berkley and a brand-name medicine), it weirdly works against the modernity because it feels too concrete in a world of otherwise abstract modern life. It is so solid, so recognizable, that it almost begs the question of why there aren't more references throughout and it vaguely asks questions of the world and of the characters that aren't actually consequential to the plot--or, perhaps, that are consequential to a larger overarching plot that isn't really investigated in depth in the first book. Either way, it was just a little moment that in my reading created a bump that I'm remembering a week and a half later better than some of the actual plot elements or hot smutty scenes, which probably is not the intent of that otherwise kinda throwaway line. 

FRIENDS! 

Okay, shifting away from all that for a moment, I wanna talk about my many cool friends! Who have a new page on my website! Inspired by the webrings of old, I wanted to do a little something to help folks who find their way over to my site find their way over to the sites of other cool folks who are making comics! Right now, you'll notice a lot of family and people who work on Sonic in addition to a few other friends, but always happy to add folks that I've worked with or know and like who might want a bit more web traffic flowing their way. 

While we're on the topic, I know a number of former IDW folks are still looking for work. You'll find links to their LinkedIns there and if you have any opportunities that might be a good fit, please reach out! Also specific shout-out to Yu & Me Books, who could use some help at the moment. 

Patreon!

I'm now on Patreon sharing, wouldja believe, this very blog! As well as some other cool stuff that I've got planned! If you've been enjoying the blog for a while and want a new way to read or support it with a small tip, the Patreon might be for you. I'm also going to be doing Patreon-exclusive blogs that show off stuff like scripts and pitching materials that I can share, WIPs of some of my personal projects, some weird video/audio/streaming content at certain levels, and have a somewhat ambitious group funding goal where subscribers to my top tier mostly help me fund making more short comics by being able to pay cool artists I know! 

Do you not want to read this pitch for my Patreon? Good news: If you subscribe to it, this is cut out from the blog! Ooo aah! 

What I enjoyed this week: Blank Check (Podcast), Craig of the Creek (Cartoon), Dungeons & Daddies (Podcast), Yu-Gi-Oh: Duel Links (Video game), My Adventures with Superman (Cartoon), the beach, Girly Drinks by Mallory O'Meara (Book), the aforementioned Neon Gods (okay, that was last week, but y'know), Stab that Cake (TV show), the only real social media, Clapback, Cruel Summer (TV show), Crime Scene Kitchen (TV show), "Shy Boy" by Carly Rae Jepsen (my queen), the music video for "Water Slide" by Janelle Monae (really loving the aesthetics of their new stuff), Starship Troopers (Movie), thinking about The Love Witch (due for a rewatch). 

New Releases this week (7/5/2023): Sonic the Hedgehog #62 (Editor) Brynmore #1 (Editor) - Actually came out in my last gap week, but go grab it! 

New Releases next week (7/12/2023): Off week for me! Buy something else groovy!

Final Order Cut-Off next week (7/10/2023 - AKA Preorder Deadline) Brynmore #2 (Editor) Godzilla: War for Humanity #1 (Editor)

Announcements:

I'll be at San Diego Comic-Con! My schedule's gotten pretty full, but if you're going to be there, do reach out and let me know. I'll at least try to say hi! IDW announced our panels for the year and I'll see you at Sonic the Hedgehog: Speeding to the 900th Adventure on Sunday at 10, room 25ABC! 

Side note, because con is coming, I may or may not have an update the week of SDCC itself! And Becca's Twitch streams will be off that week, but they'll be streaming throughout the rest of the month. Just anticipate Tuesday streams, rather than Wednesdays, because of some scheduling conflicts. Just through July. 

Oh! And a reminder I am on Bluesky, but don't expect to see me on Threads! That service seems lousy! 

Pic of the Week:

Becca and I at the beach! Beach stuff including some cool shells and part of a crustacean's shell! 

[hevs-dreamworld]

Iris:

“Hmm, if I had to explain my day in the life. Before I moved in with Nazo and Seelkadoom, I usually got up at around 2-3PM and start doing my skincare and hair. Depending on the day, I’d also use that time to get any shedding scales off my face, arms, and tail. Once done I would get ready for anything I had planned that day. If it’s a day off, I’d go hang around the city and get some tea at my favorite cafe. I can’t say where, because I don’t know who’s around me at the moment. Either that or I’d hang around my friends, or go visit people at the homeless shelters and orphanages. The little ones at the orphanage always have amazing ideas for their home. I just hope I can give enough support to where they can grow up healthy and let their dreams become reality.”

“If it’s a work night? I’d get dressed up for work, let my makeup artist do my makeup as I do vocal warm-ups, and then go perform. Afterwards I go visit with my regulars and then go through all the gifts with my boss, clock out, and go home at around 6:00AM. Get home at around 7-8:00AM, do my skincare, then go to sleep. My skincare schedule fluctuates, but I try not to skip a day.”

“With Nazo and Seelkadoom, it’s pretty much the same, but I wake up later than the other two, and Seelkadoom goes to work with me since we have a similar schedule. However, I noticed that me and the whole group of villains have gotten closer the past couple of months.. I’m glad they’re starting to trust me at least a little bit!”

Nazo:

“I usually get up pretty early to pick up Iris and seelkadoom. They both get off work at around 7:00AM. Whenever Iris goes to bed, me and seelka tend to train for a couple of hours at our gymnasium. It’s small, but it’s proofed to the maximum possible standard for our levels of power. It’s also been recently sound proofed since we’re going to be hosting a lot of events this year. Once done with training and seelka goes to bed, I get into my workings. Get in contact with anyone who sends me out a contract to help with anyone particularly dangerous, check on the event venues I have reserved for the year, quick check on the market to see what’s happening, and then I go do my daily care. If I don’t have any emergency contracts, I tend to take my time and enjoy a glass of tea and read some books about history. If I have no contracts that day, then I spend it with seelka and the others. Otherwise I spend a lot of time reading, drawing, writing, anything to really fill in the time. Although, recently me and seelkadoom have noticed that we’ve been hanging around Iris a lot. Honestly. I’ve been going out a lot more because of her, and it’s helped me get to know her more as a person than just a guest. It feels nice, knowing she’s warming up to us. I mean, even with the weird sleep schedules, we always find a way to spend time together, and I can appreciate that.”

Seelkadoom:

“Much like Iris, I wake up pretty late in the afternoon and do my daily tasks. Chores, checking emails from the office, and checking the work group chat and see what happened when me and Iris are out. I’m telling you, stuff gets quite spicy when we’re not there. Anyways, I usually then get dressed and head out to whatever errands needed to be run. I usually do this with Nazo, but sometimes Iris tags along to get a look at the upper city she hasn’t seen yet. Don’t get me wrong, the lower city is gorgeous, it’s arguably prettier and safer than the upper city. However, the upper city is usually reserved for the ultra wealthy, but it’s also the busiest part of the city due to a lot of the shopping being there. So, it gives her an excuse to explore while we do errands! Once that’s done, I get ready for work and Me and Iris head to the casino!”

——————————

@hunniegl4zed @thebreadmeower @sonic-au-collision

for the characters!! how would u describe ur day to day life??

First question for the characters!!

[jodilin65]

THURSDAY, NOVEMBER 29, 1990 I haven’t written in a while which I sometimes don’t. Last thing I see I wrote about was getting my hair trimmed. Linda trimmed my bangs and my top layer. My top layer was and still is pretty much fried with split ends. I have split ends everywhere. She was shocked at the weight I lost and how long my hair’s gotten. I haven’t seen her in 3 years or so. Linda hasn’t seen me at my skinniest though since I’ve gained 8 pounds. Funny thing is that it looks like I gained double, like 16 pounds. Of course, that’s cuz I’m so short. I no longer despise being short as I’ve realized the many advantages of being short as I’ve gotten older.

Andy’s here now asleep. He came over two nights ago, too. We made some calls this time. Last night we played Crazy 8’s which we haven’t done since we were kids at the beach. Also, we played the piano.

I’ll write later as I’m exhausted. For the last two months or so I’ve been sleeping at night, but I was up all night cuz I slept too many hours yesterday.

WEDNESDAY, NOVEMBER 14, 1990 I am waiting to have my hair trimmed at Hair Performance by Linda. My top layer is incredibly fried. Also, I need my bangs trimmed.

Brenda’s very sick today so I’m going to be going to Martha by bus and it is incredibly freezing out!

SUNDAY, NOVEMBER 11, 1990 Well, I’m not going to be sleeping for a hell of a long time. I never got up yesterday till 9pm. I had woken up in the early afternoon but felt like shit so I went back to sleep. Not too much has happened since I last wrote. I’ve done some pretty nice drawings, been pissed at Russ cuz he’s got the heat off from 11pm–6am, been a little depressed cooped up at home and wanting to sing. Lastly, been frustrated and scared over my bronchitis.

TUESDAY, NOVEMBER 6, 1990 I fell asleep shortly after 11 PM, after seeing the Tai Babilonia story, then at 1:45, I woke up for no reason at all. At least I didn’t wake up cuz of an asthma attack like I did yesterday morning and several previous mornings. I feel much better now and for the last 5 days, I’ve had 4-6 ciggies.

Soon I’m going to try to go back to sleep so I can join Andy on job-hunting trips. Not a job for me, for him of course, but it’ll get me out of the apt.

I’d like to sleep with Shadow, but he keeps waking me up.

I had a great visit with Tammy and the kids, and also a great day with Brenda. Sarah’s adorable and she’s got so much hair on her head. Everyone in the family was born with lots of hair.

John came over for a half-hour tonight and met Brenda and Bill.

Oh, I wish I knew my test scores! I want so badly to go to the academy. I suppose, though, I won’t be going for whatever reason cuz I want to go badly. Of course, that is until I can get anything going musically.

FRIDAY, NOVEMBER 2, 1990 Yesterday was awful. I was so pissed at Russ. For the last 5 mornings, during the wee hours of the morning, it was freezing. Later on between 7:00-11:00, it would turn into a sauna. I woke up for two reasons. One was the fucking radiator in the kitchen would clank so loud, you could probably hear it downtown. The other is that I’d have major asthma attacks due to it. It would get so hot in here that my windows would be wet. I yelled on Russ’s machine, asking what it’s gonna take for the heat to be evened out and he stopped up to adjust the thermostat. If this happens continuously, I’ll make partial rent payments and if he fights it he’ll wish partial rent problems were the only problems he’s had with me. Otherwise, he’s a nice guy and the best landlord I’ve ever had. He doesn’t do this deliberately, he just has no brains when it comes to heating.

Today, later on, I’m definitely gonna get the fuck outa this apartment. Where to, I do not know, but I’ve got to get out.

[osarina]

ᡣ𐭩 COMING DOWN

FEATURING: dazai osamu

SUMMARY: something is up. you know it. dazai is being far too romantic and you're absolutely not buying the excuses he keeps giving you. it's whatever, you think, you'll enjoy the fancy dinner and fancier hotel, even with the imminent threat of the looming bomb about to drop. {wordcount: 13.4k; fem!reader, romance}

AUTHOR'S NOTES: here is part 4!!! i can't believe we're already so close to the end of this one, i'm so excited for side b you guys have no idea, i'm almost done writing part 4 of side b and then part 5 is going to be a beast in itself, PUN INTENDED. i'm going to be posting a poll a bit later on that i'll need your guys' opinion on concerning part 4 of side b, so please keep an eye out for that!

IMPORTANT NOTE FOR 17 & UNDER FOLLOWING THE SERIES: i was conflicted as to how to go about this because as per tags on masterlist, there was always going to be smut in this series. i'm not going to ask y'all to not interact/read a whole 13.4k chapter just because there's like 2-3k words of smut, but i am going to say here the smut is in the FOURTH scene. there is very little, if any, plot development in the smut itself, so i ask you guys to respectfully scroll past it. i'll make the sentence when the smut starts red like this so you know that's when it starts, and then you can continue reading at the next divider. thank you for understanding! i'll summarize the little plot development in the smut at the end of the chapter for you guys.

SMUT WARNINGS: mostly vanilla-ish, fingering, dazai has a dirtyyy mouth, a bit of edging, mentions of f!masturbation, pussy drunk!dazai - he's a bit pathetic HAHAH, unprotected sex. i think that's all, if i'm missing anything please let me know!

SEE: BADLANDS SERIES MASTERLIST READ: UNREAL UNEARTH SIDE B

You’re a bit alarmed when you wake up and realize that Dazai is nowhere to be found. Usually, you wake up to the warmth of his arm draped over your body, his tall and lithe form curled around you and his face buried in your hair. It’s a process trying to get out of bed, because even in his sleep he clings to you tighter whenever you try to free yourself, and he always lets out muffled noises of complaint and displeasure at the slightest disruption to his sleep. 

Normally, the man wakes up hours after you—and even then, you still have to drag him out of bed so he’s not abysmally late to work—so this is… strange to say the least. He’s gotten better the past few weeks, sometimes he wakes up early to join you at the beach to watch the sunrise and usually it’s a bit easier to get him out of bed even when he wants to sleep in, but he never wakes up before you unless he just doesn’t sleep, but you know that he slept last night because he fell asleep while you were finishing up some emails to prospective employers for your summer job. 

You’re suspicious when you slip out of bed and stretch, curious to figure out what he’s doing—you wonder if he had to get up early to get to the Agency for a mission, but you’re pretty sure Dazai would rather face a raging Kunikida and death by fire than wake up before dawn for work. Still dressed in your night clothes, you make your way out of your bedroom and into the main room of your apartment.

He’s standing there in your kitchen, brows furrowed and already dressed in black slacks and a button up and tie—not his typical attire, you can’t help but note, and your suspicion grows. He looks handsome though, and you would spend a few moments just admiring him but you don’t like the way he’s staring at your stove so you decide to speak up before he can do something destructive.

“Dazai,” you call his name, still half-asleep, watching as his eyes shoot open as he turns to face you. “What’re you doing up so early?”

Dazai doesn’t even respond. Instead, he snatches something from the counter and makes his way over to you—you draw back a bit, confused and increasingly more alarmed but too out of it to effectively dodge his rapid approach, and you part your lips to ask him what the hell he’s doing and why he’s acting so weird but he only takes the opportunity to shove an unwrapped protein bar into your mouth. You choke a bit in surprise, trying to chew on the bar, but you’re reeling as he presses his hands to your back and pushes you back into the bedroom. 

You’re barely registering what’s happening as you finally take a bite of the protein bar and remove it from your mouth—watching as he strips you of your pajama top and shorts in abject horror. You want to ask him what the fuck he’s doing but you’re still trying to chew through the thick bar, almost gagging on it. 

You watch, standing there in your panties, braless and topless—you want to complain because you’re cold but you’re more occupied with watching Dazai Osamu, a man clearly on some sort of mission as he snatches the dress hanging on your closet door. You’re certain that you hadn’t left it there, in fact you don’t even remember picking it up from the dry-cleaners, so he must’ve picked it up on his way home from work yesterday and you just didn’t notice when you were focused on finishing up your emails.

“Up,” he says, motioning for you to raise your arms and you just stare at him in disbelief, absently raising your arms. 

Without hesitation, he slides the dress over your body, adjusting it so that it’s laying against you nicely—and then he shifts to stand behind you, zipping it up. Usually, he would linger for a bit, press a few kisses to the crook of your neck and wrap his arms around your waist, but this time he zips it up and darts back off to your closet, where he’s evidently also laid out a pair of heels for you.

He snatches them up and kneels in front of you, grabbing your ankle to lift your leg and slip your heel on—he fastens the buckle, and this time he does linger a bit, dipping his head down to press a chaste kiss against your ankle before shuffling over a bit to do the same for your other foot. 

“Dazai, what is going on?” you ask, voice riddled with disbelief and confusion as you stare at him, taking another bite of the protein bar he’d given to you.

“I’m taking you somewhere,” he says, as if that isn’t obvious enough.

“You’re dressing me.”

“You’re taking too long.”

“You didn’t even give me a chance,” you protest, scowling down at Dazai, but he only looks up at you.

He props his chin on your abdomen as he looks up at you, a soft expression on his face. 

“Sweet bella,” he sighs dreamily, “not even the millions of stars in the sky can compare to how brilliantly you shine. The most beautiful being I’ve ever had the fortune of laying my eyes upon. I can’t believe you’re mine.”

You roll your eyes—no matter how often Dazai gets all poetic and theatrical, it never fails to fluster you, but you know he’s only trying to dodge your interrogation this time. You tug a lock of his hair and he hums softly, turning his head to kiss your palm before leaning into your touch. 

“I need to do my hair and makeup,” you tell him. “Where are we even going?” 

Dazai leaps to his feet instantly. “Nope!” he says loudly, and your expression twists in irritation, watching as he bounds over to your desk, grabbing… your make-up bag? “Do your makeup and hair when I get to the office, I have to stop there for a few minutes before we leave. I put everything together for you.”

“Where are we going?” you repeat as you try to reach for your makeup bag but Dazai holds it above his head so that you can’t get to it. You squint and you have half a mind to jump up on him to try to pull his arm down but from the way his eyes are glittering, you have a feeling that he wants and expects exactly that.

So instead, you let out a pointed sigh and turn your head away. Dazai pouts, but you figure either way it was a losing decision for you because his pout disappears in an instant as he grabs your hand and drags you out of the bedroom. 

You’re all but stumbling after him, trying to keep up with him in the dark heels he’d dressed you in, and Dazai is merciless, not slowing down for even a second until he skids to a stop at your door, grabbing the keys to your car that you left hanging next to your jacket. 

He turns to you, giving you an expression that’s more fitting of a wet dog than a human being, not wanting to give up the keys. You close your eyes and sigh. 

“Answer my question,” you finally say.

“I can’t,” Dazai complains, “it’s a surprise.”

“Dazai,” you warn, voice low. 

“It’s a surprise,” Dazai repeats instead, frowning slightly as he looks down at you, and you can see the earnestness in his eyes as he looks down at you, lacing your fingers together as he squeezes your hand gently, as if begging you to not make him ruin it.

Again, you sigh. 

“Do not get into another accident, Dazai.”

His face lights up. 

You regret everything.

“Dazai, I thought you were-”

“Shhhhhh!”

You’re a bit amused as Yosano Akiko holds up her hands in mock surrender from where she’s lounging at one of the booths in the cafe beneath the Agency. Dazai looks thoroughly distressed, waving his own hands and panicking at Yosano almost giving up his top secret plans. 

“I’ll be back down in a few minutes,” he says to you before turning to squint at Yosano. “Don’t say anything.”

“I won’t,” Yosano promises, holding her hand to chest as if to convey her honor. 

Dazai’s eyes narrow a bit more, as if he doesn’t trust her, but then he glances at the clock and flees up the steps to the Agency without another word.

As soon as you hear the door slam upstairs, signaling that Dazai entered the Agency, you make your way over to where the other woman is sitting, propping up your phone against the wall to use as a mirror before unzipping your makeup bag. Impressively, Dazai managed to make sure he got all of your everyday makeup and even the ones you keep to the side for special occasions, you hum a bit in appreciation before getting started. 

“Can you give me a hint?” you ask, eyes flickering up to Yosano, who’s studying you with a fond expression as you start shifting through your makeup bag, looking for a particular concealer.

Yosano’s lips curve up into a smile. “He’s actually been working the past two weeks to make sure Kunikida can’t complain about him taking time off for this—I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so excited for something.”

Your chest feels a bit warm, a smile itching at the corner of your lips as you pause from where you’re applying your makeup. “Yeah?” you ask, eyes lingering on her for a bit longer before you go back to looking back down at your phone to continue doing your makeup.

Yosano lets out a quiet noise of agreement. “Honestly,” she says quietly, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him as happy in general as he’s been the past two months, so thank you. I’m glad he has you.���

You falter a bit, glancing up at Yosano as you recall Atsushi’s words from back when Dazai got shot: “I’m really glad that Dazai-san has you. He’s been a lot happier the past few weeks.”

“You think so?” you ask softly, twirling your mascara wand in hand as you look down at the table. 

You wonder what exactly Dazai was like if now two of his coworkers are mentioning how much better he’s been since meeting you. You have your own suspicions, just from knowing how the two of you met (twice) on top of his flippant attitude regarding suicide, but that’s all you have: suspicions.

“Know so,” Yosano corrects absently, taking a sip of her coffee mug—although you can’t help but notice that it doesn’t look like coffee in there. She sighs, tilting her head back against the booth. “He’s good. He doesn’t believe it himself—probably never will—but he is. He deserves this… I doubt he’ll ever believe that either though. Be good to him.”

“You guys are all really close, aren’t you?” you note, half to yourself.

“Like family,” Yosano confirms with a grin and then pauses before saying, “... we are family.”

You smile a bit wistfully. “I’m almost jealous,” you admit, “but it makes me happy to hear that he has you guys. Sometimes he just seems so…”

Lonely, you finish quietly. 

On nights where he can’t sleep and you happen to wake up, you sometimes find him staring out the window just like you did that first night you met. He always looks lost and alone—he tries to hide it when he notices that you’re up too, masking it with a smile that never reaches his eyes. You think his mind haunts him a lot more than he lets on—well, you know it does, you remember how you met him and you remember his chilling, offhand comments, but you think it haunts him even more than that, to the point that no matter how many people care for him, it’ll never allow him to see it.

“Yeah,” Yosano agrees quietly, you don’t have to finish what you’re trying to say for her to know what you’re getting at. She lightens up after a moment though. “Make him bring you around more, you’ll be part of our ragtag little family in no time.”

You smile brightly. “I think Dazai would have a heart attack—did you see him at the event last month?” 

Yosano’s smile is sharp and dangerous. “That’s the point.”

Laughing loudly, you nearly mess up your mascara, and as you open your lips to respond, you pause when you catch sight of a familiar, suspicious face poking around the corner of the doorframe leading up to the Agency. As soon as you catch sight of him, he tries to disappear and pretend that he isn’t there. 

Your eyes narrow. “I saw you, Dazai,” you say loudly and Yosano whirls around to look over the booth just as Dazai reluctantly steps out into view.

“Dazai, you damn creep, were you eavesdropping?” Yosano accuses, throwing a stray teaspoon in his direction. 

“Yosano-sensei,” Dazai complains, “can you blame me? I see my two favorite women laughing, of course I’m going to be curious.” 

You snort as you finish up with applying your lipgloss—the strawberry one that Dazai loves so much that you’ve caught him trying lick the wand when you’re not looking. Rising to your feet, you put your makeup bag back together before looking back over at Dazai, who finally made his way over to the table. 

There’s a soft, adoring look in his eyes as he looks down at you; you think that it’s a bit unwarranted because you’re pretty sure your makeup must look terrible from how quickly and half-assed you'd done it, but if you didn’t know any better, you’d think Dazai was looking at someone glammed up for the red carpet. 

It almost makes you feel a bit flustered. 

“You look beautiful,” he says quietly, reaching up to tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

“I haven’t even had a chance to brush my hair yet,” you counter, looking up at him through your lashes with a half-smile.

“And you’re beautiful still,” he teases softly, leaning down to press his lips to yours in a chaste, deceptively innocent kiss.

“God, you two are gross, get a room,” Yosano grumbles, throwing a packet of sugar at the side of Dazai’s head. 

Dazai tosses Yosano a wink. “Oh, we will,” he leers and Yosano dramatically gags.

You smile lightly, but then your mind starts to drift because you’ve been with Dazai for two months now and the two of you have hardly gotten further than heavy petting and kissing. Not for a lack of trying, and it’s kind of become a borderline taboo subject between the two of you, because he always stops it before it can get too far. You don’t know why, and you’re afraid to ask because you’re beginning to get anxious that there’s something wrong with you because why else would he constantly pull away whenever things start to heat up between the two of you? You know damn well the man isn’t a saint from what you’ve heard from his coworkers and how grateful they were that you reigned in his “womanizing” tendencies, so why are you different? It’s been two months, why won’t he touch you? 

Your thoughts start to spiral, as they always do when you think too hard on the topic. You can feel him give you a concerned look but you only turn to Yosano, bidding her goodbye as Dazai leads you out of the cafe and the woman raises her arm in a lazy wave in response. Once you guys are out the door, you turn to Dazai before he can interrogate you on what’s wrong. 

“Where are we going now?” you ask, nudging your shoulder into Dazai’s side as the two of you make your way back to your car. Dazai slings an arm around you, pulling you into his side and dipping his head down to kiss the top of your head. 

You feel his lips curl up into a dangerous smile against your hair. “The train station.” 

You turn your head to look up at him as soon as the words register, eyes a bit wide. “The train station? Where are we taking a train to?” 

“Mhm,” he agrees, not fully answering your question, eyes glimmering as his arm tightens around you, pulling you closer into him. “We’re spending a night away from here.” 

“I didn’t pack anything,” you say, a bit panicked. “Daz-”

“I packed a change of clothes and pajamas,” Dazai grins. “Relax, I’ve got you, bella. Don’t you trust me?” 

“Of course, I trust you,” you scoff immediately, noting the way his grip around you falters a bit as soon as the words leave your mouth. “But I also know you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Dazai laments. “You hate me.”

You roll your eyes. “I definitely don’t hate you, Dazai,” you murmur, resting the side of your head against his bicep for a moment—three words threaten to burst from your lips, you swallow them.

As if Dazai can sense the sudden change in mood, he leans down to kiss the top of your head again—this time softer, and he lingers longer. As he does so, he reaches to swing open the passenger door to your car.

“Shall we?”

Kyoto. 

He brought you to Kyoto. You’ve never actually been despite having wanted to visit for years, too busy with college and then preparing for graduate school. Dazai has spent the entire day bringing you from place to place, letting you play the gawking tourist as he drags you everywhere from the botanical garden to the shrines and temples places throughout the city. He’s spent the entire day embarrassing you, one way or another, by announcing in public that his ‘darling wife is pregnant!’ so that you’re flooded with older women cooing over you and making loud and poetic proclamations of love and distress in Nishiki Market, pretending to be a scorned lover bemoaning the cruelty of the woman he loves. 

You can’t even find it in yourself to be angry about it, because you remember Yosano’s words about how excited he’s been and you can see the way his eyes shine brightly whenever he sees the dread rise to your face as soon as you realize he’s about to do something shameful. 

Now, the two of you are sitting in a rooftop restaurant of a luxury resort that you know damn well neither of you can afford, and you’re not even sure how Dazai had managed to book a reservation at it—you’re not even sure if he had booked a reservation at it. The whole situation is honestly a bit weird. The hostess seemed to have recognized Dazai’s name as soon as he gave it to her, rushing to seat him at the best table in the restaurant, and once you’d been seated, the owner had come over to greet Dazai. 

You wonder if Dazai secretly comes from old money, generational wealth—you think if he does, you might kill him, because you can’t even count the number of times you’ve had to spot the asshole for coffees and snacks. If he was sitting on piles of money the whole time? You swear that you’ll rip into him.

You tried to ask him about it already, but he waved off the question with a non-answer and a charming smile that doesn't quite work on you anymore. When you tried to press, you got the same dismissal, so with much restraint you finally let it rest so you could enjoy your dinner. 

“Are you going to tell me what the occasion is now?” you finally ask, taking a sip of the after-dinner martini you’d ordered as you watch Dazai carefully. 

“We’re celebrating,” Dazai grins, reaching across the table to take your hand into his; he brings yours to his lips, kissing your knuckles before laying both of your hands over the table. 

“Celebrating what, exactly?” you tease, tilting your head to the side as your fingers lace through his—he’s gotten a lot more touchy the past few days, you’ve noticed

“You finished your finals, obviously,” Dazai says, as if it were obvious, “I can’t believe you didn’t figure it out yourself.”

Your fingers tighten around his hand as you let out a puff of laughter. “Really?” you ask a bit doubtfully. “All of this because I finished finals?” 

“My sweet belladonna thinks I’m a liar,” Dazai complains, head falling back dramatically. “You’ve been so stressed the past few weeks, I wanted to do something nice for you.”

 Although you can’t help but notice that his fingers tense against yours, as if he’s not telling the full truth, you decide to leave it and press later, instead smiling softly and squeezing his hand.

“Oh yeah? You could’ve just brought me out to dinner back home, spend the night at some cheap hotel that we can actually afford,” you snort, looking around again at the extravagant rooftop restaurant the two of you are eating at. With the dim, romantic lighting and luxurious furnishing, you think this might be the fanciest place you’ve ever been. “... How are we going to afford this, Dazai?” 

“When are you going to start calling me Osamu?” Dazai pouts as if to try to avoid the question. 

You ignore the way warmth bubbles at your chest, instead correcting, “How are we going to afford this, Osamu?” 

His name tastes frighteningly familiar on your tongue—as if you’ve said it a million times before—and you can see from the way that his eyelashes flutter it seems to have affected him just as much as you.

“You won’t tell me what you and Yosano were laughing about, so obviously I’m not gonna tell you about this,” Dazai teases, thumb circling the back of your hand. You roll your eyes, so he continues with, “Don’t worry your pretty little head about it, that’s for me to handle”

“That’s exactly what I’m worried about,” you drawl with a side smile. “Unless you’ve been hiding some secret wealth from me—which if you have, we’re going to have serious problems, I’ve paid for you too many times for that—we’re going to be washing dishes at this place for the rest of our lives.”

“You have no faith.” Dazai pushes his bottom lip out even further. “You said you trust me.”

“I do trust you,” you say and you can see from the way he squints that he knows there’s about to be a ‘but’, “but-”

“Dazai-sama.” The waiter that has been diligently tending to the two of you bows deeply to Dazai—you give Dazai a pointed look, as if saying, see!, but he only winks at you. “Is there anything else that you and your fiancée need? Or shall I get the two of you the bill?”

Fiancée, you think to yourself a bit surprised, shooting Dazai another sharp look, noting how his cheeks flushed a bit after hearing how the waiter addressed you.

“Charge it onto the usual card,” Dazai tells the waiter, who nods and bows again before rushing off.

You stare at Dazai as soon as the man leaves. “Dazai Osamu, who are you?” you ask, a bit jokingly, a bit not jokingly because he really has thrown you for a complete 180 with this whole extravagant date. 

His smile falters, as if you asked a question that he doesn’t want to answer, but you think he was stupid to bring you on this date if he didn’t want you asking questions about it. You wish that you had some idea of what the answer might be but you don’t, and it worries you a bit, because there’s clearly something he’s hiding from you and he’s anxious about how you’re going to take it.

“Let’s get out of here,” he says quietly, holding his arm out to you. 

You sigh a bit as you rise to your feet after finishing your drink, looping your arm into his. He tugs you a bit closer, and you watch, hawk-eyed, as the waiters of the restaurant nod their head in respect to Dazai and the owner himself bids him a brief goodbye and a ‘it was good seeing you again, Dazai-sama’ before the two of you reach the elevator leading back down into the hotel.

As soon as you’re within the closed doors, Dazai turns to you, bringing his hand up to brush his knuckles against your cheekbone. You lean into his touch, looking up at him, eyes wide and a bit imploring, asking him to explain without verbally voicing the words. 

He sighs. “I came here a lot for my previous job, before I joined the Agency,” he explains quietly. “We brought… associates here a lot for business.”

“You’re going to charge our date and stay here on your old boss’s card,” you ask, a bit horrified at the prospect, not even thinking to ask what his previous job might be in your panic. “Daz-Osamu, are you crazy?”

“Trust me,” Dazai grins as he says the two words you’ve been hearing all night from him. “He won’t do anything about it.”

The words sound a bit ominous, you don’t really know how to take them, so instead you shake your head and rest the side of your head against his bicep as you wait for the elevator to open up on your floor—a penthouse suite, naturally, one that you’re sure must cost at least one to two hundred thousand yen a night. 

After a few moments, you ask quietly, “What was your previous job?” 

Dazai stiffens beneath your touch. You glance up, watching as his face closes off and his throat spasms beneath the bandages covering it. You can feel his fingers dig a bit deeper into your hip from where his hand had been idly resting against you.

He doesn’t want to tell you, you realize—you don’t know why he doesn’t want to tell you, you know deep down that it must be something that he’s ashamed of, or it’s something he thinks would make you think differently of him. A part of you wants to assure him that nothing would change how you care for him, but Yosano’s words still ring through your head: “he doesn’t believe it himself—probably never will.”

So instead, you hook your arms around his waist loosely, leaning up on your tiptoes to press your lips underneath his jaw.

“It’s okay,” you say quietly, resting your head on his chest and letting your eyes slide shut. “You don’t have to tell me now, I hope one day you feel ready to share it with me.” 

You hear Dazai let out a breath from above you. “I don’t understand why you’re so patient with me,” he murmurs, leaning his head down to rest his forehead on the top of your head. “It doesn’t make sense.”

A soft laugh escapes your lips. “Because I care about you, Osamu. A lot. Nothing you tell me would ever change that.”

“... That’s not true,” he says quietly, more to himself than to you.

“It is.” You only tighten your arms around him and then continue with, “Are you going to click our floor or are we just going to sit in the elevator all night?” 

Dazai’s face flushes. “Click our floor,” he says sheepishly

You laugh, Dazai leans over you to click the button before draping himself over you. You feel warm again, but there’s still a cold hole still spreading through your chest: even with the implication of his previous job, and the realization that it might just be something unsavory enough for him to fear you changing how you see him, you just can’t seem to brush away the feeling that there’s something else he’s hiding from you.

“I lied before.”

The admission comes bluntly and quietly from Dazai, who’s laying next to you on the massive king-sized bed of the nicest suite in the hotel—you think you’ve never stayed in a more comfortable bed, all the two of you have been doing for the past few hours is lounging around watching shitty movies and sharing kisses. 

You’re still resting your head on his shoulder, eyes idly tracing the television screen where a girl is crying over a boy she’d just met the other day before you turn your gaze up to him. 

“About what?” you ask.

He’s not looking at you, he’s staring up at the ceiling instead with a conflicted expression; he opens his mouth to say something but nothing spills from his lips. Finally, he sighs, “I didn’t do this just to celebrate you finishing finals.”

Your heart drops a bit, inhaling sharply. You don’t look up at him, wrapping your arm around his waist and settling against his chest, bracing yourself for whatever he’s going to say. “I figured,” you say, your throat feeling a bit tight. “It was a bit… too grand of a gesture to just be for celebrating finishing finals.”

Neither of you speak for a moment, and you wait for him to explain, eyes sliding shut as you listen to the sound of his heart beating steadily in his chest to ground your creeping anxiety. 

“I’m going to have to leave for a while, I think,” Dazai says softly. “Things are… going to get bad. I don’t know how it’s going to go down yet, I don’t know when I’ll be back—I don’t know if-”

He doesn’t finish the sentence, cutting himself off before the words can fall from his lips. He doesn’t have to, you know exactly what he was going to say—he doesn’t even know if he’ll be back. 

Your throat feels tight as you stare ahead at the wall. “That’s okay,” you say, your voice sounds a bit stronger than you actually feel. “I can wait.”

From the corner of your eye, you see his head snap in your direction and you don’t have to look at him to know that he probably has that twisted, conflicted expression on his face. He starts to say, “But I don’t know if-”

“I know,” you interrupt him because you don’t want to hear him say it out loud. “I know. I can wait. I’ll wait for you.”

Dazai doesn’t say anything in response, you don’t know what’s running through his head—you’re not sure if you want to know, or you suppose that’s not really true. You’d kill to understand what exactly goes on in Dazai’s head, you want to understand him better, you want him to rely on you like you do him. You want him; you want him for all that he is, no more masks and no more hiding. Just him. 

You’re not given the chance to linger in your thoughts. Dazai moves closer to you, lifting one hand to cup the back of your head and turn your face toward him; he doesn’t waste a second before pressing his lips to yours, they’re chapped and familiar, you’ve kissed him hundreds of times since that party but this one feels different. It feels desperate, as if he’s afraid to forget the taste of you or the feeling of your touch.

He shifts his body closer to yours, pushing you back gently until you’re laying flat on your bed with him hovering on top of you—his lips don’t move away from yours for even a second. It’s dizzying, honestly. He kisses you like he wants to consume you, like you’ll disappear at any given second; his tongue brushes against your bottom lip and your lips part instinctively for him.

His body slides on top of yours, narrow hips slotting between your thighs—there’s no space between the two of you, you can feel the heat of his body radiating against yours, you can feel his fingers intertwining just a bit too tightly into your hair, causing a pleasant sting to spread through your scalp, you can feel his bulge pressing against your pelvis. 

Oh, you think to yourself, sighing into his mouth as his tongue traces the inside of your lips, as if trying to create a map of your mouth. It’s soft and gentle, you think he might be tracing letters on your tongue but you’re so hazed out that you can’t concentrate enough to figure out what they are with the added feeling of the fingers of his free hand tracing up and down your side.

And then, as if he’s had enough of the slow pace, he deepens the kiss. You think there’s something distinctively filthy about the way that Dazai’s tongue drags against the roof of your mouth before he separates your mouths so he can trail wet kisses along your jaw, the gentle traces on your side becoming a much more firm grip on your hip as he hooks one of your legs around his waist to tentatively roll his hips against yours.

Your body aches at the feeling of his bulge nudging up against your core, the friction setting all of your nerves on fire. This isn’t the first time that the two of you have started to take the next step—kisses becoming just a bit too heavy, touches becoming just a bit too desperate—but every time he ends up withdrawing, and god, you think you might die if he does now too. His lips drag down your neck, he’s reckless with his teeth as he scrapes them against your skin, tongue tracing patterns down to your collarbone where he sucks at your skin hard, drawing a choked, breathy moan from you.

His fingers bite into your skin as his lips trail down lower—lower than they ever have before, down to plump flesh of your breast, to the low cut line of your dress—your lashes flutter and lips part and you want to beg him ‘please, don’t stop’ but you don’t think you’re capable of speaking right now, mind fogged with desire. He keeps the pressure on your cunt with slow and lazy rolls of his hips, each movement putting more and more friction on your clit and-

And he’s stopping??

Your breath catches when he suddenly rests his forehead in the crook of your neck, catching his own breath as his body stills and you can feel his arms tensing as he prepares to push himself off of you.

You don’t let him. 

With the leg you still have hooked around his waist, you flip the two of you over. His pupils are blown wide as he stares up at you, a surprised ‘oof’ escaping his lips. You think he’s beautiful. You really do. His lips are pink and swollen and wet with spit, his cheeks are flushed, hair an unruly mess haloed around his head; you lean down to press your lips against his, taking the lead yourself now, and you relish in the muffled groan he lets out into your mouth as you grind your hips down against his clothed cock.

It’s a short kiss for how sloppy and debauched it is, tongues sliding against each other’s and lips clashing messily, hips rocking in sync—hot, blood curdling, but you have questions that need to be answered before you continue. He chases your lips when you pull away, a distressed noise forming in the back of his throat. 

“Why don’t you want to fuck me?” you finally ask the words that have been plaguing you for almost two whole months. 

Dazai stares at you as if you’ve grown two heads, and you’d be embarrassed at asking the question if the past two months haven’t been weighing so heavily on your shoulders. He looks pointed down his body, to where his cock is hard, straining painfully against his black slacks, and then he looks back up at you as if to say, what are you talking about? But you aren’t letting it go that easily.

“Don’t give me that,” you snap, your nails digging crescents into his shoulders through his dress shirt, wrinkled now from your time lounging about and indulging in one another. “You know what I’m talking about. We’ve been together for two months and every time we’re about to take the next step, you stop it, you were about to now too, weren’t you?” 

Dazai grimaces suddenly and that’s all of the confirmation you need. You pull back, a bit hurt, but before you can withdraw completely, his hand darts out to grab your bicep, stopping you. 

“It’s not… you,” he finally says, voice a bit hoarse—you don’t know if it’s because of the way you’re caught in a position where you’re still half grinding down on his cock or if it’s because he doesn’t want to have this conversation, but you’re instantly rolling your eyes.

“Okay, if you’re going to hit me with the ‘it’s not you, it’s me,’ we’re going to have problems, Osamu.”

The grin he gives you is wry, his eyes still half-lidded as lays back against the bed again, letting out a sigh. He lets go of your bicep, hand falling down to your thigh to rub absent circles with his thumb as he stares up at the ceiling.

“I…” he trails off, as if considering his words, and you’re patient because you can tell he’s trying to be open and honest with you, vulnerable in a way he rarely ever is. “I’ve slept around a lot, and I know that you’ve probably heard that from the rest of the Agency and even if you haven’t, we’ve ran into a few… uh… we’ve ran into a few ex-acquaintances of mine while out on dates. I’ve never actually had a relationship. I don’t really know what I’m doing, I just don’t want you to think I only wanted you for sex.”

Your eye twitches. 

“Dazai Osamu,” you say with a heavy sigh, leaning forward to cup his cheeks with both of your hands. He looks up at you with those big brown eyes that you can never say no to. He leans his face into your hand as his lashes flutter, you stroke his cheekbones gently with your thumbs. “For someone so intelligent, you really are the stupidest man I’ve ever met.”

You don’t give him time to get offended by your words, leaning down to kiss him again. This kiss is slower, just as intimate but not quite as depraved—lips gliding against each other’s, tongues teasing in a slow dance. His hands rest carefully on your hips and yours stay cupping his cheeks, you kiss him until your lungs scream for air and even then, you kiss him longer, reluctant to separate from him.

When you finally do, you rest your forehead to his, eyes fluttering shut as you share a thin sliver of air, dizzy from the feeling of breathing in one another’s air. Your thumb caresses his cheek, fingers intertwining with his dark locks, you press one more kiss to his lips, this one short and sweet, and then you say, “I want to have sex with you. Please fuck me, Osamu.” 

He’ll deny it later, but the noise that slips from his lips is nothing short of a whimper as his grip on your hips tightens and he leans in to steal another kiss. He doesn’t move to switch your positions, seemingly content to stay beneath you, so you press him back down until he’s laying flat against the mattress, hands sliding down from his cheeks to rest against his chest as you tilt your head to the side to deepen the kiss, letting out a pleased hum against his lips when you feel one of his hands play with the hem of your dress, fingers dipping beneath the cloth, teasing. You kiss the corner of his mouth, and then down to his jawline, nipping at the sensitive skin and feeling him shiver. 

“You’ll wait for me?” he asks suddenly, voice soft, biting back a groan as you roll your hips against his. He sounds hesitant, as if he doesn’t entirely believe you. 

“Yes,” you tell him, lifting your head from his jaw to hover over his face again, fingers tracing his cheekbone, leaning down to press another chaste kiss against his lips. He tries to chase after your lips as you pull away, but you only give him a playful smile before leaning back again.

“Why?” Dazai asks hoarsely—he looks at you as if he’s desperate to know the answer, and the words linger dangle off of the edge of your tongue.

Because I love you. 

You think you love him more than you’ve ever loved anyone else in the world—he makes you laugh when you can’t even bring yourself to smile, he makes you feel light when you swear you have the whole world weighing down on your shoulders, and he does it even though you know he struggles himself. And you want him to let you be there for him the same way that he always is for you, but he always closes off when you try.

Except now. 

“Because you’re worth waiting for,” you say instead of those other three damning words.

“I’m not.” Dazai shakes his head, and it almost sounds like he’s trying to warn you, but you only cup his cheeks again and force him to still.

“Don’t tell me what is and isn’t worth it,” you say, giving him another teasing smile before adding, “I decide that for myself, and you are.”

“I’m really not,” he stresses, “I-”

You don’t let him finish, instead leaning down to cut him off with another kiss—he barely kisses you back, but you don’t really care because you only meant to stop him from talking anyway. 

“You are,” you murmur, your lips graze his jaw again and you can feel him shiver beneath you again.

His fingers tighten around your hips and he’s flipping you onto your back in an instant. Your vision spins, a gasp pulling from your lips, and he gives you no time to regain your bearings as he bunches your dress to your hips, lips finding yours as his fingers fumble to push your panties to the side before he slides his middle finger and ring finger deep inside you, without all of the practiced ease you expected from him, more akin to a nervous boy who’s terrified of making a mistake.

Your jaw goes slack, head pressing back against the pillow, back arching up. Dazai’s lips move to the next available part of your body when he loses your lips: sucking at the skin on the underside of your jaw. As soon as he hears the choked gasp of his name, sees the way your body reacts to his touch, he seems to instantly lose his nerves. You can feel a wicked smile edge at his lips against your skin and as he presses soft kisses to your skin in lieu of the harsh sucks, he makes up for the gentleness there by fucking you with his fingers so brutally that your lips part but you can’t even make a single noise. 

“This what you wanted, bella?” he purrs, but his voice is rough, exposing just how affected he is as he watches you writhe under his touch. “To think, here I was trying to be good and all you were thinking about was when I was finally going to split you open on my cock. How long did I keep you waiting, hm?” 

You don’t respond. You can’t respond. All you can focus on is the drag of his long, lithe fingers against your walls, the sudden stretch, the sloppy sound of his fingers driving in and out of your cunt. It’s wet and filthy and you can barely even breathe, much less speak.

You wanted this. You wanted this so bad. You remember all of the nights you’d spent desperately fucking your fingers, trying to pretend they were his but yours aren’t nearly as long, they can’t hit all of the places his do. You remember coming home with your face on fire, body itching with desire from the casual advances he made but never acted upon. You remember throwing yourself into bed, careful to keep a hand pressed to your mouth or your pillow over your face so he can’t hear from the other room as you let out muffled whimpers. You’ve wanted this so bad, you’ve imagined it so many times before but it pales in comparison to actually having him. His fingers feel so much better, dragging against your walls and pushing back inside of you hard. He’s so much prettier, dark hair matted to his forehead, pupils blown wide and lips still swollen and puffy from kisses; his voice is edged with so much wanton need that you could probably get off from it alone.

The heat spreads through your body fast. Your head feels all light and hazy. Your abdomen twists and coils and god, there’s no way you’ll cum just from this, there’s no way, but your breath becomes quick and pitched, your lungs start to burn and-

And he stops. 

“I hate you,” you sob when he purposely stills his fingers inside of you after hearing you reach the edge, feeling the way your walls were starting to clamp down on him. “Osamu-”

He clicks his tongue, lifting his face from your neck to hover above you. His eyes are suddenly mirthful and cruel, his smile is sharp and dangerous—a monster, you’d unleashed a monster. 

His free hand comes up so he can brush his knuckles against your cheekbone, fingers tracing the contours of your face before coming to land on your bottom lip, plump and wet from all of his kisses.

“Answer my question,” he says as he traces the outline of your lips. “How long? Fuck, you’re so wet, sliding in like it’s nothing, could probably fuck you as you are right now but I wanna feel you come apart on my fingers first. Tell me, how long have you wanted me to fuck you?” 

You don’t even know what you’re saying, forcing something out about your date at the Sankeien Garden two months ago and you remember the way he’d looked so pretty beneath the sakura blossoms and you felt so dirty because all you could think about was dragging him back to your apartment and having him in every way possible. His eyes widen when you admit the date, breath hitching and lips parting.

“That long?” he whispers, eyes searching yours as if to make sure you’re not lying and you think he’s stupid because you hardly have the headspace to think much less lie. His smile widens, teeth looking distinctly close to knives under the dim lighting of the penthouse suite of the resort. He leans down to graze his teeth against your neck. “Well, far be it from me to keep you waiting any longer.” 

He lifts his head again before he continues the thrusts of his fingers, so he can watch you, surely—not as harshly, this time he’s precise and steady, each stroke has the pads of his fingers rubbing up against that soft spot inside of you, forcing your head into the clouds and your eyes to roll back.

“Did you get yourself off to the thought of me?” he breathes out, pupils blown wide, you try to rock your hips in time with his fingers but his free hand comes down to your pelvis, pinning you down with that deceptive strength of his. “Press your hand to your mouth to cover the noise, fuck yourself with your fingers while I was sitting in the next room over before we started sharing a bed?”

A broken sob spills from your lips, Dazai’s thumb presses against your clit when you don’t respond. Your thighs tense and tremble, instinctively going to clamp down on his hand but Dazai’s knee wedges between your legs before you can, forcibly keeping them spread. You think you should be embarrassed, you sound so wet, so sloppy, each thrust of his fingers and you can feel the slick splattering across your inner thighs, if you were any more coherent you’d be humiliated but Dazai looks absolutely reverent.

“You did, didn’t you?” he laughs breathlessly. “I heard noises sometimes, I thought maybe you were having nightmares, was tempted to go in and check on you sometimes. Good thing for you I didn’t then, yeah? Would’ve caught my dirty girl fucking herself to the thought of me, wouldn’t that have been a sight?” 

Spots dot your vision, your nails claw at the sheets of the bed and you press your face halfway into the mattress as you desperately try to push away your rapidly approaching high, not wanting to cum so quickly, but it’s a losing battle with Dazai’s filthy words ringing through your ears and his fingers splitting you open. 

“You must have been so desperate when we started sharing a bed, couldn’t even get yourself off at night anymore. Poor baby, if you’d have just said something I would’ve buried myself between your thighs from sunset to sunrise,” Dazai coos, and you don’t even have to look at him to know his grin is suddenly much more lecherous. “... Unless you just waited until I fell asleep. Did you ever get yourself off while I was laying asleep next to you? Tell me.”

You won’t tell him. You won’t tell him. He’ll never let you live it down but you’ve lost control of your body, your mouth moves before your brain can tell it to stop: “Once,” you choke out, “only once.” 

And Dazai moans, it’s unabashed and wanton, eyes fluttering shut as soon as your words register and then he’s picking up the pace of his fingers, precise and ruthless and you don’t even know what you’re trying to say but it doesn’t matter because the only noise that spills from your lips is just another moan, garbled between his name and a please. Distantly, you think the bandages on his wrist and his expensive slacks must be ruined, the lewd sound of his fingers pushing in and out of you drowning out all other noise.

“I’m gonna-” you try to gasp out to warn him, head tossed back and hair matted to your forehead, they’re the only intelligible words to leave your lips but Dazai gets what you’re trying to say, of course.

“Yeah, you are,” he rasps, watching with the devotion of a disciple to his god as your back arches and cries of his name escape your lips. 

He scissors his fingers inside of you, presses down hard on your clit, and you’re gone, you cry his name so loud that you think you should be embarrassed because there’s no way the other resort guests can’t hear what’s happening but in the moment, you’re too fucked out to care. You think you might be dying, your heart thudding in your ears, your body on fire, you don’t think you’ve ever cum so hard in your entire life.

Your body spasms, trembles; he rides out your high, fucking his fingers slowly into you, watching the way you whimper and writhe, you think tears might be spilling over your cheeks, reeling from the intensity of your orgasm, and your thoughts are confirmed when Dazai leans over you, tongue dating out to lick away the tears. 

Your breath hitches and your thighs quake, a jolt spreading through your body when he finally pulls his fingers out of you, your walls still convulsing around the digits. He sits up straight again, thighs straddling your hips and you can feel his cock pressing against your pelvis and you feel insatiable because you just finished and it’s not enough. Even as your body screams with sensitivity, not ready for anymore stimulation, your lashes flutter at the thought of his cock stretching you out, fucking so deep into you that you can feel him in your belly, thicker than his fingers, longer.

He brings his fingers up to his lips, sucking them into his mouth and you watch as a low, muffled groan escapes his lips, eyes rolling back as he sucks your cum right off of his fingers, not letting a single drop go to waste. Filthy. He’s so filthy. Utterly shameless. And god, do you need him. 

As if he can read your mind, his hands fall to his belt, fingers fumbling to undo the buckle and pull it off. He flings it over to the side haphazardly, and you reach up, grabbing his dark tie and pulling him down to kiss him again. He moans into your mouth, one arm coming to rest on the mattress by your head to prop himself up and the other still stuffed between your bodies, desperately trying to unbutton and unzip his slacks.

God, he kisses you like you’re about to disappear, as if any moment could be your last. His tongue flattens against yours, sweeping against the roof of your mouth, mapping it out until it’s scorched into his memory; you can hardly do anything but lay there and let him, fingers fisted weakly around his tie. 

When he finally does get his pants unbuttoned and unzipped, he doesn’t even bother to pull them off. He shoves them down just enough to free his cock, and your breath hitches when you feel the way it slides against your lower stomach. Your dress bunched up to your chest, you can feel the precum smearing against your skin—he’s so long, you can tell without even looking and for a split second, you wonder if you’ll even be able to take him all the way. 

Dazai hardly gives you enough time for the fears to fester. His fingers wrap around your panties to pull them off but the material is thin and lacy and it only tears under his frustrated yank. You don’t even care, you can’t bring yourself to—you’ll make him but you new ones. He won’t complain about that of all things, in fact, he’ll probably have the time of his life. 

As soon as your panties are out of the way, Dazai is lining himself up with your cunt—he doesn’t fuck you, not yet, and you think he’s evil for the way he rolls his hips slowly, letting his cock slide between your folds, pelvic bone grinding against your clit. You let out a whine—a whine, you’ve never whined before in your life but you don’t know how else to describe the noise that escapes your lips. Dazai can’t even tease you for it, though, because his whole body shivers at the feeling of his cock slipping between your folds, breath shaky.

“Oh fuck,” he breathes out, and then he free hand curls around your thigh, wrapping it around his waist, and he finally thrusts his hips forward, pushing inside of you. 

The stretch burns, it burns so good even with how thoroughly he prepped you with his fingers and Dazai lets out such a pornographic moan that you think you might cum just from the sound of it. His lashes flutter, pink dusts his cheek, he rests his forehead against yours, breath so shaky that you think maybe he might be about to cum.

“Feels so good,” he gasps, next to your head, his fingers twist the sheets of the bed until his knuckles are white. “What’re you doin’ to me?” 

His words hardly register, but when they do, you’re perplexed.

“What d’ya mean, Osamu?” you breathe out, and the way his body shudders above yours at the sound of his name leaving your lips is fucking heavenly.

“I’ve never-” he chokes over another moan and your throat feels dry when you realize he really might just be about to cum, “it’s never-”

“Hm?” you press when his voice trails off and his eyes half back. You tilt your head up to ghost your lips over his jaw, nibbling over the bandages covering his Adam’s apple. It bobs beneath your teeth and he lets out another shaky noise.

“It’s never felt like this,” he pushes out, the words sound like a near slur. “I feel so-”

“So what?”

“So good.” God, his voice comes out close to a sob, broken and cracking, and when you try to move your hips, desperate for him to finally move, he lets out a panicked sound: “I’ll cum. I’ll cum. Don’t move yet, don’t-”

You still if only out of sheer shock of how worked up he already is. His whole body is trembling, he’s gnawing at his bottom lip, you can feel his cock twitching inside you, as if begging for release already. And your body is aching, your tummy is hot and your head is fuzzy, but it pales in comparison to the sight of Dazai crumbling above you just from the feeling of being inside of you. All of smooth talking and filthy words are gone, leaving behind only a man on the brink of falling apart.

“Feel like a virgin.” This sounds distinctly closer to a sob now, and you can’t help but notice that his cheeks are red and hot, his lashes are wet as they flutter shut—you wonder if he’s embarrassed. “S’tight, and-and wet. Fuck, fuck, what’re ya doing to me, bella? ‘s never happened before.” 

Your hands slide up his body to cup his cheeks, dragging his face back down to press your lips against his, and when he moans into your mouth as soon as your lips are touching, he’s finally rocking his hips up into you. The pace is harsh and erratic, as if he’s already desperately trying to chase his release, and you can’t breathe, you can’t think. The tip of his cock bullies so deep inside of you that you think you might die, you think he might actually be splitting you open.

Your lips part in a noiseless moan, your head spins, Dazai fucks you harder, faster, so deeply that it almost hurts because each thrust has him brushing closer and closer to your cervix, hips slapping against your ass and thighs so roughly they’ll probably be bruised tomorrow; it tears the air from your lungs, you think you might pass out because you can’t seem to catch your breath. All of his finesse and touches driven by practiced ease are long gone; there’s something about this so carnal, driven by sheer lust, that it has your head in the clouds. And Dazai is always loud, he fills every silence he stumbles upon, but he’s especially loud now as he moans your name and claws at the sheets next to your head, gasping and panting and cursing each time he feels your walls convulse around him. 

You don’t even realize it when you cum. There’s no build up this time. One thrust sends you over the edge as his cock presses up against that soft spot inside of you and his pelvic bone grinds just right over your clit, and instantly you’re spasming beneath him, your nails dig into his dress shirt and your body arches against his, head tossed back against the mattress and vision going spotty. Your lips are moving but you don’t know if screaming his name or if there’s no noise leaving you at all.

All you do know is that as soon as you’re cumming on his cock, walls tightening around him, Dazai’s eyes are rolling into the back of his head, hair matted to his forehead as he tosses his head back, jaw falling slack. There’s no warning when his hips still against yours and he’s suddenly pumping you full of his cum.

He slumps on top of you, body limp and shoulders still trembling in the aftershocks of his orgasm. You’re desperately trying to ground yourself again, trying to catch your breath and slow your heart rate, Dazai’s face is buried in your neck and you can feel how his back rises and falls rapidly as he tries to catch his own breath.

“So embarrassing,” you hear him slur from where he’s pressed against the crook of your neck still. “‘s never happened before.”

You can’t help the giggle that spills from your lips and he groans against you.

“Don’t laugh at me,” he complains, rolling off of you so he can pull you into his chest. Your eyes flutter shut as you rest half on top of him, letting out a soft sigh. “Next time, I’ll show you. You’ll regret laughing.”

“I’m sure,” you say, more to placate him than anything else, and he grumbles but doesn’t respond.

The two of you bask in each other’s presence for a few moments before he finally asks again, “You’ll really wait for me?” His voice is so soft that you might not have heard it if you weren’t so close to him.

You turn your face to the side to kiss his chest, smiling against his skin. “Only if you promise not to forget me while you’re gone.”

He lets out a breathless laugh, tilting his head down to kiss the top of your head. His voice is hoarse and stripped bare to of his unbound emotions for the first time as he says, “The thought of you will be the only thing that gets me through this.”

However bad that Dazai might’ve thought the weeks without you were going to be, it’s been worse. Only sheer willpower and the image of you waiting for him back home is pushing him through the trials and tribulations that Dostoevsky continues to push him through. 

At first, the mind games and taunts and the puzzles of misdirection and manipulation were fun; Dazai has never conversed so long with someone who can keep up with his every thought and every plan. Fyodor Dostoevsky is impressive, Dazai can’t deny that, but the fun of the games is swiftly coming to an end the longer he has to stay in this wretched cell with even more wretched company.

He doesn’t have much to do—he has around four square meters to move around in, which is barely enough for him to comfortably stretch. All he does is lay in bed all day, waiting for Ango’s signals as he tries to anticipate Dostoevsky’s each and every move. His brain throbs and aches, having been placed on overdrive for weeks without rest because he knows one mistake on his part will lead to the fall of the Agency, the death and ruin of the few people he might actually consider friends.

The rare moments he allows it to rest, he thinks of you. He wonders what you’re doing back in Yokohama—maybe having coffee at that cafe near your apartment building, or meeting some of your friends from university for drinks. He wonders if you’re holding true to your words, if you’re actually waiting for him or if you moved on the moment he disappeared—he hopes that you are, because the thought of you, and getting to be with you again, is the only thing that’s keeping the gears of his worn out, exhausted brain turning.

A part of him wonders if you know what’s happening. Well, he knows that you must have some inkling—the Decay of the Angel’s plot has been a vastly public one, and you’re typically on top of current events. He wishes that he knew your thoughts on it. He wonders if you’d fallen victim to the Book, believing that the Agency are the terrorists that they’ve been written to be. He wonders if you were able to fight against the Book’s influence, because he knows that the Book can’t possibly be infallible—nothing is, there will always be cracks for exceptions to seep through. He hopes that you’re one of them.  

He wonders if his crimes had become public knowledge too. 

The thought makes his stomach churn uncomfortably, regret creeping through his chest because if you were going to learn about his past, it should’ve been from him, not from a random news outlet that’ll make him out to be the treacherous monster he really is, the one he’s taken so much care to hide from you. At least if he’d been the one to tell you, he could’ve framed it in a way of his choice—though he’s not sure how exactly he could frame something like that in his favor, it at least would’ve been better than the news. 

He wants to ask Ango, but he knows that he can’t—not when the more pressing matter is the Agency and clearing its name. His own personal matters have to be pushed to the side until that’s handled, no matter how much his heart screeches at him otherwise.

This is why he hates emotions.

“Dazai,” Dostoevsky suddenly says and Dazai is immediately ripped from the brief respite he’d allowed his brain, although it wasn’t much of a respite considering he spent the whole time anxious about you. A smile graces Dostoevsky’s face that Dazai instantly doesn’t like. “Let us switch chess boards for a moment.”

Dazai’s eyes narrow. “To which one?” 

“Yokohama,” Dostoevsky says absently. “... Knight from D5 to E3.” 

Dazai stares for a moment—Knight from D5 to E3? The move is somewhat appalling in Dazai’s mind, but only because he can’t put together the reasoning behind it. It’s a dangerous push onto his side of the board, and for what reason? Most of Dazai’s pieces are setting up on the opposite corner of the board for an attempt to take out Dostoevsky’s bishop, which is what Dazai expected Dostoevsky to focus on protecting. 

Dazai sits up in his bed, unable to hide the way his brows furrow a bit as he visualizes their chessboard, eyes darting around to each piece, trying to figure out what exactly in this game has slipped past his weary brain, lost in the dozens of chess games that he’s currently playing against Dostoevsky. And as he looks from piece to piece, he begins to understand.

There are only two pieces left vulnerable to the play that Dostoevsky is about to make. 

Dazai’s expression hardens, Dostoevsky’s smile widens. 

If Dazai doesn’t continue with his plan on the opposite side of the board, the opportunity will be lost and the Agency will not get another like this. Dazai clearly underestimated just how little Dostoevsky cares about his pieces—he doesn’t care whether or not his bishop is captured—he has a greater aim anyway. 

The chessboard of the game he’s visualizing begins to crumble before his eyes and his vision starts to tunnel, a chill spreads through his chest, to his arms and to his fingers. 

He needs to contact Ango, but Dazai’s heart is racing on its own now and he can barely control himself enough to send a message to the older man. In one move, Dostoevsky will be able to position his knight in a way that will have Dazai’s king in check and his queen left vulnerable. And Dazai will be left with no choice—allowing Ranpo to be captured by the Hunting Dogs is not an option, everything will fall apart. He needs to contact Ango. But he realizes that even if he does get the message through, he doesn’t know if Ango will receive it or if he’s too busy with plans at the Sky Casino. And even if he does receive it, Ango might not even be able to do anything. 

“Dazai, dear, you’re taking quite a long time with this move—don’t tell me I have you in a corner already. It would be very disappointing, I expected better from you,” Dostoevsky’s faux-congenial voice mocks him from the other cell, and Dazai wants blood. 

“Rook from B5 to F5,” Dazai’s voice sounds hollow and cold to his own ears as he continues forward with the plan he had set in motion at the cost of the one person Dazai doesn’t think he’ll be able to handle losing. The tips of his fingers feel numb as he waits for the inevitable. 

Dostoevsky’s teeth are like knives.

“How callous and cold-hearted of you. I must say, I’m impressed—I really didn’t think you had it in you, you truly are the prodigy they all claim you to be. Knight from D5 to E3. Check to King at F1.”

“King from F1 to F2.”

“Knight from E3 to D1.”

And just like that, the one piece that Dazai has refused to touch the whole game falls. His ears ring and his brain throbs painfully, his throat feels dry and scratchy but he refuses to give Dostoevsky the reaction that he’s waiting for. The Russian finally speaks the words that finalize the play:

“Queen captured.”

“138 counts of conspiracy to murder. 312 counts of extortion. 625 counts of assorted fraud. Numerous other known crimes, countless unknown crimes. A former executive of the Port Mafia known as the Demon Prodigy, the youngest underboss in the history of the Mafia.”

You think it’s ridiculous. Or, you want to think that it’s ridiculous. You want to condemn the words as ludicrous as the idea of the members of the Armed Detective Agency being terrorists. These whole past two weeks have thrown you for a loop—you were sitting at your laptop watching a reality show to pass time when you got the notifications on your phone regarding the terrorist attack on the Ministry of Defense, the very place you were supposed to start working at soon. 

You’d been watching with your heart in your throat until they were finally unveiled, and the moment they were, you were caught entirely off guard because what on earth? You saw it with your own eyes, but you still can’t bring yourself to believe it because what do you mean Mister Fifty-Eight Ideals with a moral high ground taller than the peak of Everest, Kunikida Doppo, is a terrorist? Tanizaki Jun’ichiro, the sweet boy who joins his sister down in the cafe with you when you’re waiting for Dazai to finish getting scolded by Kunikida, buying you a coffee and pastry? Izumi Kyouka, the young girl who looked at you with stars in her eyes when you brought her a crepe from the bakery near your apartment? Yosano Akiko, the woman who loves so hard and so deeply even if she does hide behind a rough facade, taking you, a stranger, in without hesitation just because of how happy you make Dazai?

There’s no way. You live in a world where men can transform into tigers and women can bring people back from the brink of death—there has to be something supernatural going on, you can’t bring yourself to believe that this is reality. 

But are you equally as sure about the allegations against Dazai?

You try to make sure that the conflict doesn’t show on your face as your mind races—you remember the night in Kyoto when you asked him about his previous job and how he reacted to it, you also remember how the waiters and the hostess and even the owner had treated him. Your heart sinks and your throat tightens a bit, you have to force yourself to focus on the conversation at hand.

The young man dressed in a burgundy military uniform sitting before you has a smile that can only be described as cruel, the red tips of his hair brushing his chin as he tilts his head to the side. “I do hope you understand how critical it is for us to obtain as much information as possible. We are authorized to go to any lengths to prevent the deterioration of this situation—if someone is suspected of giving refuge to any of the terrorists, or assisting them in any other way, they will be charged with conspiracy against the government and the aiding and abetting of global terrorism. We have full power to act on our own discretion and take in anyone who presumes to be uncooperative to our questioning.”

“Is that a threat?” you finally ask, absently circling your coffee mug. 

There are people looking at you—you’d chosen to sit outside of the cafe, and the streets are busy. You recognize two elderly women who frequent the cafe giving you concerned looks; three high school students sharing intrigued looks as one of them starts to video the encounter, knowing that any footage of the famed Hunting Dogs and the ongoing international crisis is a quick ticket to going viral; a businessman and his wife meeting for an early lunch before he goes back to work. 

Good, you think. 

“Only if you have something to hide,” the young man, who introduced himself as Jouno Saigiku, replies easily, smile sharpening a bit. “Do you have something to hide?” 

“Why would I have something to hide?” you ask instead of replying, eyes narrowing. 

“You tell me.”

“I have nothing to tell you.”

Distantly, you can hear the chatter of passerbyers walking down the sidewalk, the screeching of brakes as a car comes to an abrupt stop a few blocks down, the soft music coming from inside the cafe, but your gaze is tunneled on the young man sitting in front of you. His face is deceptively calm, eyes turned up and expression smooth, but you can see how the corner of his lip is pulled taut. More people begin paying attention to your conversation—you recognize some of them as regular patrons of the cafe who you’ve spoken to multiple times. 

“I think you do,” Jouno says idly. “Even if it weren’t for the way your heart is racing… this is damning enough, isn’t it?”

You raise your chin as Jouno slides over a manila folder to you. You don��t move to look at it for a moment, eyes lingering on his face before you finally flip it open, lips pressing together tightly. Dozens of pictures of you and Dazai lay within the envelope, pulled from CCTV tape all around the city—most of the pictures are innocent enough to pass off as two acquaintances having a cup of coffee, but there are a few questionable ones. 

And god, you miss him. Just seeing his face is enough to make your heart long for him, it’s only been what? A week and a half? But it’s been hell going from seeing him every day to not even knowing what happened to him until now… with all of this, learning about his crimes, finding out he’s imprisoned in the highest security ability user prison in the world, as you’re being interrogated by a member of the country’s most elite military unit. 

It’s too much, you think. What the hell are you even supposed to think of it all? 

You don’t even have time to think, not with this rabid dog sitting in front of you ready to leap for your throat at the first sign of weakness.

“How so?” you ask after you get your head back on straight, flipping the folder shut. “I’ve met with Dazai Osamu before. So have dozens of people in this cafe, hundreds of people around the city. Misaki-san, the older lady over there, has lunch with Kunikida-san twice weekly. Sayuri-chan, the high-schooler sitting two tables over, goes to Yosano-sensei for check-ups because her parents are hardly around to bring her to the doctor’s office. Takeuchi-san has tea with Fukuzawa-dono every Wednesday. Half of the city is intimately connected with the Armed Detective Agency, in one way or another—they’re active citizens, frequent faces around the streets, always helping when given the chance. Are you going to interrogate every citizen who has ever spent free time with a member of the Armed Detective Agency? Accuse them of conspiracy against the government and the aiding and abetting of terrorism?”

Your words cause a bit of a subtle shockwave across the eavesdroppers—a range of emotions from anxiety to indignance crossing faces, just as you hoped would happen. You figured that there would be no way of you really getting out of this, but you hope at least to trigger a bit of unrest. You know that a lot of the city’s civilians haven’t been fond of how the Hunting Dogs are handling this situation, despite them having authority from the Prime Minister to go to any lengths to regain control over the crisis.

And it’ll hit them hard seeing an upstanding, regular civilian being targeted for vague affiliation with a group that thousands of people in the city have had a vague affiliation with. Because if it happens to an upstanding, regular civilian, it can happen to any upstanding, regular civilian, and if it can happen to any upstanding, regular civilian, it can happen to them. You think most of the civilians in the city have been biting their tongues out of fear of the escalating terror, but once any civilian that’s ever affiliated themselves with the Agency becomes at risk for being under suspicion, under threat, then they’ll be forced to voice their discontent lest they be targeted next. 

“So, we’re going to do this the hard way then,” Jouno notes pleasantly, his smile is tight and there’s a tinge to his voice that you can only decipher as a threat. “Good, I was hoping it turned out this way.”

You remember the warning you’d gotten the night before: ‘The Hunting Dogs will come after you next, get out of the city - R’ and a part of you wishes that you’d taken the warning more seriously and gotten the hell out of Yokohama in the middle of the night before you could be interrogated. You’ll lose your internship, it might affect your standing in your university. You wonder if your brother would be disappointed, he spent his whole life trying to build a better one for you—sacrificing his happiness, morality, and eventually his life—and here you are about to throw it away.

Are you really going to do this?

You swallow thickly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. You think of Dazai—you think of the chilling list of crimes and his current imprisonment, you think of the promise you made before he fell off the face of the earth, you think of the nights you spent together, you think of the past few months you’ve lived with him. You realize that they’ve been the happiest you’ve been in your entire life, and you think that your brother might understand, because more than giving you a better life, he wanted you to have a happy one. 

Yeah, you’re really going to do this. 

You’ll get your answers from Dazai himself. You know in your heart that something bigger is going on, there’s no way that the members of the Agency are the terrorists that the world claims them to be and you don’t know if something else could possibly be going on with Dazai and the allegations against him as well. You think you know deep down that there’s likely some semblance of truth to them, but you owe it to him—and more importantly, to yourself—to hear it directly from him. 

Until then, your loyalty stays with him. 

“I guess so,” you agree softly, before turning your gaze up to Agatsuma Misaki, who’s looking increasingly more distressed by the whole situation. “Misaki-san, would you please let Hotaru-san and Hideyoshi-san know what happened here? I’m sure they’ll be worried when I don’t return home tonight, I don’t want them to lose any sleep over me.” 

Agatsuma Misaki clutches her necklace to her chest as she nods, her wrinkled face bunched up in concern, and the woman sitting with her looks equally horrified. The three high schoolers sitting two tables away are sharing wide-eyed looks with each other, whispering under their breaths as they point to the one boy’s phone, still evidently recording. The businessman, Takeuchi Isamu, is watching with hawk eyes, but his fingers are tapping away at the phone he’s hiding beneath the table. 

Jouno Saigiku rises to his feet, smile sharp and bordering on malicious as he says your name and then: 

“You are under arrest for conspiracy against the government and aiding and abetting the Armed Detective Agency in their terrorism against the State of Japan and the entire world.”

— the only development in the smut scene itself is reader very briefly acknowledging that she loves him (internally, she doesn't tell him) and dazai acknowledging that he's avoided any intimacy because he's been worried that she's going to think he only was into her for sex because they've had encounters with ex flings of his & she's heard about him sleeping around from the rest of the agency. so a bit of openness from dazai and a brief acknowledgment of real feelings from reader.

[quailxcrossing]

horse time :3 everyone come back!!!!

lets just say i . fucking love MLP. so much. making MLP AUs of my characters is one of the most comforting things i could do

I already know there's several characters I will be leaving out, because their cutie marks give insight to some more spoilery things; and there's some AUs I've made where I haven't picked out a mark yet- so this is not an exhaustive list!

also like....it was getting extremely long.

Let's begin!

Turrie - a pale blue daffodil trailed with a stylized stem

Turrie has a LOT of daffodil symbolism. If you see a daffodil, it's Turrie. I use the symbolic meaning of "trust" and "honesty". If Rlioch is holding the daffodil, or if it's upside down, that's bad news. Turrie's concept of truth and trust is something that drives her forward, she has done a lot of actions under her perceptions of others and she frets constantly if she is portraying herself correctly despite how terrified she is of herself. The blue of this cutiemark works into her color palette, of course, but the icy white outline and stylized stem are to give it a "crystalized" appearance. Her perception of reality is steadfast, but easily shattered!

Goat- a bright cyan explosion

Ah my little boy...i dont have a lot of clear shots of his cutie mark outside of this base edit I did with Turrie! (base by elementbases on dA)

Goat has always had a strong throughline of his...personality, and truly what could be more of a special talent than Goat's ability to blow things up and start from scratch! Love a guy who can self-sabotage and totally face no consequences what so ever!

Its also a little nod to that I always associate Goat with fast-moving pyrotechnics, and his cyan accent is one I don't commonly see associated with him- he's just so RED!!! the cyan feels more intimate, more private on his design-a good indication of the facets and twists this guy has! look how happy he is to be held by Turrie

AUI (???)

I actually...do not have a clear image of Aui's CM. that's kinda crazy to me. i was gonna leave him out, just like i know i'm leaving a lot of important characters out, but mostly, i just wanted to share this image..... just let this one pass. look at them.....god. yeah he's an alicorn i don't care..........

Runo - a pink cresent moon with clock ticks inside

ft. Indigo! He is too little to have his cutie mark yet!

Runo was SO happy to have a pink cutie mark. I could not deny him that, despite it not being naturally reoccurring anywhere else in his palette.

The moon was a clear choice- Runo's connection with the moon/nighttime/the time of rest has always been around. Nighttime is commonly associated with "dark times", especially in MLP (looks pointedly at Nightmare Moon- god the Nightmare Moon story must make Runo sob so hard) but Runo's character has always found solace there. Time away from the rush and stress of the waking world, a time he can rest and recoup!

Speaking of time...this guy has a tricky relationship with time, doesn't he? Never enough of it, or are too much. He ran out of time at multiple critical moments, and nowadays he feels like his kids are growing up faster than he can handle, but his childrearing in his early 20s took forty years off his life, if not literally at least emotionally. The song Time 2 by half-alive is just....a very good Runo song. i have always carried time motifs with him, as so moons.

Peony - a small book with a purple flower growing from the pages

ms peony!!!! ok her's a bit more straightforward, less interpretive dance - she's a book editor! she's really really good at it!! it is her job to make stories thrive, to find their good pieces and pull them out and snip the bad roots off. She loves what can be found in the written word and learning about other perspectives. she is trying her best to grow herself too- both as a person (pony?) and in her own creative pursuits.

this is more Christmasy themed drawing, but she's just so cute.....

Francine - a pine tree and two drops of water

eugh. sorry

this was one of the first hints i dropped a while ago that Francine was a swimmer! that is where the water drops came from. they also remind me of teardrops, and the two of them is indicative of her two foals, and perhaps....there is more. perhaps. the tree is remnant of her homeland in the forested Pampel, where she kept dragging people back to. that sounds a lot more murderous than it is, but it is terrible regardless.

LIGHTNING ROUND!!!!

Mauve - ice. cream. he likes it. god if i do anything else I'll feel so fucking sad.

Machwell- whatever Genius Lyrics says that Glass Animals meant when they were singing about pineapples in Pork Soda. cmon, could it possibly be anything else????

Niran - (this is Vega's dad btw. he is hidden/hidden) isn't he cute <3

Ernest - hockey! of course it is hockey. that man loves hockey so much- he used to play it! so yeah its a special talent

Reed Forret- fixing shit n tools and wrenches yeeeehawwww

together they make...the elements of harmony (kindness, loyalty, laughter, honesty, generosity)

I gotta start more lightning rounds. okay okay lets go with some MORE!!!!

Maple (quill feather and green inkmark) and Cranberry (ampersand)

Maple's represents her storytelling, penmanship, and journaling! The quill feather is indicative of the importance of her wings, and the connections she has with the Valkyries. wings are VERY important in Tuesday

Cranberry's is similar- her penmanship and calligraphy! Crannie is a mailwoman and takes a lot of care for letters, and finding them incredibly important to her. Handwriting (hoofwriting) is major for her.

Our salesponies!!!

Cradle (coins under a rainbow), Bartenn (coins with hibiscus flowers), and Slavavas (speech bubbles) are all ponies who've got something sell you.

Cradle's represents luck, finding fortune (they are quite a barterer for what they want) and generally just. having an awesome time.

Bartenn's talent also has to do with being a great retail guy, but the hibiscus flowers = hawaiian tees = often associated with relaxation, vacation. i mean, basically every day is an endless vacation for him, right? isn't that what he wanted?

Slavavas's talent is talking people up and accidentally swaying or charming or seducing or making and accepting a trade offer for something he didn't even know he had. he just talks too much

A pawprint pair!

Jemma (green and dripping pink paw print) and Georgiana (brown, yellow, and blue pawprint)

Jemma's special talent is....well. magically turning people into animals in an extremely painful and violating way. her cutie mark was earned the first time she was able to do this, and all she can think is "god god god no please god no sweet celestia please if you've ever loved me, you'll take it back!!"

Georgiana is just :3 creature :3 animal husbandry! they couldn't work with horses, as they ARE a horse, so I imagine they work mostly with other dangerous livestock, and have a knack for calming even the fiercest timberwolf! ft. Foliose as a birdie! Foliose would also make a cool timberwolf

The last little set!! Then I will let you go.

Esperanza (golden butterfly with heart in the center) Esperanza is the queen of the butterfly effect, and of the butterfly's symbolism of messages and rebirth! I can't even. get into it. you know. you know....

Maiceo (???) its a piece of floss through a needle next to a bobbin pin. Maiceo always dreamed of being a tailor, specifically one who made the intricate lace patterns they now adorn themselves with. of course, this didn't work out, as they became Hierophant and had no time for hobbies. and of course, the whole getting cursed and parasites thing. their dream is of days long past.

Magic (A little pink heart outlined with another pink heart) Its supposed to look like her Ty heart tag! Plushies!!! of course that is her special talent :3 her collecting and care and upkeep of her dear stuffed animals! She is just a girl so full of love for her community and wants everyone to keep better with a little animal friend :3

Ruse (her golden sword with moth wings growing from the handle) Oh Ruse, Ruse and your moth-iness...I've read moths are symbolic for the afterlife, for guidance, for the literal "heading for the light" but also positive transformation! like i can't even overstate how perfect all of that is for Ruse. it mirrors Esperanza's butterfly symbolism so much....her sword is obviously very important to her, swordfighting is her talent and also her golden sword is a literal physical manifestation in the real world of...something. you'll see! maybe

if there

was asked to talk about my MLP AU cutie marks....oh yes. oh yes i will do this. later

[sleepygaymerdisease]

ive been thinking. maybe i prioritize drawing stuff a bit too much

[lesbianstarlightglimmer]

night

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe. 

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

-

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

-

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.  

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.  

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.  

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.  

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.  

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

-

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.  

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

-

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

[kaunis-sielu]

Fire Dogs

The fires had been blazing for weeks now, inching closer and closer to your home and firefighters were pouring in. You’d decided to stay, the fire was mostly moving away from town, thank god. The mayor had said that people who were willing to stay and help care for the hordes of firefighters pouring into town were appreciated. So even though you were a single Omega, you’d signed up. You could take in 2-6 firefighters depending on if they were willing to share a bed with one another and if you needed to sleep on the couch. You’d been assigned 3 men, all from New York City, one a Captain and all of them Alphas.

When you open the door as they walk up your sidewalk the first, a man with light hair and blue eyes, gives you a tight smile.

“Hi, welcome. I have a dog, is that okay?” The three men don’t even have to look at one another before all nodding yes. “Great, come on in.” You move out of the doorway and the three men come into the house.

“Thank you so much for opening your home to us.” The first man says, god he smells good, like sandalwood and lavender.

“It’s the least I could do.” You introduce yourself as your dog comes trotting into the room, Cooper’s tail wagging wildly. “But you can call me Fawn, and this is Cooper.”

“Sorry, I’m Steve Rogers, this is Bucky Barnes and Sam Wilson.” The first man says introducing himself and the two men with him.

“It’s a pleasure. I’ll show you guys to your rooms.” You lead them upstairs and show them each to a room. Bucky takes your first spare room, Sam the second and Steve is in the master.

“Buck, you’ve got third shift, Sam you’re on first and I’m on second.”

“Do we start today?” Bucky asks as you make your way downstairs, you were given a small packet for the guys, things you would need to know like allergies, presentation, emergency contacts and dietary restrictions. All three are simple, no dietary issues, no allergies, Alphas, Sam has his wife Carol as his emergency contact but Steve and Bucky, or James as he’s listed, both have Rebecca Barnes, Bucky’s sister.

You get started on dinner and Sam wanders down into the kitchen bringing his

“So, why didn’t you leave town?”

“Nowhere to go. And the fire is heading away from here so hopefully everything will stay away from town.”

“The smoke doesn’t bother you?”

“I mean it’s not great but as long as Coop and I are okay I plan on staying. I’ve got some stuff packed up in my car and ready to go but I just haven’t pulled the trigger yet.”

“That’s fair. We do really appreciate you doing this. Letting us stay here.” He’s got such a soothing presence about him that you forget he’s an Alpha until his scent washes over you.

“It’s the least I can do,” you tell him with a smile, “so what does first shift mean?”

“Oh, it’s the really early shift, like 4am. Steve will be out running a crew since he’s a Captain back home and he’s around 10am then Bucky is 4pm.”

“What will I need for you in the morning? Breakfast? Coffee? Energy bars?”

“Coffee would be great. I usually take it with milk.” You jot down coffee and milk on a sheet of paper.

“How do the other two take their coffee?”

“Barnes likes it black, like a psychopath and Steve likes it with cream and sugar so he can’t taste the coffee.” You laugh and jot down creamer.

“Any chance you know what kind of creamer he likes?”

“Caramel I think.”

“I can always ask him too. I’ll set the coffee to go off at 3:15 for you.”

“Thank you.” Sam says as he sits down at the island. “What are you making for dinner?”

“Spaghetti. I make the sauce from scratch, from the garden.”

“It smells great.”

“Thanks, should be about a half hour. I’ve got meatballs in the oven and will have some garlic bread and green beans from my garden too.”

“You’re going to spoil us huh?” He says with a grin and you laugh, hoping that your suppressants work like they’re supposed to and keep you presenting as a Beta.

“I don’t get to cook for others often so I’m being a little selfish. Let me know if you need anything from town or want me to get anything. I’ll go shopping for the week tomorrow.”

“Are they paying you to host us?”

“No, but I don’t mind getting you guys stuff.”

“Are you sure?”

“Absolutely, I wouldn’t offer if it was a problem.” You assure him and after studying you he nods.

“I’ll be sure to let the guys know.” You chat with Sam while you cook. You learn that his wife Carol is an Alpha and a doctor. The Alpha/Alpha pair is uncommon but if it works for them that’s wonderful. You also learn that he, Bucky and Steve served together and that Carol had outranked all three.

It seems that Steve has always been the one to lead their little trio, and when the smell of dinner lures him and Bucky down you include them in the conversation. Bucky, whose scent is oranges and cedar wood, is more chatty and flirty than Steve is but there’s this quiet strength about Steve that’s impossible not to notice.

Sam goes to bed immediately after dinner but Steve and Bucky stay up and watch the news with you. You set the coffee machine for Sam and leave him a note to help himself to anything he wants to eat. Then you bring Cooper outside, he wanders your wildfire lit backyard, the orange glow is spooky and the smell of smoke is thick in the air.

“Come on Coop, it’s bedtime.” You tell him leading him to the living room. Both Steve and Bucky are gone so you change into your pajamas and get ready for bed in the bathroom then head back to the couch where Cooper is laying dead center. “Move it Coop.” He grumbles but gets down, once you’re settled you let him back up on the couch between your feet.

You wake up as Sam closes the fridge.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you.” He says softly. When he turns and sees you sitting up on the couch.

“No it’s okay.” You tell him as Cooper hops off of the couch. You follow him to the back door and let him out.

“Why are you sleeping on the couch?”

“They needed three more beds so I gave them three more beds.”

“We put you out of your room?” He asks with a small frown.

“I sleep more on the couch anyway, I usually fall asleep to one baking show or another.” You tell him with a sleepy smile, you hadn’t meant to tell them they’d taken all your beds but it was too late now.

“This is your home.”

“Seriously Sam don’t worry about it.” You say letting Cooper back into the house. “Be safe.”

“Thanks.” He says and you go back to bed on the couch.

The next time you wake it’s 9:00 and you want to make sure that you’ve got something ready for Bucky and Steve for breakfast so you get up. You feed Cooper then let him out again, if there wasn’t the fire you’d let him stay outside as long as he wanted. You sit down on the couch and pull your tablet into your lap. Cooper joins you on the couch as you start to draw your characters.

“Morning.” Steve’s voice is low and soft when he greets you.

“Good morning. There are pancakes, scrambled eggs, hash browns and bacon in the oven. The pans will be warm.”

“Thanks,” you hear him help himself to food and coffee then he comes out into the living room. “Do you mind if I join you?”

“Not at all. Don’t let Coop fool you into any food though.”

“No people food for him?”

“Just some fruit and veggies.” You tell him glancing up at the fire captain. “So Sam said you guys were on a 4-10-4 start time but what time are you all home?”

“We’re doing 12 hour shifts, so Sam and Buck don’t overlap but I will with both.”

“Okay, I’ll have dinner ready when you get back. Is there anything that I don’t have that you need? Sam said you liked a certain flavor of creamer.”

“The French vanilla is fine.”

“He said caramel?” You glance over at him again and he has this little shy smile on his face. “I don’t mind, I need to go get groceries anyway.”

“Caramel is my favorite.” He admits and you nod then get back to your drawing. He finishes his breakfast in silence then puts his dishes into the dishwasher, Steve heads back upstairs and you hear him finish getting ready before he comes back down.

“Be safe.”

“Thanks.” He says before closing the door softly behind him.

Bucky sleeps until almost noon, you’ve taken breakfast out of the oven and put it in the fridge. He somehow looks groggy still and you’re worried he didn’t sleep well.

“Good morning.”

“Morning. How are you?” His voice is low and husky.

“Good. Did you sleep okay?”

“Yea I slept great. I could still be asleep to be honest but I might get called in early.”

“Why?”

“There are less guys at base camp right now. Apparently a group of them had some trouble on the way? I don’t know but Steve called.”

“Breakfast is in the fridge if you wanna heat it otherwise I have lunch meat and stuff for sandwiches.”

“I love breakfast food.” He says making his way to the fridge. He starts a cup of coffee then opens the fridge.

You find out that Bucky is a chatter. Which is fine but you’re glad that you’re illustrating today rather than writing because there’s no way you’d be able to focus on writing. He asks you about living in the small town, how you ended up here, about your job, when he finds out you’re an author and illustrator of children’s books he promises to buy his niece a couple books. You tell him to leave his address and you’ll send him a signed copy of the one you’re working on, he excitedly does.

When he leaves at 3:30, not being called in early, you take a break and start on dinner. You want to make sure you’ve got food ready for Sam when he gets back.

Sam comes in at 4:45, Cooper barks excitedly and Sam sinks to the ground and Cooper immediately calms allowing Sam to wrap his arms around him. You don’t say anything, just continue to cook while Sam hugs Cooper to him. You hear him talking softly but you ignore him, whatever he’s saying to Coop is none of your business.

“I’m gonna go take a shower before I eat.” Sam says at full volume, the side of his face still pressed to Cooper’s side.

“That’s fine,” you assure him, “I’ve got about twenty minutes before the rice is done.”

“Okay.” He disappears then Cooper comes wandering into the kitchen. You give him a couple of treats and tell him what a good boy he is.

Sam eats in silence then goes up to his room, you’re pretty sure he goes to bed by 7 but after the day he’s had you can’t blame him.

At 10 you start reheating food for when Steve comes in. Sure enough, 10:30 rolls in and so does Steve. Cooper greets Steve with a wagging tail, Steve gives him a little pat and heads upstairs. You hear the shower turn on and after around 10 minutes Steve is back dropping down on the couch as Cooper puts a head in his lap. Steve absently pets Cooper and you place a plate of food in front of him.

“Thank you.” His tired eyes meet yours and he gives you a little half smile.

“It’s the least I can do.” You tell him sincerely. Cooper stays with his head in Steve’s lap until Steve goes upstairs to bed. You set up your bed on the couch and set your alarm for 3:30 in the morning so you can get food heated for Bucky and coffee and food started for Sam.

You fall asleep still smelling Steve on your couch.

Tag list:

@memyselfandmaddox @thefanficfaerie @patzammit @dsakita @dramadreamer14 @killcomet @thesassmisstress @andahugaroundtheneck @loving-life-my-way @thefridgeismybestie @dumblani @im-just-another-monster @mywinterwolf @giggleberts @biskwitmamaw @geeksareunique @paintballkid711 @lumar014 @also-fangirlinsweden @connie326 @inkedaztec @eralen @valsworldofcreativity @strangersstranger

[sparkbeast20]

The Pain of Love (Lucifer X MC)

The Blue Lotus petals

As a fan of Beauty and the Beast, Showing your “true self” to Lover or (Monster Love) Tropes. I figure to make a (More Demonic Forms AU/head canon) story for each brothers. heads up each brother’s Story is long as fuck. So, I'll be posting them as parts and finishing one brother before moving on to the rest of them. (tell me if you want tag)

Warning: Before and after Sex but no depiction of sex sorry I don't know how to write smut, The other six kinda being torture

“Yeah, I do hear the eerie voices in this one” you were laying in the couch in Lucifer’s study, while listening to one of his curse records.

“Just make sure you don’t listen to the end, you might get nightmares, we don’t need two insomniacs in our bed.” All the while Lucifer is doing some early paper work before breakfast. You just came along with him, because you couldn’t go back to sleep.

“We wouldn’t even have one, if a certain demon learns to sleep within 8 hours” he chuckles at your poor attempt of a sley comment.

“I’ll take full advantage of this morning, since we don’t class today, that way we have the entire afternoon together”

“Promise!”

“I Promise, now cut the record, the end is approaching”

You lifted the nailed, the you sat up and stretch your arms before standing up and walk over to Lucifer, you wrap your arms around is shoulders, lean forward and kiss the top of his head. He hums at your presents.

You move down and whisper in his ear. “You want some coffee, Lucifer” you pulled away to meet his sight, he nods with a smirk on his face, then you let go and start walking up the stairs. As you about to turn the knob, he calls to you.

“Y/n, as of today no more, blue lotus petals in my coffee for now on.”

“Okay, anything else?”

“Just make sure it’s bitter, okay love” with that you gave him a playful smile and left.

“Oh sweet, yer making coffee, mind make me one too” Mammon just steps in the kitchen, happy to smell coffee in the air.

“You can have mine, I really only made for me and Lucifer” you tell him that, while waiting for the coffee to get ready.

“So, his up all ready what’s he doing now.” Mammon asks while his digging through the cabins for something.

“Finishing some bills, this month’s plan actives for RAD, and the house budgets” you answer as you pour the two mugs with coffee.

“Should I start running now or pray that none of those bills are mine”

“Just wait in an hour to see” you smile at him, you fully know that he needs to hide now, as you pass him the mug of coffee. He took it with uncertain look on his face and drop two blue petals in his coffee.

“Hey, you forgot these” you’re at the doorway, when you turn around with coffee in hand to see Mammon holding up the blue lotus petals.

“Lucifer said no more petals in his coffee”

“What!”

“Something wrong?” after a moment Mammon shake his head, tells you it’s nothing, you shrug your shoulder and walk back to Lucifer.

“Oh… Y/n, be a doll and untie us” Asmo calls to make you to look up into the ceiling to see Mammon, Levi, Satan with cloth in his mouth, Asmo, and Belphie who also have a cloth in his mouth, Strang up by their legs.

“Let me guess, one could stop ordering online, the two of you try to sneak out late in a school night, and the last two pull something that piss of the eldest” you said nonchalantly, causing Satan to violently flail, Mammon and Levi crying.

Asmo tries to fix his head to look at you properly, bashing his eye lash to soften up to you “Oh come on, you know us this is what we are, haven’t you notice that Lucifer has been a little~”

“Strict lately” you finish what he was about to say, Asmo pouts with his lower lip stick out and look at you with sad puppy eyes begging you to untie them.

In your mind, you want to untie them but remembering what Lucifer said “don’t cave to them, understand” cause you to hesitate. When all of the sudden the door slam open, causing you to turn around to see Lucifer in his demon form, dragging a tie up Beel, the latter which is sobbing.

Hearing his twin sobbing wakes up Belphie who start to flail around like Satan.

You don’t why, but you started to turn redder, you can feel the heat rushing through your face. Maybe Seeing Lucifer dragging Beel with one arm and dominant look on his face makes you want to hold him tight and cuddle into his chest.

While you just standing there awestruck, Lucifer manage to Strang up Beel next to Belphie.

“Oi Y/n, tell Lucifer that is gone too far” Mammon calls out to you

“Y-yeah, out of any of us Beel does have to Strang like this” Levi adds to Mammon call, while Belphie mummer through the cloth to grab your attention.

“Enough, Beelzebub is only going Strang up for 2 hours. For empty the fridge 2 days straight and all of you just have to wait 6 more hours depending on who has the least offense” Lucifer tells his brothers with a booming voice, then all of them started to yell, cry, and/or mummer at him.

He was about to yell, when all of the sudden you hug him and bury you face into chest, seeing your action shock the brothers.

Without looking away from his brothers, place one arm on your back drawing you closer. You look up at his face with your eyes of filled with lust and your face with red through your cheek.

He looks down, a smile creep up on his face, he cups your face drawing it closer to his.

Then you pouch kissing him like untamed animal, wrapping your arms around his neck not letting him pull away, as his arms rub around your back, one hand on your shoulder while the other one is on your waist.

Seeing you two practically eating each, the brothers watch in horror, Mammon and Levi are screaming in agony, Satan and Belphie try to look away but couldn’t, and Asmo and Beel are mortifed.

Hearing his brothers in pain, cause Lucifer to growl aggressively in pleasure, then he sweeps you off your feet while you two are still kissing taking you somewhere private, as you two slowly walk away to savior the screams, you slowly pull-out foldable knife that Mammon gave to you from your pocket and throw it at Beel, seeing the knife Beel swing forward and catch the knife with his teeth, and hums in happiness for catching it, then Lucifer slam the door closes.

“I’m hungry” Beel sitting in the dinning room groaning in pain, with the rest of the brothers still recover from Lucifer’s punishment.

Mammon, Levi, Satan, and Asmo rub their neck, arms and legs to less the street on them, while Belphie is collapse on the table awake.

“S-so which one of us want to asks Lucifer M-money for dinner” Levi asks around to who’s brave enough to go Lucifer’s room and asks him.

“Are you mad! I would rather use my own money, then going to that monster right now” Mammon yell at Levi, for suggesting that.

“I want to pull out my eyes and burn them” Satan talk to himself, trying to forget what he had to watch helpless.

Then foot steps can be heard, causing the brothers stiff in place except for Levi who hide under the table.

Not even at the doorway you start talking to them “So Lucifer asks me to give you money for take-out, and tell all of you that we’ll be skipping dinner too”

Asmo back to his cheerful self, wanting to know what drove you into acting like him ask while waiting for you to come inside the room, both hands under his chin and elbows rest on the table with his eyes gleefully close.

“Oh, are you and my big brother done~” before he could finish his question, he turns to the doorway and open his eyes to see you.

His eyes widen as he let out shock gasp, causing the rest to look up and did the same thing.

You were barely standing wearing Lucifer’s robe and nothing else, dark hand grips around both of your wrists, your almost expose chest is covered in hickeys, bite marks and three visible claw marks. And your messy hair is covered your face.

With a goofy smile, you slowly walk over to the table and place half stack of grimms on it, then slowly walk out the room leave the brothers stunned.

After a few minutes of complete silent, Mammon remembering something, cause him to yelp to himself, knowing fully well that there are royal screwed for the coming weeks.

[one-piece-aus]

The Seven Caretakers of the Smol Strawhats AU (Heacanons) [Part 2]

The Simp Mom

I’m just saying this now

Boa ain’t going to acknowledge any children unless Luffy wants her to

Her concern is for Luffy, and Luffy alone

All the children can do whatever for all she cares

So whatever Luffy wants, that is her top priority

He wants meat? She going to cook the finest meat for him

He wants to hear a story? She’s going to tell him his favourite stories

He wants to play tag? She’ll gladly run around the place for him

He wants Doffy’s baked goods before they finished cooling off? Hancock is already on her way to kick Mingo’s ass for not letting Luffy have the sweets

Hancock spoils Luffy

She will buy him anything he wants

Which is mostly just food

But he’ll also want pirate merchandise

So she buys him that

She loves to tuck Luffy into bed at night and listen to his rambling of his dreams until the boy falls asleep

I can imagine her seeing one of Luffy’s plushies falling on the floor and she picks it up and gently places it next to Luffy

Boa will get up extra early in the morning to prepare breakfast for Luffy

But also ends up making enough breakfast for everyone else

Hancock is the only one who refuses Sanji’s help in the kitchen and claims she’s capable of making breakfast herself

And she is the only one who can go wake Luffy up

She will be furious if anyone dares disturbs Luffy from his slumber

However, this doesn’t stop the children from waking him up if they want to play

If she catches them in the act then they’ll be scolded

But if Luffy is already up and running around with a smile on his face, she’ll quickly forget that she didn’t wake him up

She definitely would want to dress Luffy up but she won’t if he doesn’t want her to

The girls might want her to dress them up but she doesn’t pay any mind to them unless Luffy wants her to

She’s mainly only here for Luffy

And is extremely defensive

“How dare you yell at Luffy like that you- oh Luffy, you want some more food? I’ll go get you some”

Boa is definitely one of those proud soccer moms that will fight the referee

Papa Bear

He is a soft quiet dad

Is a good listener

Like Doffy, he’ll sit down and watch them play

If the kids wanna go out to the park or go walk around, he’ll accompany them

He carries their stuff around so they can run around and play

Because of his gentle nature and calm nature, he is able to lure animals so the straw hats can pet them

Like a bunny or a deer

Just don’t make any sudden moves

Butterflies have landed on his hand before and it won’t be the last time

Kuma is the one that makes sure the children have everything they need before going out

And is the one to pick them up from school

Or activities if one of the other warlords couldn’t do it

He is the one the other caretakers turn to when they need a break from the children

Kuma doesn’t mind, he’ll gladly keep them out of trouble while the others take a much-needed break

Comfy clothing

This bear will make sure the straw hats have comfortable clothes to wear

If not, to shopping we go

Everyone has a least one hoodie from Kuma

Even the other Warlords

Please wear it at least once a week, he’ll be sad if you don’t and it shows even if his face is stoic

I don’t really see Kuma having a favourite

He loves and appreciates them all the same

Kuma gives headpats

You can not tell me otherwise

Whenever he’s proud of one of the smol children he’ll give them a headpat of ruffle their hair

If he receives a drawing, he will hang it up on the fridge

And if the fridge is too crowded

Which 90% of the time it is, despite the kitchen having 4 of them

The drawing will be hung on the wall in his room

Speaking of the kitchen, Kuma likes to make classic home-cooked meals

He makes the best beef stew and everyone loved it

It’s delicious

Everyone always looks forward to his homemade dinners

When bedtime comes, Kuma tucks them in if the others haven’t already done so

He’ll make sure they have their favourite plushie with them to sleep

If any of them have a nightmare, don’t worry

Papa bear is by the fireplace reading a book, they can come join him

Yeah, he can’t sleep since he’s half machine, not completely thankfully, so he still got emotions

Kuma will give them a bear hug and reassure them that it was just a dream

He won’t mind if they stay there and fall asleep

Better to know they’re safe

One morning the other warlords woke up and found all the smol straw hats asleep on the couch cuddle close to Kuma

It was an adorable sight

Doflamingo took a picture and it is now in the photo album

This papa bear will make sure his children are safe

If anyone is deemed to be someone harmful to the children, well…

“If there is a place you would never want to visit, what would it be?”

Casually pulls off the glove

Spooky Dad

Not a goth dad, no he’s a spooky one

And his ghost princess Perona is already here

The fact that Mihawk is now Perona’s goth dad creates tension between the two warlords because Perona was Moria’s daughter first

Moria is a lazy fellow so any tasks that requires taking care of the children

That job goes to his shadows

Fetching toys

Cleaning up messes

Getting drinks

He has the zombies do that

Which means Hildon is here, yay :3

This also means that none of the other warlords have to worry about doing chores

Which is great because that means they can focus on the straw hats

It’s a good thing Moria is here

That said, Moria isn’t going to be cooking or baking

Too much work for the guy

But he would taste test anything Sanji creates if he is nearby when the little blond is cooking

He would also use his shadow to steal some of Doffy’s desserts for Perona

Yes, Perona is his favourite as she is the ghost princess of the spooky king himself

He does brush her hair

The other two favourites he would probably have are Robin and Brook because of their spooky nature

Robin likes dark humour and to read

Brook is fascinated with skeletons and other monsters as well as having a love for playing the violin and can also play the piano

It’s perfect

He loves these spooky children

Moria would definitely spoil the children with gifts and toys

Most of the plushies were bought from him

The sight of them hugging their plushes just warms his undead heart

Moria’s room is on the goth side of the home

As well as his zombie servant quarters

That side is being rumoured to be haunted but as it turns out, it’s just Moria’s shadows and Perona’s ghosts

He IS the one to take all the children out for Trick or Treating

They hit up every house in the neighbourhood

Is totally on board for scaring the living shit out of people who don’t give them candy

So you better give the straw hats candy

The zombies are totally decorating their home with the spookiest decorations

Only the brave kids go up to the place after the manor is decorated

This undead man doesn’t even need a costume

But he makes sure the kids get them

THEY WILL NOT BE STORE BOUGHT COSTUMES

He’ll get his zombies to make custom ones

Only the best for the spooky holiday

And candy

Oh, you know what, I think Moria would make candy

Yeah, he makes homemade Halloween candy for the children

They’re delicious

Oh! And candy apples!

Okay, any Halloween related sweets is what he makes

How can he deny making the food of Hallow’s Eve

I can definitely see him watching The Nightmare Before Christmas with the children after they come home from trick or treating

May or may not do exactly what Jack did

If anyone, and I mean ANYONE, dares makes his precious children cry

Well they better say goodbye to the sun and their shadow

"I think it's a about time I have another shadow added to the collection"

The Strawhat Fish Dad!

He's the most responsible one out of them all

Not to say the others aren't responsible

But Jinbei is the one to really take the role of a parent

Will calmly teach the kids what's right and what's wrong

Give them lectures when they've done something wrong

Making sure no one eats too many sweets or junk food

He breaks up fights between the children

Which is almost every hour

However, he's not the one grounding them

Actually, he and Kuma are the only ones who don't ground the kids

But if they're grounded he's not going to help them get out of it

And he'll also have to stop the others from doing so

Especially Hancock

Jinbei has to stop her from spoiling Luffy so much

At least the others don't go too far when they spoil the kids

Responbilites aside

He's actually a fun and loveable dad to be around

Always open for hugs

Will be proud of any of the children's achievements

Jinbei is Franky's favourite because he reminds him of Tom

And they can go swimming together

Franky loves swimming

Fishmen are the best

But even if Jinbei asks he'll still refuse to wear pants

Shopping wise, I think the Fishman would be the one to buy them summer wear

Most of it is ocean themed

He would take the children to the beach

Only when it's not crowded though so he can keep a better eye on everyone

Is totally up for any beach activities

Building sandcastles, collecting seashells, swimming, etc.

Seafood

That's what Jinbei cooks and he's an expert at making

Grilled, fried, baked, you name it

Plus it's healthy to eat

That's an added bonus

Of course he lets Sanji help

He's happy that the boy has taken an interest in cooking

Speaking of interests

Jinbei teaches fighting techniques to the kids

I can see him letting them spare against each other

As long as it doesn't get too serious

No one is going to get injured

But yeah, he wants them to grow up strong and able to handle themselves

Though he doesn't want them to get into trouble

He'll be embarrassed if it happens in public

And will apologize

However, if a Karen is complaining about the straw hats for being themselves

Jinbei won't be happy about it

He gets up and confronts her

"Ma'am I suggest you leave, this is not a place for judgement."

He's an adult, he talks in a civilized matter

No one is going to talk bad about the children

Link to [Part 1]