#there's still plenty more colours on him of course. especially with all of his other games versions

[batxcastlesociety]

my actual favourite colours

[cosmal]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐍𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 — 𝐉𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐏𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫

summary — james, as nervous as he is, kisses you at midnight on new years eve.

warnings/tags — fem!reader, alcohol consumption

Tonight is the night. James swears of it.

He's not sure how he'll make it work, but he usually does, so he will. Granted, he's had plenty of turndowns in his life, and not enough fingers to count them on. But, he's almost certain you like him. The feeling he gets when he's around you is enough clarity to put him at ease, though sometimes it morphs into a number of nerves that he thinks it's all in his head.

But he really thinks he might kiss you tonight.

You cling to him the entire night. Half of him doesn't know why because all your friends are here, though you're not rude because you still stay close even when you're rambling about everything with Lily. The other half of him, at the idea of you wanting to be by his side, has him swelling with adoration and his ego grows tenfold.

23:49. He's still sober enough to read the clock on the wall. He's spent the entire day on squash and enough pints to drop a toddler. If he stays sober just so he can't stuff up the night, he keeps it to himself. Though, Sirius notices because, of course, he does.

"I've never seen you this sober at a new year's party, mate."

On the other hand, Sirius is just as drunk as expected - fortunately for James. If everything goes to shit tonight (which James half expects because you make him more nervous than anyone has ever) the only people who will remember are him and, unfortunately, you.

"Lovely," he murmurs, only because you're so close, into your ear. He's selfishly loving it. More when he watches you shiver.

Your conversation with Alice fades off slowly and you turn to him with a little hum. He traces the edge of your lips and takes in the colour of your lipgloss. He expects a matching mark to be swatched around your glass. Then, like he has been most of the night, traces the silver glitter over your sticky eyelids, the extra length of your soft eyelashes. If he's been obvious about it this whole time, he doesn't care.

"Do you want a drink?" he asks, pressing his knuckles into the skin above your tights. He's pushing his luck, he knows it, and if he thought you'd want him to stop, he would. But then you're wrapping your hand over his where it's at your thigh and you smile. It's shy, barely there, James loves it all the same.

"Yeah, c'mon." You eagerly stand from the booth and tug James up with you.

He has no problems when you lead him through the crowd. Still, he keeps a hand up your arm to shield you from rowdy patrons.

You get to the bar and James says, "I was offering to go get you a drink."

"And leave me in the booth?"

James has half the mind in him to not mention that there are eight other people at your table. You giggle knowingly.

"Right." He nods like it makes any sense.

"What are you having?"

"Whatever you choose." He says because he can.

You order two of the same drinks. Two cosmopolitans with extra lime. The glass is wet and awkward to hold, thin and its stem way too small to hold in his big hands. Still, he sips at it with no qualms because he won't act like he's above a cocktail. In fact, he loves them. Especially when you reach your hand across to wipe the line of pink from his top lip.

When you reach back to your table, everyone's shuffled down. The spot you and James had been cramped into only big enough for one.

With your mouth around the rim of your glass, you offer James the seat with a smile.

"You take it."

"It's okay," you say now, licking stickiness from your thumb.

"Y/N," he frowns.

You frown back. It's more adorable than his. "Sit."

James thinks it might be easier not to argue with you. He sits, unwillingly he wants to add, but it's worth it when you move to his side and place a hand in his hair.

You twist soft locks around your fingers, your hand a warmth he loves more than he would ever admit to anyone. He's glad Sirius and Remus are too busy loving each other in the other corner of the booth. He loves it so much he has to hide his giddy smile in his drink.

The new year is quickly approaching and the pub starts to fill. Most people have their arms linked through someone else's, their lips excitedly pressed to others' cheeks. James grows nervous suddenly. More than he has been since he got here.

He second-guesses every choice he's made tonight up until this moment. He's not entirely sure if you'd want to kiss him (like your lovesick giggles and your hand in his hair isn't enough to prove anything to him). He distracts himself with his sweet drink and thinks, stupidly, he'll see how the next five minutes play out.

Everyone in the pub circle around the TV above the bar, like sardines, pushed snugly up against each other. You press really close into his shoulder until he can feel the bump of your stomach. He worries for you for a moment and looks up over your arm. You smile until someone knocks you into his lap.

You startle and James wraps his arms around your back to stop you from toppling off of him. He's gentle with his touch, barely grazing you. Still, it burns.

"Sorry," you say loudly. Everyone shifts to excited yelling. Standing from their seats, drinks in hand.

You don't show that you want to get up. James isn't sure if this makes him feel better or worse.

The cheering gets louder as the clock ticks over to one minute from midnight. James isn't sure you'll be able to hear him. He's not even sure that he has the courage to say anything at all. Until your hands come forward to wrap around the lapels of his jacket to stable yourself. You don't tug him forward but he leans in anyways.

"Do you," he yells, but he still stammers. If it was bright enough inside he's sure you'd be able to see the blush creeping up his cheeks. "Are you kissing anyone at midnight?"

You smile. So wide that he can hear the thump of his heart over the rowdy atmosphere. "I'm not sure yet. Are you?"

James straightens his back out and you shuffle in his lap. He's feeling pretty lucky. "Maybe!"

The crowd begins the countdown. He leans in and waits for any sign that you want to back out. Like you aren't in his lap. Like this isn't the first time any of this has happened. Granted, this time he thinks he's actually going to kiss you.

James is in his head and he'd be stupid to think you'd not notice. "James!" 7! 6! 5! "Are you gonna kiss me?" It's louder. He still knows you're giggling.

"Fuck," he murmurs to himself, leaning forwards. "Can I?"

You kiss him. You actually kiss him. Right on midnight. Everyone who isn't eating someone else's face cheers. It sets him on fire. Your lips up against his. Soft and tender just like he expected. James squeezes his eyes so hard he sees stars. Brighter than the fireworks he'd expect to see if he wasn't having the best time of his life right now.

He's still buzzing when you pull away. Smiling because he can't help it.

"Happy," James blushes, smiling into the side of his hand when he turns his face away, "happy new year, Y/N."

You're so close James can still feel your breath. It fans over his lips and makes the heat he feels worse. In the best way possible. "Happy new year, James."

James thinks it's the happiest new year he's ever had. In a total adoring and cheesy way. It's even better when you lean in to kiss him again.

[medu-nefer]

y'all seemed to quite like the little crocheted ruthari (TY 💘) so i thought maybe some of you would be interested in a few close-ups 👀

(i added some crocheter rambling so feel free to just click on the photo and swipe to skip all that)

i also throught perhaps @careful-silent-still and @hypherr would like to see them too? 👉👈

so. first up, runaan. he has wire inside so he has some degree of movement, but he's also quite stuffed and the movement is unfortunately limited

i've been crocheting for a year, so the idea of coming up with my own patterns for his clothes was terrifying. therefore, i ended up doing just his boots, pants and the vest (it's hot in the silvergrove this time of the year, he doesn't need the shirt or the coat ���), plus of course the horn cuffs. all accesories are removable of course. the original idea for the pendant was for it to be just one strand with a loop at the end but it didn't look good at all so i switched to something way simpler and more effective)

i suck at embroidery and i hate it but what can you do 🫠

so i made runaan first and he was going to be a little birthday gift to myself, but ofc it'd be criminal to make only him and the plan has always been to make him a little ethari too. i finished him on the 5th so i guess it all ended up being a gift for him 🤣

once i saw his turnarounds, though, it took me quite some time to hype myself up to actually start making him, because it's so many different clothes with no existing patterns and they're all so detailed (runaan's were too but i had gained some confidence while making him and wanted to work on ethari properly) 😩 still, i somehow did it.

i did change the flap of fabric hanging from his belt as i had no way of making a smooth ombre transition from purple to dark turquoise like he actually has it - so instead of 2 jarring colours, it's 4 jarring colours 😂 and i also didn't do the embroidery on that part and it made me very happy - especially since there was plenty of embroidery i couldn't skip

and just like with runaan, all of his articles of clothing are removable (the flap is sewn onto the belt, and the green patches are sewn onto the boots but other than that, everything is separate)

there is, however, one issue 😅 i think it stems from a couple of choices i made: 1. i used a different, slightly thicker type of yarn for ethari's body than i did for runaan; 2. i used a 3,0 mm hook instead of 2,5 mm; and 3. i messed up the patterns for ethari's limbs (i did them in rounds instead of rows; it was late and i was tired and by the time i realised that, i was on the 3rd one & couldn't be bothered to scrap them all - which i probably should have done XD oh well).

the first 2 choices were deliberate as ethari is canonically a little bit taller than runaan, but umm...

let's just assume elves grow until they're 40 or so, and so after 2 years in the coin, runaan stayed behind 😅

oh, and i also wanted them to be able to hold hands so they have magnets in their hands but in the end, they weren't strong enough to still work through two layers of yarn ☹️ i guess i could still use a little clasp but we'll see about that

so yeah. here they are 😊

P.S. please enjoy runaan at his baby yoda phase:

[sleepingdeath-light]

madeleine cookie smut hcs ; 18+

requested by ; anonymous (17/05/23)

fandom(s) ; cookie run

fandom masterlist(s) ; hub | specific

character(s) ; madeleine cookie

outline ; “if youre ok with it: madeleine smut headcannons? (im 19 btw)”

warning(s) ; sexually explicit content, dom!madeleine cookie, clothed sex, praise kink, lingerie kink, oral sex, mild implied size kink

minors and ageless blogs will be blocked

for as conceited as he may come across to others, madeleine cookie is nothing short of a complete gentleman in bed — a soft dominant who intends to take care of you whilst getting you off (and, of course, bragging about how good he’s making you feel and how talented he is with his hands, and mouth, and cock — some things never change)

he loves being praised in the bedroom — compliment his dick, tell him that he/what he’s doing feels good, beg him to keep going, get more vocal and reward him with as many sounds as possible (moans, groans, cusses, gasps, anything really he’s not picky) — and if you do that when he’s going down on you then he’ll start moaning and grinding down onto the bed to relieve the ache between his legs

he enjoys the subtle power imbalance of fucking you when you’re nude/very close to nude and he’s mostly clothed — bonus points if that involves you fully naked spread out on his bed whilst his face is between your legs and he’s fully clothed in his nightwear, or he’s got you sat on a table/counter in just his shirt and he’s making love to you whilst wearing all (or the vast majority of) his uniform before he goes out to serve the republic

that being said, he also loves seeing you all dressed up for him, especially if you’re wearing something that’s fancy, intricate, and in his family colours — whether that’s wearing outright lingerie when you greet him in your bedroom, or just putting on some tastefully fitted clothing when the two of you go out on a date (though, either way, you will be stuffed full by the end of the night)

whenever he goes down on you he’ll tie his hair back and out of the way just to make things easier for you both, but his position will change depending on your anatomy — i.e. if you’re afab he prefers to lay on top of you and eat you out that way, but if you’re afab he prefers to kneel between your legs/in front of you with you sitting on the edge of a surface or standing

he also enjoys receiving oral sex but prefers giving it, so if you’re insistent on giving him an blow job then he’ll insist on mutual oral as a compromise — it’s not like the position is a struggle he’s plenty strong enough to hold you up no matter your weight

his favourite positions to have sex in always involve him looming over you in some way: missionary, sex on top of a table, bending you over a surface, mating press, etc. — he just likes feeling like he’s able to protect you when you’re having sex, really

he would never be up for anything like a threesome or public play as he sees both as indecent — he may be a bit adventurous with you when it comes to sex, but he’s still a paladin and a man of faith and there are some things that he just can’t bring himself to do (he also has a family reputation to uphold and he wouldn’t do anything to put his family name at risk of ridicule or shunning)

[softquietsteadylove]

thenamesh has rotted my brain so much that 4th of july fireworks spooking my dog obviously made me think of how thena would probably get spooked by them too — so of course i had to bring it to you as a prompt! maybe featuring our sweet jack and some comfort?

Thena squinted as yet another firework went off. Terrible, incessant things, she thought. They were loud and made a mess. But ever since their conception - for which they had all been present - humans loved them.

They had declined to attend the show at its source, mostly out of consideration for the Eternals and their heightened senses. Thena, especially, although she did offer to attend for Jack's sake.

In years past, Phastos and Ben had taken Jack to all of the typical Fourth of July festivities, as Americans wishing to take part in the celebrations. They went to the parade, they attended things in the city or had backyard activities at their home for the neighbours. They had also declined that, this year.

It was determined to be too much, the possibility of strange kids running around and screaming with water guns and sparklers. Phastos and Gil did cook on the grill just for them. They had all attempted to lure Jack outside with the promise of baseball and soccer and football. But all day, Jack was busy inside making a fort.

By this time it was taking up most of the living room, constructed with couch cushions and the futon from Phastos' home office and plenty of pillows and blankets. It was somewhat hard to navigate, but Jack was adamant that it not be disturbed all weekend. Thena had defended his magnum opus.

Another one went off, and even Ben and Phastos admired the twinkle of it, each with a beer in hand. Ben looked around their chairs all lined up on their back deck to see the display at a distance. "Jack?"

Phastos shook his head. "He's still working on that fort."

"He's missing the show," Ben frowned.

Gil leaned forward in his own chair, mindful of Thena in his lap. "We told him it was starting, but he said it was almost ready."

"Ready for what?"

None of them knew. Phastos was especially put out that his son was seemingly over the childhood wonder and joy of the fireworks show. "This is how it starts. Next, he's gonna be in his room all day and night and we'll never see him except-"

"Habibi," Ben chided his husband, reaching over and rubbing his hand. "We have discussed this."

"Yeah," Phastos sighed heavily, though, taking another swig of light beer. "Just wait, he's eleven now, but he'll be thirteen before we even know it."

Thena pressed her ear more firmly against Gil's chest as another one burst in the air. She blinked rapidly at the red colour of this one. She was doing respectably well, though. She had the odd moment of swearing she could smell gunpowder and smoke, but she could still correct herself. They weren't witnessing the slaughter of Tenochtitlan, they were visiting their brother's family in America.

Gilgamesh ran his hand over her hair, whispering soft nothings to her to help her weather the storm. "You sure you wanna do this? Jack isn't even here."

As with most other things, she had agreed for Jack's sake. She was still overly conscious of potentially ruining any fun for him because of the gentility with which she needed to navigate human life. Of course she would deny it, but it did melt her heart completely every time he showed concern for her state of mind.

She gripped the lapel of Gil's shirt, but nodded with her head under his chin. "I'm sure he'll join us. If I go inside, he'll just offer to keep me company."

Gil chuckled, kissing her temple. She was right, and he knew she was.

Phastos looked at his watch, "well, if he doesn't get out here he might miss the end of it."

Thena lifted her head from Gil's chest. "It is odd for him to be so reclusive. I'll find him."

Gil let his hand trail down her back as she lifted herself from his embrace. "If he doesn't wanna come out, you two can have fun in there."

She smiled at him, letting their hands drag apart reluctantly.

"Sure, if she goes he'll come right out. If I do it, it's 'Dad, I'm busy!'."

Thena ignored her brother's lamenting over his child's growing independence. She slid the patio door closed behind her. "Jack?"

"In here!"

She walked into the living room, finding the lamps were on, illuminating the truly impressive sprawl of the fort. She tilted her head before bending at the waist. "Jack?"

"Aunt Thena, in here," he whispered, a hand sticking out just to wave.

She crouched down, bending her knees in her skirt so she could crawl into the small tunnel leading to his domain. "Are you sure?"

"Yeah, it's finally ready!"

What was finally ready? Thena crawled on her hands and knees over the carpet and into the fort's main body. Never before - and never again - would she have to crawl like this. It was unbecoming of a warrior. But this was for her nephew.

"What do you think?"

It was actually quite remarkable. The far 'wall' actually was connected to the large window of the living room, offering a glimpse outside that looked in the direction of the city's epicentre. The rest of the fort was cushioned by thick blankets and using the plush structures of couches and chairs and automans.

"This is rather well done, Jack," she praised with a smile. He truly was a remarkable human--nothing short of brilliant, the son of the Fabricator Eternal.

"Here," he said gently, sitting himself on a pillow set up by the window. There was one beside him, which he patted for her. "The view is perfect."

"The view?"

But Jack was right. It was possible to see the more distant fireworks that were being displayed over the city harbour. They were more distant, therefore not as bright against the dark sky. And within the house, they were much quieter.

"Is this what you've been doing?" she asked as she watched the tiny but still beautiful display within the window.

He nodded, also watching, captivated. "Baba said there were two fireworks shows, this one just started."

She gave her young nephew a look, attempting to appear stern with his utterly adorable face. "Did you construct this just for me?"

"Well," he cast a sheepish glance to his sock feet, wiggling his toes and twisting his lips.

"Jack," she frowned. "You mustn't worry about me so much. You should be enjoying the fireworks with your fathers as intended."

He looked at her with big, pleading eyes, shrugging his shoulders. "But I can't have fun if I know you're scared."

She sighed. Such a sweet boy, with such a big, human heart. She put her hand on his head gently, not quite patting his head and not quite ruffling his hair. "It is not your place to quell my fears. And discomfort is not a fear."

He scooched a little closer to her pillow. "Can I tell you a secret?"

She nodded, leaning down for him to whisper to her, even within the protection of the fort. He moved her hair out of his way, his little hand feeling barely bigger than her ear.

"The fireworks are too loud for me, too. But I never wanted to say 'cause Dad and Baba like watching them."

She watched him sit back on his own pillow again. The thought crossed her mind if he was lying in order to spare her feelings, or her pride. But Jack wasn't a very good liar (she had seen him try to lie about reading comic books after bed time). "Is that so?"

He turned his attention back to the window. "We always go, ever since I was little. But it gets cold, and they're cool and all, but they kinda look the same except for the start and the end. And they're really loud if you're too close."

Thena looked away from the lights display to her brother's son. His maturity and knowledge of himself never ceased to impress her. She truly thought human children were less intelligent than this. Although it was possible Jack was an exception among human offspring. "And here I was, out there so that you wouldn't feel the need to stay inside with me."

He looked at her, illuminated by the far off show. "I like being inside with you."

She put her hand on his shoulder, allowing him to lean against her arm. "I like being inside with you too, Jack."

The boy went quiet, perhaps bashful of the quiet affection passing between them. But he made himself comfortable against her, as affectionately as a boy his age could allow.

She held back a laugh as she heard a small yawn escape him. "It has grown late."

"That's okay," he excused, although he was leaning more heavily on her by the second.

It was indeed late. The summer made the sun set so late that the fireworks couldn't start until rather close to Jack's bed time anyway. Thena moved her arm, allowing Jack to fold himself against her more comfortably. This was also something she never imagined herself doing as the Warrior Eternal. But as the boy's 'Aunt Thena', she would be quite capable of anything.

She continued watching the display, checking every few minutes if Jack's eyes were still open. Perhaps partway through the display, he was completely asleep. She ran her hand over his forehead, resolving not to move and disturb his sleep, no matter the cost.

[agena87]

📩 Simblr question of the day: Choose as many sims/ocs as you'd like for this question, What's something INCREDIBLY obscure and/or out-of-pocket about your sim/oc? Something that nobody (fellow sims and/or your followers and mutuals) knows 👀 (This could be things about their social skills, physicality and/or birth defects, or it could be something they vaguely remember, a dream they had that actually predicted the future, etc etc... whatever you come up with)

Oooooooh, I love this ask! I feel that I'll discover plenty of stuff about my characters 😃

---

In no specific order other than whatever pops into my mind first:

* The first "book" Jeb ever wrote was about twelve (short) sentences long, full of spelling & grammar errors, written in several colours in crayon, and called "Don't cry, mommy". He was eight.

* On a more happy note, Lukas and Max have been calling each other husband and wife since, when they were nine, Elsa "married" them during recess.

* Hugo & Mallory used to date, that's no secret. What is, is how they actually broke up (Hugo will kill me for telling this story). They had been dating for nearly two years, and never had sex (they did touch each other a bit before, though). After talking, and deciding they were both ready, they scheduled their first time. Hugo, the sweet boy he is, had even "studied" how to please his partner; he was determined to give Lory the best experience possible. And he did give her a good time. So good that Lory couldn't stop from moaning a name, but unfortunately it wasn't Hugo's, but Jacques's. And that's how Hugo discovered that his girlfriend had the hots for his father; worse, Lory was IN LOVE with Jacques. So, they broke up (and somehow remained friends).

*Strabismus is very common in the Landgraab family, especially among women. If you look closely to pics of them you'll notice that Clara, Sofia, Olivia, Teresa, and Joy have it to some degree. But not Nancy. That's because Queenie had her operated because she "had to be perfect".

* Willa got pregnant when she was sixteen, but she got an abortion because she wasn't ready to be a mom. Plus, the dad was a wanker who dumped her as soon as she told him he had knocked her up. She sometimes regrets her decision, as she wants plenty of kids (at least four), but she knows it was for the best. And she still has time.

* Mila owns a restaurant and has two Simichelin Stars. Hugo is her sous.

* I think I already said that Joy's mom was Holly Alto and that she died during childbirth. What I didn't say (I think), was that Holly was Malcolm's best friend (and regular "bed companion"), and that they only got married because Holly got pregnant. They loved each other but were never IN LOVE with each other.

* Jacques is a very enthusiastic and talented pussy-eater. Sorry, Lory took possession of me for an instant.

* Willa says that Mal is, too. THANK YOU, GIRLS, THAT'LL BE ENOUGH.

* Björn and Nancy used to date in high school, but her parents were against their relationship (a heiress such as Nancy shouldn't marry someone from a "poor" family). So, she married Geoffrey who always had a massive crush on her; he was cute and from a good family, so why not? Clara who had always been sweet on her older sister's boyfriend, saw her chance to finally have the boy she wanted (her parents couldn't care less about what she did, she was just a spare after all). Somehow Björn accepted to date her and later asked her to marry him (a long time later, she would understand that it was to stay close to Nancy without seeming suspicious).

* Nancy was already pregnant with Johnny when Geoffrey and her married. Of course, Geoff knew he wasn't his, since he and Nancy hadn't had sex before their wedding night (though now one other than them - and Björn - knew that), but he loved Nancy and thought that their wedding would put an end to Nancy and Björn affair (which... nope).

---

Aaaaaand, I'll stop here because it's starting to be a tad long.

[wanderer-w00lf]

This comic and my experience

Look, this one looks familiar.

Oh boy... this one is a long one.

Where do I start...?

Maybe you guys need a bit of context real quick. Some time ago, a user called, Play tops decided to gather a couple of artist and ask about making a comic all together for the fandom. I was part of them, and of course I said yes. Everything could be quite normal there, like, we made the comic and that's it... right? well...

He told us several times that he was gonna help too, but when we where distributing the works, there was always an excuse. At fisrt it was: "I don't have that software" well, I worked the fist pages in a software he told me he had, so he could help, but he didn't; then he would always answer with a solid "I don't how to do that", like:

Script? NO

Storyboard? NO

lineart/inking? NO

Colours? NO

He would always said that he was feeling "left out" while I tried everything to make him part of it, but he would always deny.

After a lot of negatives and weeks holding it, I was growing tired, and this guy started to say.

"I don't have time" as his excuse.

Now, I know we as artist usually don't have that much time, especially because most of us are in college or highschool, but, this kept prolonging for months.

And, you wanna guess something? I was busy too, yet still, I had to find time however I could to make some drawings because, With only studying is not enough. If I'm an artist i need to have art in my accounts and portfolio, so yeah, his excuses where making me feel like I was wasting time.

One day I simply decided It was enough.

You all don't know, because basically I haven't shared it yet, but I have a lot of other comics I did in the past that for one reason or another I never finished or plublished, right now I have a few of those in an undefined hiatus, so feeling yet another one was going into the exact same direction made me angry.

So basically I started to working without him. I made everything, storyboard, lineart, colour, text. I was determined to finish it just out of pure spite. Spite to whom? to life, to Play tops, to every "friend" who ask to work together to finally leave without any warning and or response. I did it out of pure spite because I was tired and this comic was not gonna be another comic I put into the drawer in an undefined hiatus. So yeah.

My good pal Renzo was the other guy who wanted to make the comic and he was the greatest moral support in all of this; he made the script obviously, but he made it clear to me that he could not help me in another way, but if he could he was gonna try, and that was more than what playtops was giving us. He did help me all the way.

It was hard, and even tho I enjoyed every page I finished, that made me feel even more frustrated, because, the three pages that took us like 5-6 months, where completely finished in a week, all by myself.

At the end I finally finished the two stories and the relief I felt was, overwhelming. I "returned" the projetc to playtops because if someone else wanted the sequel they had to ask him.

And that's the story.

I kinda decided to remain a bit anonymous because, well I didn't wanted the people to say I was "Stealing" Playtop's work, and because I didn't want to fight in social media. You all people are toxic AF.

This is not a cancel post or anything like that; this is more like:

A me venting everything.

I usually remain silent no matter what, because that's how I am.

But, if i'm venting right now it's because I indeed have a motive behind.

Basically what I'm asking here is... You all want this comic in Tumblr?

If you don't I still have a couple other things I'm working on. I love this fandom I still have plenty more ideas I want to make and share with all of you.

[deibreak]

@dynmghts asked:

katsuki had spent some time deliberating on what to get shoto this year; he didn't want it to be impractical, and he didn't want to be shown up by the others in what they get themselves. competitive, unyielding - katsuki wants it to be known that he did it better than everyone else.

so, katsuki begins his early morning start with hand-making shoto's favourite food from start to finish. cold soba is, theoretically, very easy, and it would've been easy enough to use store-bought soba noodles, but that was diminishing the value of this meal. he spends the extra time making them by hand - and they looked pretty damn good, too - before finishing the meal preparation and setting it up in a bowl.

besides the meal, katsuki had a few tangible gifts prepared for shoto, all neatly boxed and wrapped with a meticulous approach - because why the hell would he stop at just one? [ because of course, he's resolved to outdo everyone this year. ]

"right." katsuki guides poor shoto to the nearest surface, pushing him down by the shoulder so he might sit down. "sit down, shut up, take this." and with a little more grace, the blond hands over the cold soba he'd made, brushing off his hands. "eat. gimme a second, and don't move."

it takes him less than a few minutes to leave and return with the multiple gifts he's prepared for shoto, placing them down next to the other with a huff. "there." a pause. he supposes he's missing the most important thing - he hands over an envelope with a card inside, absent of fanfare, but with clear and precise handwriting. [ it's obvious that katsuki has put plenty of care into everything he's done leading up to this moment / the card wishes shoto well, says a courteous happy birthday, and despite its haste, there is a clear signing of katsuki's name at the bottom. ] "if anyone says they did better, i bet they're fucking lying."

and the gifts themselves? in one, katsuki opted for a pair of chopsticks, which katsuki got custom-made to mimic shoto's hero costume. there are a few other bits and pieces - a gift card for a place with good soba, some tools to help with different areas of training, even bits of hero merchandise ... [ because he knows that shoto is a quiet fan of all might, and the merch is subtle enough. ] ... but the most expensive of the lot was pretty evident.

and thus his final, and best gift, is a weighted blanket; deep blue in colour and very heavy, its tag indicates it as one of the more expensive and well-trusted brands, and its overall feel is meant to be warm and welcoming. he spent the longest trying to decide if shoto would even like it. [ but, in the end, he said fuck it and did it anyway. ]

"happy birthday... or whatever." / i'm sorry this is so long but happy bday shoto!

If Shoto hadn't checked his phone early in the morning, head still in a haze, wondering what the unusual number of messages was for, he wouldn't have remembered what day it was. Among everyone who wanted to wish him for his birthday, his friends and family, his father's contact made it on top of the list, desperate same as all his efforts to make up for the parent he had been. Bitter was the feeling the boy woke up with, and it was once again the same man's fault. Shoto had no plans to pay this day any attention — he had long given up on the idea of celebrating, and even if he recently had chosen to change (rebuild himself from scratch), remnants of the past, of memories he didn't want to recall connected to this day, made his expression more sour than usual, resembling the one he used to wear at the beginning of the school year.

That was, until he met with crimson gaze, welcoming in its own way, and with a promise he couldn't yet explain.

Silently he took seat as forced, eyes falling on the meal meant for him, already struggling to understand why the blond had gotten in this much trouble for him, for a day that held no actual special meaning (especially not for Katsuki, and neither for Shoto, having learnt to ignore it after years of disappointments). He didn't wait for long before he joined his hands in front of his chest, thanked him, and started eating. Perfectly made to his liking, resembling the cooking of his mother, the taste of it brought back forgotten memories of comfort. There was no way he could enjoy cold soba made by someone else's hand ever again. Could this have been his goal from the start?

His favorite meal so deliciously made was more than he could ever ask for, yet when the other came back carrying presents (like a second santa, only that he was harder to believe, even if the real deal), with his mouth full he stared with confusion at the gifts offered. All those couldn't be for him, right ? He was supposed to choose one of them, right ? Instead of answering his questions, the card given added to them. Shoto wasn't meant for such extreme kindness.

Couldn't Katsuki see it, him who saw through everything?

Many of their classmates appreciated him more than he deserved ( he wasn't being insecure, perfectly aware he hadn't earned their appreciation, hadn't yet tried hard enough to be worthy of all their friendship ), Katsuki being the last he expected to hear him wish for his birthday.

The gifts presented to him made his head momentarily blackout — overload, too much information for him to process. If he tried to count the gifts Shoto had received from the very beginning of his life to this day (christmas included), he wouldn't count as many as the ones the blond had prepared.

How heroic of Katsuki, as if trying to make up for the letdowns of many years — as if trying to erase all the memories that kept Shoto awake at nights with this blanket.

When he got his hands on it, Shoto stared at it for a long while, before burying his face on it. Awkward was the sight of him, to anyone who didn't know him well. The feel of the blanket, he wanted to test, sleep being his biggest comfort ( had Katsuki noticed? ), even if often a challenge. His comfort, when all his days were focused on training alone, and sleep was his only time for rest — his only escape. It was soft, warm, and heavy ( just like the feel the blond gave him whenever they spent time together ). A perfectly chosen gift, matching them both.

His presence alone was a gift. Somehow, Shoto's luck seemed to have changed. From spending the biggest part of his life lost in the darkness, suddenly surrounded by such warm light he'd be, heart-warming, an inexhaustible source standing before him, allowing him to stay close. How lucky . . .

Katsuki had won his bet, long before Shoto's birthday came. For being the only one who'd make him smile with ease, when for long he had forgotten how. For easing him through all his anxieties, with his raw honesty diminishing them to their actual value. For showing him how to care deeply, when he'd once look down upon everyone.

Still learning to give voice to his heart, overwhelmed by excitement he'd find no words to describe his feelings. It was happening more often these days, the more his heart opened up to emotions unknown, the harder he worked to understand himself, but mostly to understand those he cared for. ❝ I have no words. ❞ Maybe the truth was the answer. Katsuki would forgive him, wouldn't he? He was the same after all, relying on actions rather than words. Shoto's face had changed color to a deep shade of red, unfamiliar as he was to be treated with such care.

❝ Thank you. ❞ For caring. For being his dear friend. ❝ This is the best. ❞ The best of presents. The best of birthdays. ❝ You're a wonderful friend. ❞

[fluffykitteninabox]

¿What are your thoughts on the controversial Hagakure cover?

Hi cute question mark anon ✨✨✨

I don't think this is a separate issue from how Horikoshi handles his female characters in general so I'm going to talk more generally rant a bit (oops sorry)

also one reason this took so long is that I decided to join in the trend and gave the poor girl some clothes:

The sexualisation of female characters in anime and manga is a big issue, especially when a big portion of them are underage (shonen is the most popular genre after all).

In my hero academia we see this with basically every single female character Horikoshi creates.

Momo, Hagakure, Himiko and Midnight all have "excuses" by the story to get naked on screen regularly. Supposedly it's because of their quirks, however there's plenty of male characters who's clothes don't get destroyed in every fight they're in, even if it would logically make sense for that to happen.

Male characters get to keep their dignity, but females don't get that same privilege.

The only male character that we see get fully naked because of their quirk is Mirio, but that's only one instance, and in every scene after that we get the explanation that he got a special costume made from his hair. If that's an option for him, why isn't it for Hagakure? Why does she have to run around naked in battle? Why do we need "jokes" about others accidentally touching her boobs because they didn't see her? We don't need that, she's a teenager!

Then there's Momo's design which is not only disgusting, but also doesn't make logical sense either. Supposedly the opening at the front is for practicality.

She "needs" to have big areas of skin open to make bigger objects.

Except that's a lie. We never really see her use the boob window for that. She mostly uses her arms to make things. And the biggest space she could have open for big objects is her back. And we actually see her use her back (and destroying her clothes in the process because of course she did!)

Most of the time when a female character is naked she gets objectified by the narrative and/or the framing/camera movement in a scene, while when a male character is naked it works as a form of fantasy fulfillment for the male target audience. I think this is part of "the male gaze" and not separate from it.

Here's a great video about this topic.

There's also the issue of Mineta's entire existence!

Mineta is the other reason I took so long to answer, because I went on tangent about how the concept for his character could have worked, and how I would have fixed it. But I realised this doesn't fit here so I took it out. (I might make a separate post about this)

This character (that Horikoshi has apparently admitted is a form of self insert) exists purely to objectify every single female character that's on screen. Every scene he's in, every line of dialogue he has adds no value to the story. He's supposedly there for comic relief, but most normal people don't find blatant sexism funny.

Some might say "oh but he gets punished for it. it's supposed to show how bad that is". Well yes but actually no. Mineta gets punished for his behaviour, but the viewers still get to see naked underage anime girls on screen. It's not a subversion of the trope if you're still doing the trope.

and Mineta's "jokes" get progressively worse as time goes on, which to me shows that this really isn't about the subversion of tropes/meta humour. It's just an excuse to sexualise female characters.

Thankfully this has seemingly stopped now (after the awful "joke" with Eri) presumably because Hori got backlash for it. He should have been getting backlash from the start but better late than never I suppose.

However Horikoshi hasn't (as far as I know) officially apologised for this. Even if he did stop inserting such jokes into the story, he clearly continued sexualising his female characters behind closed doors.

The Hagakure colour page is the culmination of all of those previous instances.

Horikoshi was able to freely sexualise underage female characters in his series time and time again with little to no backlash, because this type of thing is normalised in anime. So it makes sense that as this went on and he saw how much he was able to get away with, he kept doing it.

The page is truly disgusting to look at. Besides being completely naked there's also the pose itself, the weird barely there censors in the form of "keep out" tape of all things, but also something that I haven't seen anyone else talk about.

Her hand placement always felt weird to me. Even if she was wearing clothes, showing her hands in between her legs like that looks overtly sexual. It also creates this strong "V" shape, that deliberately directs the viewer's eyes downward towards that area instead of directing them up towards her face. (That's why I changed her hands to rest on top of her legs in my redraw)

Horikoshi is a professional artist, he knows what he's doing and he is known for his really intresting character designs. In this colour page, Hagakure is a sexual object first and a character second.

This is why Horikoshi's statement of "wanting to test her colour scheme" rings hollow to me. When you want to test what colours go well on a character you draw multiple versions of them and you basically play dress up by putting them in different outfits and changing the colours around. If he wanted to just test her hair and eyes, he could have just done a portrait from the neck and up.

The way I see it, this is clearly just a poor excuse to avoid responsibility.

The issue isn't just Horikoshi himself, it's about how the sexualisation of women (underage or not) in anime is so normalised that it is presented as "part of the culture", and if you complain about it people will tell that "this is just how anime/Japan is" and that "you should just accept it"

If "part of a culture" promotes sexism then this is an objectively bad thing and said culture SHOULD be changed.

[sanguiresse]

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐂𝐓𝐄𝐑    𝐒𝐓𝐀𝐓𝐒    .  

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟏    :    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄    .

NAME: right now? vladimir savatier. EYE COLOUR: a dark red. it glows. once upon a time, they were a pretty blue. HAIR STYLE / COLOUR: you will hear this a lot, but it changes. usually a thin wispy white, reaching the middle of his back. he often ties it up with a red ribbon. if he feels in the mood, he’ll darken the shade to black. HEIGHT: varies. he tends to be somewhere between 5′11-6′1. his monster form height is around eight feet tall. CLOTHING STYLE: extravagant in the public eye, with lots of jewelry. borders on tacky and frivolous. when in the comfort of his own home, he tends to be more comfortable, but still quite regal. lots of red and black, as you’d imagine. in all cases, he is fully covered, with only his face and hands visible (though he will also cover up with gloves from time to time). BEST PHYSICAL FEATURE: his eyes. i think he has a lovely smile, too.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟐    :    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐈𝐃𝐄    .

FEARS: deep water. specifically, drowning. he gets notably uneasy around the ocean.   GUILTY PLEASURE: m…murder….?  BIGGEST PET PEEVE: loud noises. loud people. AMBITIONS FOR THE FUTURE: just to continue teaching his students and living out the years. should an enemy catch his ire or an ally gain his loyalty, then he might add them to his agenda, but for a noxian, vladimir has little ambition.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟑    :    𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐒    .

FIRST THOUGHTS WAKING UP: ‘where am i? who am i? what is happening?’ vladimir rarely sleeps, and when he does, the waking tends to be very disorienting.   WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT MOST: his memory. he’s always checking in on himself to make sure he knows his name, where he is, what he’s doing, who his friends are, who his enemies are, etc. in that sense, he’s also thinking about his body: how far the corruption is going, whether or not it will be visible the next time he sees someone, etc. WHAT THEY THINK ABOUT BEFORE BED: as i said, vladimir doesn’t sleep often, but in the rare occasion where he indulges in a nap, he’ll probably be worrying a bit about what happens when he slips under. but if he’s indulging in a nap, then chances are that he’s plenty exhausted— in which case, he’ll think about that. WHAT THEY THINK THEIR BEST QUALITY IS: his intelligence.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟒    :    𝐖𝐇𝐀𝐓’𝐒    𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐑    ?

SINGLE OR GROUP DATES: single. TO BE LOVED OR RESPECTED: loved. BEAUTY OR BRAINS: brains.   DOGS OR CATS: cats, but he doesn’t really like animals all that much.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟓    :    𝐃𝐎    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘    …

LIE:yep. tries to avoid it when he can (he prefers lying by omission), but he’s an aristocrat. of course he lies. BELIEVE IN THEMSELVES: yes…..? maybe. depends. BELIEVE IN LOVE: yes :( WANT SOMEONE: ………… yes… though it’s something that he would not realize about himself until it’s in front of him. but he certainly craves stability and someone he can hold onto.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟔    :    𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄    𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐘    𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑    …

BEEN ON STAGE: does it count if he was a prisoner of war under the darkin who was made to execute other prisoners for that darkin’s amusement DONE DRUGS: yes, but they really don’t do much, if anything, for him. it’s more notable in modern verse where he had some, um, wild times during his medical school days. CHANGED WHO THEY WERE TO FIT IN: yes. especially in his younger days, he adapted quite well to the people around him. it’s how he got into politics!

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟕    :    𝐅𝐀𝐕𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐒    .

FAVOURITE COLOUR: i will give you one guess. FAVOURITE ANIMAL: butterflies. FAVOURITE BOOK: he can’t choose one, but he likes historical nonfiction. he thinks it’s a blast.  FAVOURITE GAME: chess. it’s the only game he really plays… unless you count noxian court politics?

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟖    :    𝐀𝐆𝐄    .

DAY THEIR NEXT BIRTHDAY WILL BE: he was born before the invention of the modern calendar, so he really can’t tell. in modern verse, February 26. HOW OLD WILL THEY BE: well after you hit the 2000 mark, you kind of stop counting. plus, do you count the years where you weren’t actually in control of your mind? do feral years count? what about years spent asleep? it’s tricky.

𝐋𝐀𝐘𝐄𝐑    𝟎𝟎𝟗    :    𝐅𝐈𝐍𝐈𝐒𝐇    𝐓𝐇𝐄    𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄    .

I LOVE: long nights and good conversation. I FEEL: restless. I HIDE : behind a smile. I MISS: the old days. I WISH: for something new.

[the-hindu-times]

It is annoying when shows are on a Friday or Saturday night - especially in London. Not only are you coming into a city, where everyone else has decided to choose those nights to host their events, there are a great number of additional drinkers, who keep the country ticking over by working Monday-Friday, now presented with an opportunity to get drunk and not have to worry about sobering up in time for work in the morning. With the extra carnage coming from society's best fit, where A&E and the police know they're going to be busier because of them, the feeling of unease is present in all the overcrowding you wouldn't usually find as bad Monday - Wednesday. Not only that, the pubs that are now packed on a Friday/Saturday night weren't so jammed during the week, when they had 2for1 drinks and food deals. Now you're paying double price for a worse experience because the date of the show happenes to fall one of those two dreaded evenings. Of course, for anyone staying over, hotels go up in price on a Friday and Saturday night too, so it's no wonder people are put off by this, along with the standard weekend rail engenering works and reduced service, making travel more difficult too. In fact, comedian, Ricky Gervais refuses to do a stand up show on a Friday or Saturday night; to not attract drunken behaviour and so that his fans get more for their money.

Of course, due to school runs and new jobs, it may be easier for tonight's singers to come out on Friday and Saturday nights but the promoters maybe shouldn't have chosen the same night that the king of Britpop, Liam Gallagher, was playing in the same city, with plenty of tickets still available for that gig too. The other love from this music scene has always been football, in particular the England team, who were also playing at the same time, 8 miles away.

If a weekend was chosen to attract a drinking crowd, then shutting the bars at 9:45pm didn't seem to make much sense; they should really choose between having them open for he whole event or, preferably, just allow bar access for pre-show and during the interval. However, if tonight was about the orchestra playing arrangements of these britpop songs, then a nicer setting, like the Royal Albert Hall, on a better day of the week, like a Tuesday, would have been more fitting. If this lineup was about having a drunken Saturday night whilst hearing all your favourite songs from your youth, then this wasn't the night for that either. Tonight fell somewhere in the middle of all that, not really belonging.

By the time we were able to get into the Hammersmith Apollo, they were already on the last song of the first half; a fantastic orchestral arrangement of Ocean Colour Scene's 'Hundred Mile High City' with its songwriter, Simon Fowler, on vocals. The opening of the second half was just as impressive, with Republica's 'Ready To Go', which would have benefited without Saffron's enthusisastic but unnecessarily out of time tambourine playing. In fact, her singing actually distracted from the wonderful orchestra, who demonstrated how complex the parts are. The Bluetones' Mark Morriss seemed most at home in front of the ensemble, which included a perfect version of Pulp's 'The Trees'. John Power demonstrated how brilliant his Cast songs are, not needing much rearrangement. He may have felt a little uncomfortable without a guitar in his hands, as did Mark Chadwick, who has been playing with one in free time with The Levellers since the '80s so, after beginning singing in the wrong key, the strict timing of the conductor threw him off as he tried to count along himself with arm waves. A cover version of Bitter Sweet Symphony from him was a bit too obvious, with Simon Fowler also not making full use of the philharmonic by opting for an acoustic version of 'The Circle'.

Nic Bennett

[callmeana2310]

Old friends pt. 3?

Old Friends (Pt. 3/?) - College!Nick Nelson x female!Reader

Parts : Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 |

Pairing: College!Nick Nelson x female!Reader

Warnings: light cussing, LGBTQAI+, alcohol, cigarettes, non-native in English! (Lemme know any mistakes, especially if anything is offensive in the slightest ways!!!)

Topics: friendship, crush, old friends meet again, college, bisexuals, music, soft, young adults, growing up, cute cuddly Nick Nelson

Summary: After years the reader meets Nick Nelson at college. They knew each other from Truham and Higgs and (Y/N) remembers her crush on him.

Word count: 2,115 

Note: This is for the 20+ gang who also loved Heartstopper. Nick is in his mid 20s and the reader in her early 20s!

Hi there! Thanks for your patience! I'm really busy, but I'm trying to write some more chapters, here is part 3 and 4 is almost done!

The next few days are stressful. I need to rearrange some courses, buy plenty of literature and materials for the courses and also get back into university life. I leave the office hour of my literature professor, walking across campus to get to my favourite coffee shop on campus. I order my typical, caramel latte with coconut milk. I sit down at one of the corner tables. I love this place because it has this beautiful dark academia charm. Everything is made of deep, rich red-brown coloured wood - probably walnut or cherry - which has been carefully oiled and polished over the years. The left wall is covered with bookshelves made of the same wood, stuffed with old and old-looking books. I've spent hours going through those books, borrowed dozens of them for private use, but also for my studies. I admire the books while sitting down. The whole coffee shop is always dark and gloomy. The warm light from the ancient chandeliers and the fake candles - fake to protect the books and the wood, still aiming to maintain the aesthetic - everywhere create a cosy and welcoming atmosphere. Behind the massive counter are: vintage coffee machines, huge glass containers with coffee beans and dark, heavy wooden lids, and three very kind and relaxed baristas who take and prepare orders. On every surface are some kind of plants growing and blooming, all very well and neatly groomed. The table I chose is one of the smaller ones, with enough space for two, if you're really trying four could fit, but very snug. I sink into the huge, dark green winged armchair and arrange the red fluffy pillow behind my back. I put my laptop on the table, looking around, taking in the musky smell of wood mixed with strong notes of coffee. The only thing I don't enjoy that much; is how packed this place can get. With that comes a lot of noise that can be very distracting. But today is one of the rather quiet days. I shake my head softly, start my laptop, open amazon to buy some novels and parallelly research for some poetry collections. "Y/N! Hi there!", I hear Darcy yell across the shop. I look up, wave and laugh, "Hi Darcy! Tara!" They order before coming to my table and sitting down. "How are you?", Tara asks. "Haven't seen you in a while!", Darcy exclaims. I shake my head in disbelief. "I can't believe it!", I say with disappointment in my voice. "Can't believe what? What happened?", Darcy panics a little. "We're here for two years and you forgot to tell me Nick studies here too?", I laugh. This time it's Darcy staring at me in disbelief. Tara laughs wholeheartedly, "Shit! Nick? Nick Nelson? We didn't? Well... Yeah! Of course, Nick studies here! Have you seen him? I haven't seen him in ages! He's too busy being a rugby lad I guess!" "Yeah! Finally! I met him at that LGBTQ Party before the semester started! I really didn't wanna go, but Emily and the other girls literally dragged me there!" "Well... Better later than never I guess?", Darcy laughs, "I could've sworn we told you when you first came here!" I check a few names with them just to make sure I didn't miss anyone else the last few semesters. Then one of the kind baristas brings us our orders and my earlier ambitions to get all the literature is quickly forgotten. Tara and Darcy have been away for the semester break so I haven't seen them in a while, they tell me about their road trip through Italy and we slip into a daydream about a joint road trip in the future. "Before we fall into an autumn depression lets plan something for the weekend! Y/N? Are you free on Saturday? We need a girl's night!", Tara suggests. I nod, "Yes! Totally! We could check out that new place at the centre?" "Cocktails at your place and then we head downtown?", Darcy checks her idea with us. "Girl's Night!", I confirm, raising my glass for a toast.

Saturday Afternoon

I come home from practice around 5pm. Just enough time to clean my apartment, hop in the shower and prepare some snacks. I drop my bag at the front door, kick off my shoes and go to the kitchen to check if I got everything for the snacks. I mentally pat my own shoulder after checking all the ingredients. I take a moment to connect my phone to my speaker and start some music. Taking in the vibrations from the bass of the first song, right before I take off to clean up. I literally run through the whole apartment, collecting clothes and similar items which belong in the washing machine. After collecting a reasonable amount I sort them into different piles and throw in the largest load possible. I. Hate. Laundry. And you can tell. I repeat the same route again and again picking up different items, and placing them where they belong. I fluff and rearrange my couch pillows and fold the blankets carefully, after that I quickly vacuum and mop the floor. While the floor dries I jump in the shower. My music is still blasting through the speaker and the time in the shower allows me to relax for a few minutes. And... Relaxation in the shower means screaming the tunes at the top of my lungs. After a thorough cleanse from head to toe I get out of the shower and wrap my hair and my body into a soft and fresh towel. I take care of my skin before heading back to the kitchen. I cut some vegetables, arrange them on some skewers, prepare a couple of different dips, and cut open some fresh bread I baked in the morning, I do the same with some fruits and prepare some chocolate to be molten as soon as Darcy and Tara arrive. Our girl's nights are always a feast, the girls bring snacks and drinks too and we have a blast before even going out. I take a look at my phone seeing it's almost 7 pm, sprinting to my bedroom to pick out an outfit. I sit there just in underwear for quite a while, standing up every now and then to try on some stuff but nothing looks the way I want it to. My door rings, I throw over a robe and open it for the girls. "Hi there Hun! Looks like an outfit disaster!", Tara chuckles while hugging me. "That obvious? Hi girlies!", I reply hugging both of them. "Very obvious. Who you wanna pick up today? Boys? Girls? Both? Non?", Darcy asks walking towards the kitchen. "I don't know", I try to pick an option, "I just wanna be comfy and look hot, because you guys always look hot!" Both of them break out in laughter, taking off their jackets; revealing BOMB outfits. "I hate you fesh lesbs", I groan only to make them laugh even more. "Give me a sec!", I shout going back to my bedroom. A white body, slightly see-through with a square cleavage, black flair pants and some simple, black, squared high heels. I walk into the living room presenting my outfit receiving some comments. "Hot but comfy! I would kill for your curves!", Darcy exclaims. That's all I wanted to hear. Lesbian approved! "You gotta do that dark brown sultry make-up! The one that makes your eyes pop!", Tara insists. I laugh, "That's the plan! But snacks and drinks first!" We gather in the kitchen, the girls carry the snacks to the couch table and I mix some of our favourite cocktails. We sit down together and toast to a great evening. As per usual we first catch up on stuff we missed the last few weeks, and then they show me some beautiful pictures from their Italy road trip, each one bearing a story. I style my hair and make-up while listening to all the great stories, missing Italy and travelling. We eat almost all of the snacks and drink almost all of the alcohol. I really missed this. 

Snacked up, snatched up and proper tipsy we head to town to a new, super modern and hip bar that just opened up. Getting there our girl's night is already kinda over because we meet shared friends we can't just leave sitting there. I say hi to the group when a glimpse of red hair catches my eye. He is here too? I should have known. Before I could finish that thought Nick turns around. "Hi!", he exclaims, looking me up and down. "Hi!", I reply before he pulls me in for a hug. "Wow! I've never seen you like that! You look beautiful! I mean you always do but... That make-up... Your eyes are... Just.. Very blue!", he laughs slightly nervous. I laugh, "Thanks! You look awesome too!" "Thanks!" He does. Black pants and a dark blue, well-fitted long-sleeve henley with the top buttons unbuttoned. Very simple, very powerful. Someone pushes me from behind, pushing me towards him, making me grab his upper arm and stand very close to him. He supports me by gently holding me by my waist. He looks down at me for a moment. Was that a smirk? "You good?", he asks. I can smell he already had some drinks. I nod, "Yeah, sorry! Ahm... Nice to see you again!" Suddenly someone properly grabs me from behind, pushing me aside. I am confused for a moment until I see Darcy walking past me, hugging Nick. "You know, we haven't seen him in a while either", Tara explains, shrugging her shoulders and joining the hug. Before I can react to that some other friends grab my attention and we get separated for a while. Eventually, the three of us meet a the bar again. "Girls' night was fun until it lasted!", Tara shouts, raising her glass for a toast. Darcy and I agree, joining in with our glasses and laughing. "Yes! Next time we stay at home! You guys can still crash on my couch!", I scream over the music. We try to talk, but the music is really loud at the bar so we decide to go dancing. And we dance, and drink, and dance, and drink, and dance until I really need a break. "I'm outside for a smoke!", I yell into Tara's ear, letting her know where I am going. On the way out I grab my jacket from the chair. 

Standing outside, taking another drag from my smoke I hear someone clicking their tongue behind me, but I don't bother turning around. "Y/N, Y/N, Y/N! Does your brother know you're smoking?" I automatically roll my eyes at that statement, but also involuntary smile. "Yeah! He does and he hates it!", I reply looking to my right where the redhead appears, lighting himself a cigarette. I laugh loudly. "Does Sarah know?" This time he rolls his eyes. "She nearly killed me!", he hisses. We both laugh, casually standing next to each other, smoking our cigarettes. Our laughter slowly falls silent. "How's your mom?", I ask softly, looking down at my feet. "She's fine, misses us being around... The usual.", a brief moment of silence before he continues, "How's your fam?" I shrug my shoulders "The usual, not happy, not miserable enough to change anything". I throw away my butt into an ashtray. The conversation is clearly over, but I insist on waiting for him. "I'll need another. It's way too crowded and loud inside!", he explains, holding out his pack, offering me another. "True! Thanks!", I say grabbing another smoke from his pack. We fall into lighter small talk while smoking, both avoiding heavy topics from the past. At some point, I start shifting from one leg to the other. Nick notices, "Are you cold?" I shake my head. I'm not, probably nervous, maybe just in the mood for dancing. He holds up the side of his coat I'm standing next to, offering me warm shelter underneath it. Why not? Is all I think before making sure my cigarettes won't burn a hole into any clothes and then snuggling next to him. Under his coat, it's cosy and warm. My upper arm bumps into his side and I feel his body heat burn through the fabric of both of our clothes. There it is, that little smirk again, barely there, but very cute. Together with his body heat comes a mixture of cold smoke, alcohol and a men's perfume, a smell hypnotizing me more than I expected it to. I look up at him and we both chuckle. 

[finelinevogue]

he’s so vogue

Description - you are the journalist for the new Harry Styles December Vogue Issue

A/N - how is everyone doing? hope you enjoy! if you have any requests please feel free to ask. love you all and have a lovely rest of the week!

warnings: swearing

[masterlist]

Being a journalist for Vogue was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

After 3 years of studying English Literature at Surrey University, you never thought, only a year after, you'd be working as an apprentice at Vogue UK. If it weren't for your Aunty, who worked in the fashion design section at Vogue HQ, then you'd no doubt still be a broke-ass, single, lonely student. Ok, lonely you still were but your job was so full-on that you didn't have time for a relationship.

Two years into your apprenticeship you were promoted to an official member of the team, and then another two years later you got promoted to team leader in your department of journalism, and editing; The Media - or as you like to call it - "The Celeb Goss". You were beyond happy with your job and found such passion in every article your wrote. Whether it be about a new celebrity romance or the collapse of one, you found a way to story-tell in such a meditated way that everyone loved your pieces.

That's why the Harry Styles had requested you to be the one to interview him.

Of course you'd written about A-list celebrities in the past, producing articles on pregnancy rumours, or engagements, or breakups, but you'd never met them before authoring an article. You'd met plenty of D-list celebrities who thought they were mega famous, but if you mentioned their names people would turn around and ask "who?".

This is why interviewing Harry Styles was a massive thing for you.

Not very often did you get to do work out in the field, especially in these covid infested days, but nevertheless it was your favourite part of the job. Getting to meet the people you were writing about was completely refreshing, allowing you to obtain a clearer outlook on which direction to take on your journal piece.

You were asked to go to Stonehenge, where the photoshoot was being filmed, as your office of interview. Even though you'd lived in the UK all your life, you'd never actually been to Stonehenge. It wasn't really on your bucket-list, but it was a pleasure to get to see it all the same.

Being the prepared interviewer you were, you'd prepared an array of questions that you were set on asking Harry. You'd never met him before, but after much googling and youtubing of him prior to meeting him today you would already be confident in saying he's the most brilliant man to ever exist. You were really nervous that you were going to screw this interview up and make a terrible mess in front of Harry Styles.

"Lisa! What if I accidentally say something I shouldn't?" You ran your stressed hands through your hair.

This whole morning had been frantic. It had started off by you waking up late, no thanks to Lisa, your best-friend and co-worker, pressing snooze on the alarm. You wanted to look professional today so you'd put on your best shirt - only to spill coffee down it ten minutes later. So now, you smelt of coffee and were wearing what was left in your wardrobe - and it wasn't much. The only things left clean were a pair of pink corduroy flares and some, pastel coloured, graphic t-shirt to go with it.    

"You won't. Stop being so negative." Lisa rolled her eyes, probably fed up with the amount of winging she'd heard from you this morning - and you'd only been awake an hour.

"My outfit is hardly professional either." You huffed, pouring the rest of your, second, coffee down the drain.

"Well I think you look gorgeous." Lisa stated, whilst putting her breakfast bar wrapper in the bin.

You and Lisa were back and forth about you stressing, and such, for about half an hour before you had to leave. You had a great panic about losing your glasses too. You could see without them up close, but for long distance viewing and reading you were practically blind. You were taking Lisa's car, since she didn't think you were emotionally stable enough to drive. Lisa was the creative director on the set, and thank goodness she was so you could at least ramble to someone.

After a two hour drive up from London, you arrived at Stonehenge and it was freezing. Although the sun was out, it did nothing to keep your body heated. The journey up had been nice because you sat in your nicely heated car, chatting away with Lisa and blasting some Harry Styles out of the speaker. You'd made it through the first album, and the second one up to Canyon Moon before reaching your destination.

Upon arriving you could just about, without glasses, make out about 15 other cars, arranged at the bottom of a hill. There was an array of Audis and BMWs, a few Range Rovers, which you placed your bets on one was Harrys, and a green, vintage, Jaguar which was most likely belonging to the fashion editor or something. There was also a modern barn, perched at the foot of the hill, which was where Harry would be getting changed in to his various different outfits.

It took you a moment to register that Lisa had parked and was already clambering out of the car, making you look a little idiotic still blankly staring at the beautiful scenes in front, and around, of you.

But it was still bloody freezing.

You jogged a little to the boot and whipped out your white cardigan. Originally you'd thought that this would've been enough to keep you warm, but now you were starting to think otherwise.

The atmosphere here was amazing. People were rushing around left, right and centre loading, and unloading, various pieces of equipment and clothes. You caught sight of brightly coloured fabrics being carried to and from various places. There were the camera crew, and presumably director, all chatting amongst themselves. The smell of the very fresh air was so lush that you'd forgotten what it smelt like - especially after years in London.

You grabbed your bag from the boot, which had your notes, recording kit and laptop stuffed inside, before locking the car and following Lisa in to the barn.

It was lovely and warm inside - a completely different climate to than the outside. It was as if it was Bali inside and Antarctica outside. Better Bali than Antarctica though.

"Ok. Let's put our stuff down over here and then go find people we need to meet and such." Lisa instructed, you still too in awe of the place to fully comprehend what was going on.

You followed Lisa and you two ended up dropping off your stuff next to some other bags. You took a liking to the purse next to your stuff. Next to your bag, it made yours seem ancient - like it was worth nothing more than a penny. It was luscious and a beautiful baby blue colour. You softly ran your hands over it, finding satisfaction in how smooth and subtle it was.

"Hope you're not planning on stealing that, love." A manly voice appeared from behind you. You whipped around to see who's bag you'd been messing with, and it was just your luck that it was to be Harry Styles'. Of all the people's it could've been it had to be his. 

Perfect.

He looked dashing. He was in black flares and his iconic 'But daddy i love him', t-shirt, along with a huge green anorak. His hair was prettily clipped back with a pink clip, presumably placed there to gave his curls greater volume. In his hand he had a pink toothbrush and you guessed he'd come back over to put it away in his bag - only to find you caressing it instead.

"Oh - no, no. Not at all. I - uh - I just thought it was beautiful." You stammered over your words, choosing them carefully to try and make you look less like an active criminal.

"Mhm." Harry nodded whilst looking you up and down, most likely judging why a peasant like you, in comparison to him, was touching his expensive property. "Well, I love your flares darlin'." Harry looked down at your trousers, his compliment making you blush a little.

"Thank you. That wasn't professional, and neither is my outfit, I know, and I apologise." You added, because you knew that if your boss knew you turned up today the way you did she would give you a right bollocking - and potentially even fire you.

"Never apologise for flares. You look amazing." Gemma perked up, making you feel more self conscious surrounded by all these other beautiful women. Gemma was in a slouchy, knitted, jumper and basic jeans - no doubt all from shops beyond your budget - and yet she looked like a model fit for the runway for Vogue.

"Okay, sorry." You apologised again, to which you, creepily, got the exact same, stern, look from the Styles siblings at the same time.

"My stylist, Harry, introduced me to big pants. He offered whether I wanted to try a pair of flares, and I was like, 'Flares? That's fucking crazy'!" Harry laughed as he told his story, earning a laugh out of you too. "Now they're my favourite item of clothing. Have a whole wardrobe dedicated to them."

"I wish he was joking." Gemma laughed at her brother and his flare obsession.

"Well you do look handsome in them, so I understand why." Your words rolls off your tongue before you could even comprehend what you were saying. Only after you finished your sentence did you completely intake what you'd just said.

"Good start." Lisa giggled to you, before turning to walk over to the coffee station. It was a help-yourself coffee bar and you knew that you were going to bed at least five cups to get over the last five minutes alone. You'd probably drain the station before letting anyone else have any.

"Oh god." You awkwardly mumbled, not daring to see how weirdly Harry would be looking at you, before walking off outside.

You had spent less than 10 minutes here and yet you'd never felt like a bigger clown. Joining the circus had never been so easy.

The outside wind hit you like a powerful leaf blower, and your hair blew around like crazy - most likely compiling into a birds nest on the top of your head.

Today was supposed to be the start of something great. Your hopes were set on a promotion from your written masterpiece, whilst enjoying the company of one of the most handsome, most lovely, most talented men of this century. Those hopes seemed a little too distant now. They seemed to mock you, as if to laugh at how you ever thought you were going to be any more successful. You'd completely, in more ways than one, made a fool of yourself in front of your interviewee, you were so underdressed, you were caught fondling his Gucci purse and you were still bloody cold.

It all felt too unprofessional for a job where professional was practically the driving force of the company.

You leaned against the barn, taking a deep breath to try and calm yourself. You were a master in over-thinking, but unfortunately that wasn't something you could add to your resumé. You let your eyes close and the other senses come alive for a few moments. The sounds of distant sheep and the smell of the cold wind were just two of the senses that allowed you to take a step back for a minute, and breathe.

"Thank you." A voice interrupted you from your attempt of quick meditation. You looked to your left and noticed Harry standing there, still in the same outfit as before.

"I'm sorry?" You asked confused, taking a step away from the barn to considerately pay more attention to him.

"Thank you - for saying I look handsome in flares." He repeated, smirking when he added the second part.

"Oh." Was all you could respond, feeling too embarrassed to take the conversation any further. "I should—" You pointed back to the barn, using it as an excuse to leave before yet screwed up anymore.

"Lisa told me you're the interviewer." Harry added, and it only occurred to you that you'd never actually introduced yourself. "So it's lovely to finally meet you Y/N." He stuck out his hand for your to shake, which you did willingly. His hands were a lot softer than you'd expected.

"Ho... You know my name?" You asked surprised.

"Of course. I also know you're the best writer in Vogue right now." He flattered you, which made you blush. You had a feeling he'd make you do that a lot today.

"Sure." You rolled your eyes as you spoke sarcastically.

"Well I chose you for a reason, didn't I?" He rhetorically asked.

"I mean.. I, well.. I don't know?" You stumbled over your words, making yourself look like a larger fool than you did already. Today was just turning out to be exactly what you didn't want it to be. "Sorry."

"Stop apologising. You do it too often." He told you, nearly making you apologise again but he gave you a jokingly stern look, as if he knew what you were going to say, and so you decided otherwise.

"Harry!" You both turned to see there was a man waving towards you both, but specifically to Harry. "Come get changed!" The same man shouted. Harry lifted his thumbs up, as if to signal he'd be there shortly.

Harry turned back to you and noticed you shiver a little.

"I'll start the interview after I come back from the dressing rooms, yeah?" Harry asked, taking off his, khaki green, trench-coat in the process. He handed it to you before you could oblige against it.

"Wait what?" You confusedly looked down at the coat and back up to Harry.

"Gives me a piece of mind knowing my interviewer isn't going to die of hypothermia before actually interviewing me." He smiled, obviously attempting to crack a joke and you have to admit you did laugh.

"Thank you." You say, before he runs off to where he's being called to.

                                                            ••••

You'd been sat inside for a little while, waiting for Harry to come back. It gave you time to perfect your questions though.

Thinking up questions to ask Harry had been a challenging task, but one that you'd been fully invested in. You loved creating questions to ask him that were going to get to understand him on a deeper level. He was a very private man, and you completely respected that. If you crossed any boundaries, with the questions you'd ask, you would write them out of the interview. You liked to think you hadn't thought up a question that would make him feel uncomfortable though.

Pissing off Harry would be on another level of shame.

"Coat kept you warm?" Harrys voice disengaged you from your notebook.

"Hm?" You asked then replayed what he'd just asked in your mind. "Oh, yes. Thank you very much." You stood up, from where you'd been perched on the floor, picking up your nearly finished green tea as you did so.

Only when you stood up did it come to your realisation that Harry was now in costume. He was dressed in luxury. Each item looked like it cost more than your rent, and that was saddening. He looked rich and luxurious. To be quite honest, you were finding it rather difficult to take your eyes off him.

"You think the outfit is Vogue enough?" Harry asked, striking a few poses, which made you laugh. It was refreshing to see him act so relaxed and carefree, rather than a stuck-up-prick you knew some celebrities to be.

"Completely. I love it!" You exclaimed, appreciating the twirl he did for you.

He was wearing a kilt-like skirt and he looked beyond beautiful in it. Fuck toxic masculinity. Fuck being a manly man - like what does that even mean? Harry was embracing gender fluidity and experimenting the ways in which there was no definitive line between men and women's clothes anymore, and you thought it was marvellous. Revolutionary, for times as politically and socially troubled as these.

You started removing the coat in attempt to give it back to him, but he refrained you from doing so by holding on to your forearm.

"Keep it. I thought we could go outside to start the interview, so you'll be needing that." Harry told you, and you agreed - however reluctantly that was. You couldn't really complain though, because the coat did kept you warm and, what's better, it smelt divine - just like you'd imagine Harry to smell.

"Okay. Thank you. Do you want to go now?" You asked hesitantly, not knowing whether he was busy for someone else right now.

"Whenever you're ready, love." He answered, making you feel more relaxed. He was going at your pace and was making you feel settled - he was even more of a gentleman than people described him to be.

The two of you had walked around the backside of the barn in silence, enjoying the comfort of each other's presence. Well, at least you were. It was a blessing no one was back here. It was just you, Harry and the scenery that surrounded Stonehenge.

You approached a bench and you plopped yourself down on one end, whilst Harry sat on the other. He respected the fact that there was a pandemic going on, and didn't want to make you uncomfortable in any way. You still had your mask on, so Harry had taken that as you were very conscious about the virus - which he admired.

You pulled out your glasses, from the depths of one of the coat pockets, and placed them on your face, probably making yourself look even geekier than you already felt. Today was just one of those days you wished you had good eyes...

You opened your spent notebook, musty pages practically falling apart, and turned to the section of questions you needed for that interview. You were so nervous already and you hadn't even asked anything yet, all because of the previous interactions with Harry today. Your shaky hands shuffled through the pages and you cursed under your breath when you struggled to find what you needed.

"Shoot. Come on." You mumbled quietly under your breath, hoping it would make this terrible situation end faster. You mustn't have been as quiet as you thought though.

"Y/N." Harry's name broke through your clouded mind of self-disappointment.

You looked up at him to see him softly smiling at you, blowing all worries away from you away with the wind. "Yes?" You timidly asked, pushing your wind-swept hair out of glasses - where it'd gotten caught.

"You’re alright, love. You don't have to be professional around me, alright? We're just two strangers having a conversation, to get to know each other, okay?" If his words didn't calm you enough, the soothing sound of his husky voice certainly did.

"But that would mean you asking me stuff too?" You replied, confused at his implications of the phrasing 'getting to know each other'.

"Mhm." Harry nodded his head.

"Oh I don't know Mr Styles, i'm not a very interesting person." You answered as if it were the most obvious thing in the world, pushing your glasses back up the bridge of your nose from where they'd fallen.

"I refuse to believe that." Harry chuckled, making a quick smile appear on your face. "And please call me Harry. Just Harry." He begged, obviously finding it weird you calling him by his professional title. All you wanted, ever, was for your interviewee's to feel comfortable and safe, so if Harry wanted you to call him Harry then so be it.

"Ok, Harry," you sarcastically said, earning a shake of the head on his behalf, "you can ask me a few questions throughout the day." You told him, but you knew he'd struggle to find even two questions when he realises how bland you are.

"Does that mean you only get to ask me a few as well?" Harry smirked, already knowing the answer to that question. Unlike Harry, you had to write an article about today when you got home and so he knew that you'd have to dig as much dirt as possible from him.

"No, sorry. I don't particularly want to lose my job." You paused to look down at your notes, squinting a little as you did to see better. "Okay. Tell me your experience with corona virus."

"Sorry I didn't quite catch that, love." Harry apologised, leaning in slightly to see if he could hear you a second time around.

"Sorry." You looked down to fiddle with your fingers - a habit you'd undertaken when you're embarrassed. "Um..," you cleared your throat, "would you mind if I took off my mask?"

Your timid voice sent tingle down Harrys spine. He didn't think anyone could ever be this sweet. "Not at all, ‘course you can." He replied, again, wanting to make you feel as comfortable as possible.

You hesitantly took off your face mask, feeling like you were in some dramatic movie where they face revealed someone. You kind of liked having the mask on, because, for one, it kept you warm, and for two, you were a little self conscious with how you looked compared to all the other women here today. You shoved the mask in your pocket, with trembling fingers, before looking back down to your notes.

"Woah." You heard Harrys voice being mumbled under the wind. You eyes shot up to his and you noticed him staring right back at you.

"W-what? Is my acne playing up? I knew I should've—" You self-consciously run your hands over the areas you know you got acne. The masks really didn't help when it came to skin care.

"Hey, stop. No. You just... You look beautiful." Harry complimented you, and a roaring blush arose on to your cheeks. You'd never been called beautiful before, and so you were taking the compliment like such a 13-year old.

"Oh, uh, thank you." You awkwardly answered, not really having any other words come to mind in that moment. Harry chuckled under his breath, still keeping eyes on you for some reason.

"Would you mind repeating your last question, I didn't quite catch it?" Harry asked politely.

"Sure. Um, tell me how you've experienced corona virus." You repeated for him, gripping ahold of your pen to start copying what he says and pressing start on your recording device in case you needed it later.

"Well, it's been tedious that's for sure. However, I just want people to be safe and for life to return back to normal, so therefore i've been very MIA for a lot of the time. Keeping to myself mostly. I only went out for hikes or bike rides. All my meetings were online, so it's been very lonely." Harry kept eye contact with your figure the entire time, and if it weren't for you concentrating on writing what he was saying then you'd probably melt away under his gaze.

For such soft eyes he sure was intimidating.

"I presume the loneliness sent you crazy at times." You laughed, because you sure felt that way through lockdown. Curse being single.

"You have no idea." Harry laughed along with you, making you, slowly, feel more at ease.

"Actually, you'd be surprised." You looked at him unsure, before returning down to your notebook.

"Okay then, first question from me," Harrys words made your head shoot up, "How can someone as amazing as yourself be lonely?" He asked and you made a mental tally of how many questions he'd asked.

"Could ask you the very same question, Harry." You slyly replied, avoiding the question by answering with another question. It was a tactic you'd learnt, throughout your years of journalism, when you wanted to dismiss something .

"That's cheating." Harry pointed at you and raised his eyebrows, but you couldn't take your eyes off the big, cheeky, smile perched on his face. You shrugged you're shoulders in defence and returned to your questions. "But you did just call me amazing, so I think i'll let it slide this one time." You blushed, again, when you understood what he meant.

He was amazing though - that was the truth.

"You were in L.A. for the majority of quarantine, am I right to say?" You already knew the answer but your manager had just wanted confirmation.

"Yeah, but L.A. feels like holiday, whereas London feels like home." He answered, which you appreciated. He hasn't got lost in the way that Hollywood could let people. He'd stayed grounded.

"So what did you entertain yourself with during quarantine?" You asked curiously, slightly side-tracking from your pre-written questions - just because you were intrigued (nosey).

"Not much, not to be boring. I ate a lot of bread. I worked out pretty much every day. I wrote quite a bit actually." He used his fingers to pinch his bottom lip, something you'd noticed he did in interviews.

"Does that mean a new album on the way?" Your inner fangirl was screaming at the thought of HS3.

"Can neither confirm nor deny." Harry smirked to himself, like the cheeky bugger he is.

"That's a yes then." You joked, pretending to write it down in your notes.

"You're impossible, you." Harry laughed and shook his head. It made you feel all funny the way you could make him smile like that. You were the source of his happiness for just that moment, and that was enough to make you feel happy for a lifetime - not that he felt the same.

"Next question," you stated, moving swiftly on because you knew you had limited time, "How's your experience with Vogue been so far?"

"Wonderful. Everyone has been so welcoming and that makes it so much easier for me to have fun. It's daunting going at things alone, but i'm getting slowly used to it now." Harry sniffled a little, probably due to the freezing cold weather here.

"Must be strange, not having four best friends around you, all the time, anymore." You stated rather than asked him, sure that he was missing his bandmates. I mean, you were - so he definitely would be.

"Brothers." Harry replied, making you look up at him confused.

"I'm sorry?" You asked, giving him your full attention.

"You said four best friends. Well, actually they're my brothers." His words actually caused a rift in your heart. You could feel it being pulled apart and torn in to two. If you wrote this in to the magazine the fans would have a worldwide passing-away-party.

"Harry." You said softly, slightly tearing up at his words. "God, I swear i'm not normally this emotional." You chest your throat and try to establish your dignity - however there wasn't that much left anymore.

"Oh shut up." Harry looked away obviously trying to hide the fact that he was tearing up too. You laughed at him but didn't draw any more attention to it than you guessed he would've wanted.

"They mean a lot to you then?" You asked, hopefully not treading on any unwanted territories.

"Much more than a lot, yeah." Harry nodded his head, turning it back to face you. He could tell this conversation was now off-the-record because of your closed notebook, your undivided attention towards him and the fact you’d turned off the recording device. He liked being able to look at you, rather than the top of your head. He swore you were the prettiest girl he'd ever seen.

"You still see them often?" 

"Not as often as i'd like. Niall did come around the other week to drop off some old guitars he didn't want anymore, and then we ended up playing around with some music for a bit." He admitted, which stitched your heart back together.

"So does that mean a Narry collab?" You teased, biting your bottom lip in anticipation.

"Narry? You so are a directioner." He laughed along with you.

"And you just avoided my question, therefore there is a song out there written only by you and Niall." You concluded, which shut him up.

This conversation was going a lot better than expected. Certainly a lot better than earlier. You will be permanently scarred by the way you spoke to him and handled his belongings. It was going to haunt you forever - and yet he'd forget about it by tomorrow. Or maybe he wouldn't, which is why you felt the need to apologise.

"Harry?" You asked, clearly indicating this was still a conversation away from the interview.

"Yes Y/N?" He watched you intently, listening to your every word.

"I, um, just wanted to apologise for my behaviour earlier. I was just really nervous to meet you, and to be honest still am. I didn't mean to touch your stuff without your consent and I certainly didn't mean to make you uncomfortable with any of my comments. So, i'm sorry. I can only imagine the awful, yet true, things you must think of me." You rambled really quickly, that you were uncertain whether Harry even caught one word of what you'd says.

"Do you know why I asked for you to interview me Y/N?" Harry asked, which wasn't the first thing you expected him to say after your apology.

"No. I...well Lisa told me it was because I can write well or something." You suggested, not wanting to sound egotistical.

"I mean you do write perfectly, but no." You were intrigued now. "I asked for you because I, and this is not for your magazine, have a secret - but not-so-secret - crush on you." This time it was Harrys turn to blush.

"Harry... you don't have to say that to—"

"I'm not saying it for anything. I sincerely think you are the most delightful, most prettiest, most fucking sweetest person i've ever met." Harry exclaimed, which you were taken aback by. Never, ever, did you think that Harry Styles would proclaim his likeness towards you. Ever.

"Harry don't mess with me, please." You shyly spoke, tilting your head down in disbelief that the Harry Styles was smitten about you.

He shuffled along the bench, stopping a little way from you but close enough to reach out for you. Your heartbeat increased when you noticed his hand move closer towards you. It didn't stop till he reached your face. He took his time, courteously, pushing your hair behind your ear before removing you of your glasses. He held the right-eye frame and slowly pulled the glasses off your face.

Once he'd successfully taken them off he folded them up and placed them alongside your closed notebook.

"Can see those pretty eyes now." He whispered quietly, but loud enough for you to hear.

"Don't lie. They're so dull." You mumbled, lifting your head up slightly. His face was still away from you.

"Not to me they're not." He retaliated, looking deep into your eyes as you did his. "I hate this corona virus."

"Why?" His words were so out of the blue sometimes, it gave you whiplash.

"Because I can't be as near to you as I want to be." Harry told you. And yeah, you hated corona too. It was getting a little laborious now.

"Smooth, Styles." You chuckled. You wondered how many new and weird pick-up lines could be made from covid. 

"I know." He winked, which honestly would have made you throw up if it were any other man on the planet. Somehow, though, Harry just made it seem attractive - along with every other thing that man ever did. "After this, would you like to come back to my house for a cuppa tea?" He asked sweetly, like a five year old asking whether you wanted to play together.

"Okay. Lisa was my ride though." You said more to yourself than anything else, debating on how you'd even get to Harrys. Uber? Taxi? Lisa? Walk?

"I'll drive us, it's fine. I have to drop Gem off, but i'd be more than happy to chauffeur you." Harry kindly offered, to which you were internally screaming about. You were literally, and metaphorically, having a field-day with all this Harry content and interview.

"Are you sure? I don't want to be a burden." You question politely, not wanting to overstep any boundaries - especially in these covid infested times.

"Of course. I wouldn't have offered otherwise." He protested, waving his hand at if to say it was no bother. You were already trying to work out, in your head, how much petrol money you were going to owe him.

"Then i'd be honoured to have a brew with you Harry." You giggled at how cringe you were being, even if this was just your normal self speaking.

"Great." Harry genuinely smiled, teeth and all. "My shoot should take a couple of hours, but feel free to continue to write and journal. I'm looking forward to reading this particular article." He winked at you before standing up.

"Wonder why?" You sarcastically asked, knowing full-well it was due to his exposure of his own feelings towards you. Even though you'd never says anything back you were quite in agreement on how you felt about him, like he did you. He would be a narcissist to say he knew you liked him the same, out loud, but he knew. And you knew that he knew.

"Wonder why indeed." He gave you one last smile before he'd disappeared for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you to digest and relive the past half an hour or so.

Being Harry Styles' crush was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

                                                          ••••

After Harry had finished up his shoot he was quick to come find you again.

You'd watched parts of his shoot and he looked magnificent. There wasn't a good enough word to describe how amazing he looked. Harry, his stylist, was probably the best stylist out there. His fashion choices were unmatched and you wanted him to be yours. You were not rich enough nor fashionable enough, ironic for working in a a fashion company, to hire a stylist, but you would if you could.

You were so proud to see what he was achieving now as the person that he was. Harry was just being Harry, without the devilish control of shitty managements or ridiculous amounts of PR stunts. Harry was more free than ever, and it definitely showed just how much he was enjoying it.

You were certain that this Vogue magazine would break the internet - his fans were good at doing that. This could be a turning point for many people, with their outdated and ignorant views. There was no room for people with racist or homophobic or transphobic or xenophobic - and the list does go on - views anymore.

You were waiting by the front door of the barn, to catch Harry as he walked past. You caught sight of him in a white robe, presumably to get changed back into his everyday clothes. He looked really pretty in the robe - very domestic actually.

Today had been a good day.

Harry asked you to send over the more specific Vogue questions to him via email, so he could devote more time in to answering them in a lot more depth. You thought he meant you'd be sending them to some PA in his team, but you were shocked to understand he'd given you his personal email.

People were walking back to their cars and packing away the filming kit. You saw Lisa and the director talking to one another, no doubt discussing some in-work gossip.

"You ready?" Harrys voice reminded you that you'd been waiting for him. You looked to see he was back in the same clothes as this morning, only this time without his coat.

"Here?" You offered, having him over the coat once again but he declined.

"Looks better on you anyways." He winked at you, before walking through the car park and to his car. You were very surprised when you found out Harry was the one to own the green Jaguar. You assumed all celebrities drove the Range Rover, but no. The vintage car added to Harrys immaculate vibe and just made him that little bit more hot.

Harry properly introduced you to Gemma, who was equally as lovely as Harry. They were both amazing people and they were crazily alike. From the way they looked, down to the way they phrased their words, they were mistakingly twins. Gemma explained how Anne, their mum, didn't know they were doing this photoshoot and that it was going to be a surprise, which you thought was so cute.

Gemma spilt a lot of gossip on Harry, to which he got very embarrassed over. You learnt that Harrys first word was Cat. You learnt that Harry is godfather to multiple children, which you found heartwarming. You learnt Harry used to be a baker - which was something he elaborated on for a good half an hour. Harry was just a fountain of memories and Gemma was the one sharing them all with you.

The drive back to London was relaxed. You sat in the back, listening to Harry and Gemma pointlessly argue whilst an Arctic Monkeys album played in the background. You forgot that people like Harry drove, and listened to music, just like other regular people. You often misplaced celebrities in society, thinking they had everything done for them but in reality that (often) wasn't the case - at least not for Harry.

Gemma was dropped off quickly before Harry drove to his. It was no surprise that the Styles siblings didn't live too far away from each other. Harrys house was beautiful. Bigger than anything you could ever dream of buying. It was a palace compared to your cupboard-sized house. You were unbelievably jealous. He gave you the tour of the house, showing you where the toilets were, and even his panic room if necessary.

You migrated to the kitchen for a bit, talking about anything and everything. Getting to know the minuscule pieces of information that no-one else was trusted with, made you feel special. Harry made you feel special - even if he weren't meaning to.

Every moment held a spark. Every touch set off a firework. Every laugh was an electric burst. He made you feel so alive.

"We can go to the living room after this has boiled." Harry said, pointing towards the streaming kettle. He wanted to show off his fancy tea collection he had, and let you have a try if you wanted to. Harry was boring and chose the basic green tea, but, after much deliberation, you chose the cranberry green tea. It intrigued you and it sounded delicious.

"Why the extensive tea collection?" Not even you, a certified caffeine addict, had this much tea in your house. Coffee was a different story and one in which you didn't want to talk about.

"They help me with my meditation." He took the teabags and placed them in his glass mugs. They had a delicate Gucci stamp on them, and you just imagined that they probably worth the same amount as your daily salary.

"You meditate?" You were slightly surprised that he did.

"I try to yeah." Harry nodded, focusing on pouring in the boiling water into the mugs. "I've got very tight hamstrings and so it helps if I meditate twice a day."

Harry finished making the tea, in the light-filled kitchen, before showing you around to the open-lounge area. Everything was modern and chic. It was exactly how you imagined it, but better. The open, red-brick, wall was a beautiful feature and one that you were a whore for! It reminded you of New York and the memories you'd made there one summer.

The sofa was a beautiful velvet, green, sofa. It was soft and gentle, a lot like Harry when you thought about it. The whole house was an architectural masterpiece and you'd be lying if you said you weren't jealous. You sat on one end and Harry went to go and sit on the other end.

"I don't bite you know?" You joked, self-consciously wondering whether he didn't want to be sat near you.

"I know, I just don't want to step on any of your covid boundaries - which is perfectly fine by the way." He added, apprehensively taking the spot next to you.

"No, not at all." You ushered him to sit next to you, as you took a sip from your steaming hot cup of fruity tea. "If I smell though, do tell me!"

"Yeah, you smell bloody awful!" Harry sarcastically remarked, but laughing afterwards to assure you he was joking. The atmosphere went quiet for a minute, only the sounds of passing cars and deep breaths being heard.

"Y/N can I ask you something?" Harry turned the tone of the conversation. It sounded like he wanted to be more serious than you two were being beforehand.

"Anything." You encouraged him to continue. You placed the cup of tea down on the table, deciding it was too hot to drink right now, and gave him your full attention.

"Do you believe in love at first sight?" Harry questioned. You didn't think you'd be having a conversation this intense - especially if you had different opinions - on your first day of knowing each other, but here you were.

"I believe you can love someone at first sight. I don't believe you can be in love with someone at first sight. Why?" You were curious as to how his brain had journeyed to this particular topic. You'd never really had this conversation with anyone before, mainly because you were unaware of the true power, and meaning, of love.

"It uh... It doesn't matter." Harry shook his head and you could tell by his body language that he was shutting you out. Maybe you'd made him uncomfortable.

"Sorry I didn't mean to—"

"No, no. Please don't apologise. It's just - I like you a lot more than you may think." Harry shyly told you, which made you all soft inside. He was being vulnerable and that was something you admired in a partner. You didn't just need love, affection and trust in a relationship. No. You needed vulnerability and heartbreak too, and Harry was revealing that part of him to you.

"I like you a lot more than you think too." You repeated, not because you felt bad for him but because you truly did like him a whole lot. Love was a weird yet wonderful thing, and if you were to hazard a guess you'd say you loved Harry. 

You couldn't wait to be in love with him.

"Does that mean I get to crown you my girlfriend?" Harry excitedly asked. Harry happy was something that should be made a constant, and you were more than happy to be in control of that.

"At least take me out first." You bargained, wishing for nothing more than to go on a date with Harry. Where you'd go, you had no idea. Everything was closed right now and there was still the chance of becoming sick with corona, but no doubt Harry would think of something not only clever, but special.

Of course you'd love to be Harrys girlfriend. However, you wanted one more, official, opportunity to really get to know him - unprofessionally. You wanted to make sure that you knew, and he knew, that you wanted to be with him because he was the charming Harry you've come to love, not because he was Harry Styles.

"So you're allowing me to take you on a date?" Harry smirked like a little child, your heart fluttering at how excited he was to be able to treat you to dinner.

"Yes, Harry. Yes I am." You answered sweetly, offering him the cutest smile you could.

You can't believe what a turn of events today has been. You've gone from nearly writing yourself on Harrys enemy list to writing yourself on to his 'people he's dated' list. Who knows what the future would offer you. At the start of the day you had wished this whole day to end and for the ground to just swallow you up, now you never wanted it to end. It was too perfect to be true and yet it was.

Harry was the most wonderful human to exist and you were beyond surprised to be the one to catch his attention. You didn't understand why you were so special, but it was nice to feel like this for a change. It was nice to feel wanted.

                                                             ••••

A few months later and you were officially Harrys girlfriend.

It had been such a crazy few months. Harry religiously took you out on dates every week. Whether it be to grab a hotdog at a local diner, a coffee from a quaint cafe, a walk in Hyde Park or a late-night drive around London - which normally ended up with you falling asleep before you could make it back to yours. On sleepless jet-lagged nights he'll still drive through London's quiet streets, seeing neighborhoods in a new way, just as an excuse to spend time with you.

Harry often stayed over at yours. Even though you looked like you lived in a shoebox compared to Harry, he liked it. He liked the subtly and normality of it all. He wanted your life to remain as normal as possible and, apart from the occasional paparazzi incident, it did. You never had anything to complain about. Of course the online bullying created emotional wounds, at the start of your relationship, but it was nothing that Harry couldn't repair with a bit of love.

Lisa has nominated herself to be maid-of-honour when the day comes - if the day comes. Harry has already pinky sworn that you are it for him. The one, as some may say. You were utterly flattered, but you certainly unsure of what the future help for you both.

You loved Harry, you do love Harry and you will forever always love Harry.

It was ridiculous to think that all this stemmed from you working at Vogue. From you studying English Literature in a city away from London. From you dedicating you extra hours gaining work experience and money to be able get in and afford university. So many moments in life have you stopped and said 'i wish i hadn't have done that', but now you were convinced that they were the best things to have happened to you - because they lead you, all, to Harry.

And, being Harry Styles girlfriend was probably the biggest flex you could ever make.

[landinoandco]

Could I ask for a Max Verstappen request?

Where you get all excited to tell him you’re pregnant and it doesn’t go well. Could you make it super angsty

Of course you can :) here you go, I hope you enjoy! 

Max Verstappen x reader 

Warnings: angst but with fluff at the end

Word count: 2.2 k 

Requests are open...

Baby, the future is ours

At last the summer break had rolled around again, to the relief of the Formula one drivers and crew, they had 3 long weeks ahead of them to fill with whatever they deemed stress-free or relaxing. The subject of activity depending on person to person - most sane folk tended to stick to a holiday to Greece or if you were an adrenaline junkie like Daniel Ricciardo jumping out of planes or BMX biking. You had lost count of the times Max - your boyfriend - had rushed in to tell you about all of the exciting things his best friend had gotten up to as of late. 

You and Max had decided to take a break and travel to a cosy, quiet part of Italy - to escape the press, the stress and most importantly the eagle eye of social media. It would just be you and him for a few weeks before reality brought you back to Milton Keynes in the shape of Christian Horner and his motley crew. 

You and Max had met in 2018 at a gala event Redbull had hosted, Pierre Gasly - being a close friend of yours - had introduced you two and to say the pair of you hit it off instantly was an understatement, whether it was a mixture of the Dutch meets British humour you had no clue but you weren’t one to complain. A few months later and Max had asked you to travel around the world with him - you did so willingly and life had been nearing perfect ever since. Of course you had your ups and downs, where the universe seemed to really test not only your love for one and other but your patience. A few arguments had shown you that both being hot-headed never ended well. 

You were sat out on the balcony, a book in hand and looking out into the Italien countryside. Max had left for a run and to explore the local village, leaving you, your thoughts and your growing baby. You were pregnant - you had taken the test just before flying out, this meant that Max wasn’t aware. You hadn’t told him yet and you had no clue how you were going to. As it turns out telling your partner you were pregnant was easier said than done - ironically. 

You and Max hadn’t had the baby talk yet - you had but only along the lines of: “one day, when we’re older and married and driving isn’t the main priority anymore.” Those were Max’s words. He wanted to be there for his child, to watch him or her grow, to see every milestone but most importantly to be a good and nurturing father. 

There was part of you that was slightly worried because you just didn’t know how Max would take it - you couldn’t keep it in any longer though. You had to tell him. There was another part of you that was excited - from a very young age you knew you wanted to have a family of your own with the person you loved the most. Call it childish naivety. At this point in time, you were ready to become a mother - well as ready as anyone ever could be. 

Placing your book onto the table, you made your way into the kitchen, grabbed a glass and filled it. Sighing loudly as you leant onto the countertop. 

“That was a loud sigh.” A voice called out from behind you. You recognised it instantly. Whipping your head around, you saw Max standing there, wiping the sweat from his forehead. 

Chuckling, you hit back, “Thank you, Captain Obvious.”

Rolling his eyes, he made his way over to you and wrapped his arms around your middle, placing a sweet, chaste kiss onto the side of your head. Leaning into his warm embrace, you let out another long but content sigh. 

“Seriously, what is it with you and sighing today.” Max uttered, his lips still against the side of your head. 

You went to move forward, out of his welcoming embrace. You knew what you had to do. 

“There’s something I need to tell you.” Instantly the atmosphere changed, you could feel Max stiffen behind you. Maybe the tone you chose to make that comment in was too serious but it was now or never. 

“Haha, which of your friends is pregnant this time.” He quipped jokingly, trying to break the tension. 

Instantly you knew the way the conversation was going to end, a pang of hurt felt in your stomach. You squeezed your eyes shut, catching your lip with your teeth. He stood there with an air of innocence and unknown, concern dancing in his eyes - he went to reach his arm out to you, to offer that encouragement. 

You braved the words that came out of your lips, “Me.” You almost whispered. Time seemed to slow. Max dropped his arm and instantly took a step back. 

“Pardon.” Was the only thing he could force out of his mouth, his throat seemed to close up and his hands went clammy. He definitely heard you the first time but he wanted to make sure it wasn’t a night terror. A bad dream he had failed to wake from. 

“I am, Max,” You said again, your voice wavering. 

“Oh.” He stated, his face drained of colour, his mouth set in a straight line. 

“Is that all you have to say.” You swallowed thickly, your eyes swam with tears. You had a hunch this was how it was going to end but it didn’t stop is from hurting the way it did. You had hoped he would have proved you wrong, to have wrapped his arms around you and to have spun you around. To have laughed. To have cried. To have shown a little more excitement to the fact you were now carrying his child. His first child. 

You moved past him and sat down on one of the wooden chairs, rubbing your hands over your face. He was still stood there. His eyes fixated on the view out of the window. No emotion read in his eyes. It was almost like you had hit the ‘off’ button. He tapped his foot and made a clicking noise with his mouth before turning around to face you - meeting your gaze. 

“How long have you known.” His voice was hoarse.

“A couple of days before we flew out.” You answered him, moving your face back to rest in your hands. 

There was a pause. “Why didn’t you tell me sooner.”

You took a breath, looking him dead in the eye. “Because I knew this was how you were going to react.” You didn’t trust your voice at all, you also didn’t know whether you wanted to scream at him or cry in the corner. 

“Right.” Was all he said. Still stood there like some awkward teenager after a rather large telling off from their mother. 

“Is that all you have to say to me?” You asked him, nostrils flaring. You were allowed to be angry, right? 

“What do you expect me to say.” He rounded on you, his voice raising more than was necessary. Tears had spilled down your cheeks, you didn’t have the energy to fight back. As soon as he realised the effect this was having on you, he went to move forward again, his eyes softening instantly. “I’m sorry - I - I shouldn’t have raised my-”

“Get out, Max.” You stated lowly. By this point, you had stood up, shuddering away from his desperate grasp. He knew he had made a mistake. You knew he regretted it, the moment the words had left his mouth. 

“Get out?” He repeated quietly, his voice cracking, you could see tears glazing his vision. 

“Just - please, go on a walk - come back once you have more to say to me.” You spat.

“But - But I already have more to say-” You cut his rambling off once again. 

“Please. Max.” You insisted, your voice betraying you again. “Go.” You whispered. 

Max stormed out of the door, ensuring to slam it so hard the chandelier on the ceiling swung precariously. You sank back into your chair and let out a loud sob, unable to hold it in any longer. 

Max was mad. Not at you, that would be unfair. He was mad at himself. At the world. At everything actually because at this point why the hell not. You were pregnant - don’t get him wrong, he was over the moon. He was going to be a dad. 

It was too soon. 

He still had his full F1 career ahead of him. A promising and long F1 career as a matter of fact. He wanted a baby to be his main priority and he wanted to share those one in a lifetime moments with you. He knew there was no point in being mad, it wasn’t like they were in a position where they couldn’t have a child. They had plenty of things to offer, a nurturing home with parents who were head over heels in love with each other and a large family - blood and not - who would be willing to support and love the child as if it was their own. Max really was in love with you. He knew it would be you to mother his children in the end, he just didn’t think it would be now. 

He reached for his phone, went into his contacts and pressed on the number that read the name: “D.R new phone.” Whilst it wasn’t adventurous like many thought it would be, it saved the confusion from calling a number that no longer existed. 

Daniel picked up on the second ring. “Hey dude, how’s it going?” 

“Not good at all, Dan, not good at all.” Max admitted, his voice wavering once again. He explained the events that had happened a mere 5 minutes ago, the way he reacted and the way he left you. Hurt and alone.

“I’m not going to lie to you, mate, you’ve fucked up big time.” Dan spoke after what felt like a loud silence. After all, Daniel knew you just as well as he knew Max. 

“I know. I know I have, do you think I’ve been selfish?” He asked, his tone full of raw emotion. 

“Yes.” Dan stated simply, “I think you have been, especially since she even told you this is how she thought you would react. How much stress do you think she had been putting on herself? Come one, I’ve taught you to be better than this.” Daniel paused, Max could almost hear him place his thumb and ring finger onto the bridge of his nose. “You know, just as well as I know, she knows it isn’t the best time. Her becoming pregnant is very much a two person job, I think it’s time that you go back to her and have a conversation like the adult I know you are.” 

In that moment, Max was so grateful to have someone like Dan just a call away. “Thank you, Dan. Really. I don’t know what I would do without you.” 

“Alright Mr Father-to-be, don’t be going all soppy on me now.” Daniel joked, returning back to his normal teasing. That was the best thing about Daniel, he was quite useful when you needed him to be. 

“You can count yourself on being the godfather after that.” Max added, a large beaming smile plastered onto his face. 

He heard Dan let out a loud laugh, “Go on, leave me be. Good luck, mate, let me know how it goes and when the time is right tell her I say congrats.” 

“Of course, mate. Thank you, again.” Max muttered, looking back in the direction of the villa. After he hung up, he stuffed his hands into his pockets and ambled slowly - working out exactly what he was going to say to you. 

Once he had opened the door, he called out to you. “Babe?” He heard a sniffle in response. You were still slumped on the chair in the kitchen, shooting daggers at the cupboard opposite. 

Max sat opposite you, reaching out for your hand. Grudgingly you let him take it, you blinked and he took a deep breath before a large, beaming smile crept onto his face.

“We’re going to be parents.” He rubbed the back of your hand, speaking tentatively. You nodded, your lower lip trembled. Max stood up, still keeping a hold of your hand as he gave it a slight tug, indicating that you should stand up. You made your way into his embrace, his arms wrapping securely around you, tucking your face into the crook of your neck as he rocked gently side to side, burying his face into your hair. He then moved his hands to cradle your face, wiping the stray tears away before peppering your face with feather light kisses. 

“We’re going to be parents.” He repeated, a little louder and to this you let out another sob, laughing as he picked you up and spun you around. 

“I’m sorry. I was being selfish.” He said, as he wrapped you back up into his arms. You smiled into his chest. In that moment, you couldn’t be happier. It was like all of your childhood dreams had come true. In that kitchen stood your new family, mismatched and sometimes a little bit broken but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

[draslihanxfahri-bailey]

For the rest of her life, she knew that her heart would long for Egypt whenever she wasn't there. After all these years, she always felt the same rush of excitement and peace whenever she thought of it. It was and forever will be her first home. Of course, it didn't exactly have the best memories either for a couple of reasons. Yet that never stopped her from treasuring the country. She nodded as she chuckled slightly. "Of course, I'd love to. Be prepared for it taking awhile, though. The wing is jam-packed full of knowledge, exhibits, and activities, and I don't want you to miss out on a single thing. Plus, I've made an agreement with museums back in Egypt and around the world to do a rotation of our current exhibits to be replaced with new artefacts and information every few years. That way, we can expose more knowledge to everyone who comes to the museum and keep our wing fresh." It'd actually been that idea that helped her to be offered the position in the first place. Nodding, she wondered what Texas had that made the man want to return if he could right away. "Well, hopefully you can visit as soon as you can. I'll be frank, I'm not sure what all Texas has to offer. I've never been there." When it came to the United States, she was still rather a novice. Watching the way his smile changed the more he talked about Rachel left her wondering. "Well, I'm glad that you two have each other," however that was, she failed to add. She wasn't going to get her ass in trouble by making any assumptions. Yet she'll keep note of that smile of his. "Of course. Fortunately, Providence Peak is good about having events every once in awhile and there's plenty of things to do here, so I'm sure you'll be able to meet more people. It was kind of daunting at first, but it gets easier."

Her smile grew warmer. "Trust me, their big hearts are even more impressive. They're truly some of the best people in the world and I promise, I'm not being biased." A beat. "Okay, perhaps a little biased," she laughed. "But, yeah. I'm not sure what I did to deserve being in their lives, but I feel lucky about it every day. Who knows how different my life could've been." She's wondered about that, especially more after learning about her biological family. Would she have found her way back to them? Would she have never reunited with them? What kind of person would she be? When it came to the question of whether she would've had Alex and met everyone who's currently in her life right now, she felt her heart ache. So many questions yet no way of knowing what could've been. "Good, because I am liking our friendship. And I need to prove that I'm better than him all the time," she joked. She adored her older brother. Even though it was fun to mess with him.

Her features softened. "I know what you mean," she mused. Richard had been her first teacher when it came to archaeology. Everything she learned and uphold to, was because of him. "I have zero doubts that you're both extremely talented. I get that, yeah. A majority of my tattoos are black, though I have a few with colours. There are definitely certain tats that are better with that ink than with another style, though colours do have their time and place. One of my tattoos is this Hand of Hamsa with an Evil Eye in the palm that's blue, white, and black that I couldn't imagine without having colour. Do you have a favourite piece of yours that you've gotten to tattoo or would love to tattoo on someone?"

He was surprised by how quickly she responded to his question, but in awe all the same. She spoke with the kind of confidence that he longed for; the kind of love for a place that he wanted more than anything else. He'd been all over the States and had bounced between Country and Country, but no place called to him like Egypt seemed to call to her. "I haven't been yet. Maybe sometime you aren't working, we could a walk through together? It seems to me that's the best way to get the grand tour," he half teased, half genuinely suggested. By the passion laced into every word, he didn't think it would be much of a problem. Max sucked in a deep breath, head shaking as she tried to think of the one place he'd go. It wasn't anywhere out of the States, but it was home. The one place he'd swore he'd never have any interest in returning to. "Texas. It's no Egypt, but it's been a real long time since I've been there and I don't know? It feels overdue." He flashed a weak smile towards her, though it grew more genuine at the mention of Rachel. "Yeah, we know each other." Well, he failed to mention. He wasn't the kind of person who threw that kind of information out, especially considering there was no label on what they were doing. Just two people having fun. "I'll take all of the help I can get."

She seemed humble for someone who came from that kind of wealth, but he wasn't the judging type and wasn't going to start now. "That's impressive." His family had never known that kind of stability. It was the dream that everyone wanted, but only a few ever achieved. At some point in his life, he'd grown okay with the idea of never having more than needed and giving back when he did. "They sound like good people. I'm sure your brother is a good guy too, but I promise. I won't go liking him better," he assured playfully after another swig of his beer.

His tattoos were inspired by everything around him. He found beauty in odd places and preferred the creative spin on ideas rather than the literal sense. "Sometimes. He taught me what I know and some of those methods have stuck with me." If it weren't for his father having the patience of a saint and being there for Max when he needed a helping hand, then perhaps he wouldn't have bloomed into the artist that he currently was. "I prefer black ink. I think that if there's a story to tell, you can do it without the colors, but don't get me wrong. I don't think there's anything wrong with colors in tattoos, it's just not my style."

[starshipsofstarlord]

hii, i absolutely loved your “yes ma’am” jj one shot, just wanted to say that if you plan on writing more of that i would really really love to read it :) idk if you take requests but if you do feel free to interpret this as one i guess, even tho it’s not very specific 😭 sorry i’m not good at this but anyways i hope you have a very good day !!

baby boy

this can be read as a part two, or seperately from this

jj maybank x reader / masterlist

summary; the boy that you have intimate instructs with shows up at your door, after getting in an altercation with his father. you make him feel better, by proceeding to do more than patch him up / warnings; domestic abuse, jj’s dad is a piece of shit, mummy kink, smut, oral sex (male and female receiving), 69ing, titty sucking

“Let me make you feel good.” JJ was a state, he was bruised black and blue, the injuries having endured the soothing chill of ice to help reduce the pain. Though he still winced as he sat up straighter, staring at you. A frown caused discord to contribute to his features, as he became distracted by the other things he would wish to do to you.

It was a passion of his to be between your legs, delivering supple amounts of pleasure. Since the first time he had done such a deed with you, he was put on quite the tantrum if he wasn’t allowed to. A pout coursed the pursing of his lips, enforcing you to tut at his demeanour.

Though tonight, if you were sure he could handle such matters, you would go easy on him. Usually you took great pride in littering hand prints along his body, more specifically his ass, but for now he had enough bruises creating a discourse in his skin. You wished you had an eraser, so that you could remove all the endurances that he had survived, as well as to make his horrid father disappear entirely from the picture.

JJ deserved vastly better, and you were going to take care of him, as long as he consented of course. He needed to absorb the fact that life was not all pain, even for pogues, there were things to take pleasure in, such as the beauty of the collaboration of human bodies; it was a force of nature, endured through fusion of conspired cruelty.

Everyone knew of the circumstances that the blond managed to survive in, half the time, he spent the time of his slumber beneath his friend John B’s unstructured roof, or like now, under yours, a place that he felt safe, and secured in the setting.

Here, there was no need for him to be fearful, it was a shelter for him to fawn in, to feel free to bare the nasty inflammation of purple digress across his chest, and the split in his brow that would take a couple of weeks to completely heel.

The bruises, swollen like forbidden plums, etched out of his body, staring you in the face, though, it only served as a fatal reminder of his father’s subject to inflict pain. Though his anger and resented ways of parenting were induced by heroine, filtering his veins with a poisonous role as a boy’s father.

There was emotion surfing upon the tide of JJ’s azure eyes, brill by the pain that resonated within the waves, permitting rolls of sorrow to persevere out from his forlorn irises, sending signals of unmistakable endurance towards you, as though he were pleading to be comforted.

Briskly, he nodded his head, without words, saying that he was fine with the matter of you making him feel better; in fact, the desire of being held, and soothed, was rather intent, twisted with the feeling of being carved into a motion of forgetting the rash circumstances that had permitted him to be taken in, and nurtured by your soft hands.

His nose burrowed into your shoulder, nestling into the locks that cascaded down, the shallow breaths that he took granting him to breathe normally for a second. Each time that he shut his eyes, he pictured the scene; it was on the porch, mid morning. He was just about to creep in, and grab any supplies that he had left in his room.

But his father had been waiting for his late arrival, sitting on the chair with disappointment written all over his face. It was terrifying, and what with JJ being the way he was, he did not even attempt to bite back words, instead he allowed his mouth to run freely, resulting in the morbid beating, that had his bones aching.

The treatment was a regular occurrence, but this was cusping his mindset to be scathed, even when he was in your presence, cooped up in his safety net of your physical contact, the abusive actions flickering far behind his eyes, like a silent movie that had him keening out for something more optimistic in referral to his future.

As your had slid down his flushed skin, he gulped, almost moaning out at the tenderness that your hand attributed alongside his beaten flesh. He felt like he had endured a battle, and he was lucky to have gotten out alive. The remnants of the war were scattered about like a platter of marble, there were lines striking his exterior, creating a crack in his appearance, as though he were broken, and he sure as hell felt that way.

But you wouldn’t allow him to think like that; he was not broken. Instead he was tarnished, but there was still chance of having the certification to be repaired. And you would do anything to make JJ, your sweet boy, feel obscenely better. He deserved the world, yet with the brunt of it, he had been handed life on a stick, carrying his burdens around like a ploy.

It was the price all that were born on the cut paid, enforcing the image of the figure eight to appear like a paradise, with strong walls to hide behind, and grave teams of people that would willingly support them, whether they were neighbours, of friends, or coworkers, or anyone. And not to mention, they had the dough to hire lawyers and attorneys to respond with privilege in defence of their actions.

The lower your hand crept down, as though it were preying for something to attain a hardy grip on, the more erect JJ’s cock became. He could feel himself twitch in his boxers, for that was all that he was clothed in, the fragrance of your shampoo seeping through the breaching of his nostrils only aiding the ramifications of his pulsating length, that was growing by the second.

To adjourn his frustrations out, JJ knew that he was not supposed to wisp his fingers through your hair, and thus instead, he bunched up the sheets beside him that were stretched out like a layer of monotone and neutral land, lightly rutting his hips in an upwards motion, hoping, even mindlessly praying, that you would shift your attention to the prodding that was expedited from the inside of his underwear.

“Oh baby boy, it’s okay. I’m here, and I am going to take real good care of you.” You spoke as you noticed his crotch standing to attention, and him whimpering for the same eye drawing scenario. From your condemned statement, a slither of colour paved his face, mostly concentrated on his cheeks.

Your JJ was inherently blushing, the heat crawling over and under his flesh, as though he were embarrassed by how quickly he had gotten aroused. However, there was no need for him to be, and you assured him by pressing firm kisses along his jaw line, nipping lightly on the skin, and tugging with restraint upon it.

Slipping from his lips, a guttural groan fumbled out, purchasing a content smile to break out onto your face. The distraction was plentiful, more so as your hand cupped his bulge, gently stroking the top through the material with the pad of your thumb. It was a circuit of stimulation, erupting a course of pleasure through his veins.

“Don’t wanna- mummy.” He whined, making you cock your head in staged dominance, glancing down at him, as he pleasingly held his gaze upon you, with his jaw tipped up so that he could get the best perspective of your face.

“Don’t wanna what baby?” You lightly tease him, causing his heart to rapidly flutter as you continue to caress him through the red of his boxer shorts. There was a visible patch of precum on the crimson material, soaking through the layer, as he languidly rolled his hips, and to exhibit him further comfort, you leant down, tasting its sweet salted flavour in your tongue as you ran your tongue over the fabric.

Tugging at the rim of his underwear, you watched as his cock flipped out of the confines, bobbing up on the canvas of his stomach, with the layer of precum swiped over his tip, a little stretched down the ways of his length.

“I want to eat you, taste you.” He sniffled lightly, whining in a higher pitch, as he muffled his pleads into your neck. In turn to his nonchalant begging, you were coerced to rub your thighs together, unintentionally warming the slick that had gathered between them, it was hot to see his desperation.

“Mummy, please.” Light tears corrupted his eyes, he was on the edge of combusting from lack of getting what he wanted, and you didn’t have the heart, or lack of to deny him, especially after what had sourly happened to him, in the habit of his own family home.

As you went to peel his boxers all the way down his legs, about to untangle them from around his ankles, JJ urgently began to tug at your clothes. He could see that you had given into his wish, you were going to allow him to flick his hungry to please tongue over your slit, and he was eager to do so, as was quite obvious by the way he screwed the bottom of your shirt up in his hands, rolling the material in his fists.

“Patience baby boy.” From your soothing command, he calmed, and you threaded your hands through his hair, as a reward for his obliged cooling of behaviour. Slowly, as you leant your chest close to him, you remove your blouse, and from the soon proximity that you were in to JJ, he began to suck your tits through your bra.

A tut abandoned your mouth, and lightly with gentle might you pushed him back, to remove the last layer on your upper half, allowing him to return in his commencing of suckling on your nipples, as though he were a newborn, starved and inclined to feed. In the meantime of JJ salivating your nubs, you shifted out of your shorts, leaving you in nothing more than your panties.

His head ran down, his lips laddering down the steady rising slate of your stomach, down to between your thighs, his mouth succulently nipping over the thin layer of your panties, he remained there for a moment as you panted from the sensation, before rolling him over, and turning, so that whilst he feverishly tugged your panties to the side, you leant your head down, eyeing his cock.

Your hand trailed down to his appendage, swiftly tugging on his length, causing high pitched tones to emit from his busy lips, the vibrations muffled against your cunt, trying his utmost to devour your flow of juices. Enclosing your lips around his cock, you steadied your hips around the portrayal of his head, taking bit by bit further down your throat.

To add to his specifics of pleasure, you rolled his balls in the palms of your hand, rotating your fingers around the sack below his length, and thus you pulled you lips off from around him for a moment, to lick a line up the seam of it, before returning to deep throating his cock.

A few more bobs of your head had JJ finishing in your mouth, and for a minute, you rolled his seed around in his mouth as you thrusted yourself hips against his face, chasing your own high as you swallowed his.

“Wanna make mummy cum. Want to taste her sweet, sweet mummy juice.” Gripping onto his waist, you furiously rode his face, releasing a small, supple scream as you finished on his beautiful complexion. He toyed his tongue around your folds, soaking up every drop of your essence with his tongue.

With a heavy breath, you clambered off from him after cumming, a content smile prevailed on your face as you stretched your arm across to the bedside table, grasping up the packet of cleansing wipes, and retracted one from it, using them to wipe your juices off from his face, sweeping up the excess that was glossing his chin.

After disposing of the used wipes, you tucked JJ under the sheets, bringing him to lay against your chest, as you applied a kiss upon his forehead. His blue eyes fluttered closed, as he began to suck on your tits again, aiding him in having calm dreams, and forget about the troubles that had haunted him.