#welcome to my new segment

[truestfeeiing]

angsty ikiryo fact of the day:

if you ask ikiryo!near whether he was in love with mello, he'll just shrug with a sad smile and say he hadn't spent much time thinking about it.

[kozzax]

10:30 pm and im thinking about sansmom again. This will become a recurring incident.

I just. Thinking about them going to a bar together. Sans goes to bars to socialize and put on his jokester face and Mom has her alcoholism and. It's a social event! They're socializing, look! Nevermind that by doing this they're both exacerbating the other's issues. Sans enabling Mom to drink more and more, Mom enabling sans to continue going out and playing at being a person without ever actually Being one. Nevermind that they both have people they should be getting back to. The world is doomed and they are the only ones who see it so why not go out and party and shut down the parts of them that are worried about it? After all, its not like they can Do anything about it. They're just NPCs.

[doromoni]

Off Track Pace | MV1 , ?

Ships Max Verstappen x presenter! Reader , ? x presenter! Reader , Platonic! Charles Leclerc x presenter! Reader

Genre : Fluff , Angst

Sub tags : mutual pinning , She fell too early , He fell too late,

Summary : A new f1 presenter and journalist has entered the paddock and she brings chaos along the way. And as competition looms , will the current Champion be as fast outside the track?

Face claim: Sofia Wylie

A/N : I’m so sorry luvs! I’m working on updating Clash of Champions , i promise ~ it’s my uni’s finals exams so I gotta focus on that first… so here’s a peace offering.

Part 2.

Media day, usually on a Thursday — a day that most Formula 1 drivers dread. A day where cameras followed their every move, interviews with journalists that twisted their every word and silly PR stunts forced on them by their teams. It used to be just all racing and winning podiums, but modern Formula 1 is all about media politics and sponsorships.

If you were to ask any driver on the grid if they were given the chance not to do PR, they would say yes to skipping it. But not everything about media day is horrendous.

Not when a new motorsports journalist joins the paddock that was an absolute sweetheart and delight to have around. A natural on the job — she always made sure that every driver that she interviewed was comfortable and enjoying their time with her and the segment.

the.Y/N

liked by skysportsf1 , lissiemackintosh, f1 , and 689,270 others

the.Y/N first day on the job? . i’m not nervous, you are! (She said literally shaking)

skysportsf1 Welcome to the team Y/N! ❤️

the.Y/N thank you kind employers. 🤍

lissiemackintosh Babe!! It’s finally official. Congratulations!

the.Y/N Thanks to you Babe!! I swear I would’ve been lost without you 😭

User1 who is she?

the.Y/N literally no one

User2 Ohhhh a new commentator? 🤔

User3 maybe she’s a journalist?

scuderriaferrari the kids had fun. They want their clay statues on display!

User2 Clay statues?? Hello?? Wut?

User3 Same question, Clay statues??

the.Y/N wait and see 🤷‍♀️ , the interview would drop tomorrow? Maybe~

User4 Its her first day and she literally had an interview with Charles and Carlos in Ferrari???

the.Y/N well no , the first interview was with Lewis Hamilton … so. 🤭

User5 WHAT?? Ok , queen slay!

User4 damnn , imagine being new to your field and already interviewing the big guys.

mclaren Do us next please 🙋‍♂️

redbullracing get in line!

the.Y/N gotta stop by Aston first , sorry besties.

User6 OK WHAT IS HAPPENING, ms. Y/N who are your connections 😭 i want in.

User7 why are all the teams here??

Y/N L/N was the F1 presenter and journalist who put drivers willingly out of their comfort zones and made them try something new. You genuinely loved what you do and you were passionate about it. You never showed partiality among the drivers, you treated everyone with the same attitude — this earned the respect of all drivers on the grid.

You were quickly becoming a paddock favorite. The fans enjoyed the content you put out and the drivers looked forward to your interview when they saw your name on their schedule.

Interviewing with you usually meant cheat meals and unusual activities that you thought they would like.

the.Y/N

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, maxverstappen1, and 740,155 others

the.Y/N maybe bowling isn’t the best idea. @charles_leclerc you suck, ngl. New vid out on Monday at the sky sports channel🤍

charles_leclerc i hate you ❤️

the.Y/N no you don’t 😌

charles_leclerc no, i don’t

User1 I love their dynamic so much!! I need more of the Paddock siblings pleaseee

User2 I can’t wait for more of Y/N bullying Charles into weird things and Ferrari doing nothing about it🤣

landonorris but why is charles in a cowboy costume?

the.Y/N i dunno? He just showed up in that 🤷‍♀️

charles_leclerc You told me we were riding horses and you wanted me to wear smth cowboy!!

the.Y/N oh yeah! Lmao

landonorris should i feel bad?

the.Y/N Nope. He’s happy either way. Aren’t you @charles_leclerc?

User2 NOT THE LMAO . Y/N thank you being you

User3 Y/N giving us Cowboy Charles , yes ma’am

User3 JUST DATE ALREADY!

the.Y/N EW. No

charles_leclerc Ok , the ew was unnecessary. But same. No thanks :)) i’m not dating my sister .

User4 Charles call y/n his sister 🥺

However, No matter how much you tried to keep things professional by being just a driver: journalist, something your boss commented during a quick meeting because fans kept shipping you with every driver. What you found weird is that most drivers you see as older brothers and some even uncles (don’t tell Nando). Plus most of them had girlfriends!

Nevertheless, your relationship with them seems to always end up with them hanging around your office at Sky, whenever they are free. Even the older drivers like Nando, Lewis and even Nico and Kevin use your office as an escape from the chaos of their motorhomes.

You didn’t mind hosting the older drivers in your room, as they were usually tame and kept to themselves as they read the books on your shelves in peace. They usually plop themselves down your couch and place the oversized plush you always bring on their lap. They always brought you snacks, so you looked forward to the times when their heads popped in your door and asked if they could come in.

But when the younger drivers visit your office? And if they came in groups — which they usually do. Oh boy, it was either a clusterfuck of them stealing snacks from your secret stash or your office becoming a den for hot gossip in the paddock usually led by the one and only Charles Leclerc.

Case in point. You now have Charles, Carlos, Max and to your surprise Checo in your office. The older Spanish-speaking driver was a rare visitor, but a welcome one nonetheless.

But considering the topic in discussion, you understood the presence of the two Red Bull drivers.

You were in the middle of typing away on your laptop when suddenly they barged in with ice cream tubs and spoons at hand then found a spot to sit and made themselves comfortable.

“Is Newey leaving Red Bull?” Charles asked Max and Checo, as he scooped a bite from his ice cream.

“We have no clue! Christian is saying nothing to us. Nothing” Max exclaimed exasperated as Checo nodded in agreement.

“So Adrian Newey is moving to Ferrari?” You questioned as you pointed your spoon at Charles

“Y/N, I love you like a sister and I know that you’re incredibly smart, but sometimes you are stupid. We’re clueless in Ferrari, hence my question ”

You threw your wooden spoon at the Monaco-born Ferrari driver. Which he easily avoided thanks to his fast reflexes. Freaking f1 reflexes!

“ I wasn't the person who got named for being stupid— HEY! Max give that back!! You don't even like salted caramel” You were trying to rebut Charles’ insult but were distracted when Max took your ice cream for himself.

Max just shrugged and placed his half-consumed chocolate brownie fudge ice cream in your hands — his spoon still in it. You didn’t complain further as you took his spoon and took a bite yourself. Yum! Brownie fudge is your favorite.

“Dude, what is even going on inside Red Bull? What was Horner under investigation for?” Carlos pressed on, trying to find answers. You were curious yourself

“Everyone is being weird. They’re keeping things from us. “ Checo added. You knew that they were truly left in the dark because if they knew they would’ve spilled instantly. NDAs be damned.

“Every interview, people keep asking if we know something! one more journalist and I swear I’ll run them over with my car! I hate each one of them” Max grumbled to himself.

You coughed. You knew that you were an exception but you couldn’t help but mess around with your friends.

“Don’t even, Y/N. You know you don’t count. “ Max waved you off.

“Wow! Thank you for that babe. Way to make a girl feel special” you said jokingly to the Dutch driver, as you winked dramatically. To which he only rolled his eyes — making you and the rest of the drivers laugh.

Max was immune to your flirting, unfortunately. It sucked especially when you had a tiny …. Ok big … HUGE crush on the 3 time world champion.

Max to you was like an Older brother’s best friend — Where you were the little sister crushing on him and you didn’t have a chance. You knew that like the other drivers, he just saw you as a little sister. But still you couldn’t help but fall the star driver of Red Bull.

Everything started when you brought your niece to the paddock because your sister had an emergency. You were scheduled to interview Checo in the RB motorhome and your niece was starting to feel fussy and you were slightly panicking on what to do— when Max suddenly came to your rescue and took your niece out to ice cream.

You admit you found Max attractive even before— like so damn attractive, but that was it— nothing more. But when you found Max carrying your niece in his arms as they played inside his garage, you knew that you were a goner to the charms of Max Verstappen.

You have been pinning for Max for a year now. You wished that you had the confidence and courage to just confess. But the fear of rejection freighted you, so you settled to just keep your friendship with the devastatingly handsome Red Bull champion.

As time went on, and nothing but friendship between you and Max developed — You’ve come to terms with the process of letting go of your feelings. Even when you’ve already met his mom and sister, hung out in his yacht and spent nights over his place when movie nights with Charles and his girlfriend went too late. You knew not to think anything of it.

And you were right to think nothing of it. Because not a week later, rumors had spread all over the paddock that Kelly Piquet had set her eyes on Max. You didn’t believe it at first, but when you saw with your own two eyes them engaged talking happily in his garage. The sparkle in Max’s eyes had solidified your will to move on.

A few weeks had passed and Kelly’s presence was constant in the paddock. Everyone had speculated that she had become Max’s girlfriend. But no one was sure, not even you — Max had been silent about it.

You tried to be happy for them you did. But you can’t blame yourself for wishing that it was you instead. Even to this day, you are still trying to forget and bury your feelings for Max.

“Y/N? Y/N? Oi Y/N” You suddenly were startled out of your thoughts. You forgot that you were still with the drivers in your office.

“What? Sorry, I just remembered something. What did you say?” You asked Charles as he was the one who called you.

“I asked if you had an interview today” Upon hearing the words of the Monegasque, your eyes grew wide as you remembered that you did have a job to do and you were indeed almost late.

“SHIT! I DO I’m late! “ You suddenly sprang up from your seat and quickly gathered the things you needed — while the 4 drivers looked at you with amusement.

“Who’s scheduled for you today, Y/N?” Max had also sat up from his seat and gave you an opened bottle of water.

You received the bottle from Max. You didn’t have to thank the driver — just one look from you and he knew.

The other drivers looked amongst themselves as they saw your exchange with Max. Everyone had a knowing look on their faces.

“I'm going to Mclaren today! I have the whole day with Lando. “ You said as you closed your once abandoned laptop and placed it in your bag — the one Max gave you on your birthday.

“What have you planned for Lando, Y/N?” Checo asked curiously. He still remembered his interview where you both made bracelets and stuffed toys for his daughters — his daughters loved it and went to sleep with it every single day.

“Oh! I’m taking Lando to a rage room, then drive-thru for food.” You explained happily to the older Mexican driver.

“Which part of that is the interview?” Charles had interjected

“While we eat the food in the parking lot, duh,” You said as if they should’ve already known. Well, they should by now.

“You know Y/N, Lando likes you right? ” Carlos had suddenly dropped a bomb on you. You didn’t expect it at all.

“What?” Max had suddenly said — catching all of you off guard. You didn’t understand, why Max had reacted so suddenly. But you pushed that aside for now as you continued to stuff everything you need in the bag

“What do you mean, Lando likes me?” You asked Carlos, with your eyebrows scrunched together.

“He likes you. Like you know? Take you out on dates and all that” Carlos replied as he gauged your reaction.

“Ohhhh, that’s cute! how did you even know about it, Carlos” you asked not taking any of it seriously.

“Cute?” You heard Max muttered under his breath.

“He told me. I won’t spoil anything else. I’m not even supposed to say that he likes you, but oh well.” Carlos shrugged as he finished off his ice cream.

“What do you think about Lando?” Charles suddenly asked you. The Ferrari driver leaned forward

“Will you date him if he asks you ?” Checo then joined the conversation.

“ You should say yes, I mean you two are the same-“ Charles had suddenly grown excited.

“Ok whoa, calm down dads. He hasn’t asked anything yet! “ you exclaimed

“But will you say yes if he asked?” Max then asked you, his eyes piercing your soul. After all of the other questions, Max was the one to Catch you off guard.

“Uh yes, I guess? I mean, why not? Lando is fun And he is single right … ” You were panicking so you said yes, even when you knew that you weren’t ready for anything like that since you still held feelings for Max.

“ YES! I thought that you-“ Charles wasn't able to finish his sentence when you cut him off.

“OK, bye guys! See you later. I need to go!” And just like that you were gone, leaving the four drivers in your office — not letting them question you further.

“I swear, that kid is weird.” Charles shakes his head from side to side at your actions.

“Lando likes Y/N?” Max had asked again just to make sure that he had heard the Spaniard correctly.

“ Lando is a good kid. They’ll make a good couple, no?” Checo asked no one in particular, as Max was not moving from where you left him.

“Wait, wait… since when did Lando like Y/N?” Max asked confused, looking green with jealousy. Fingers tingling as they clenched on itself

“Well he was interested in Y/N since the beginning but he backed off since everyone thought that you two had a thing” Carlos explained as he stood up and went to raid your snack stash.

“Yeah, but now you’re with the daughter of Piquet. what’s her name again? KELLY! yes, kelly. So Lando is taking his shot” Charles added

“You knew? Charles, you knew about Lando?” Max was aghast at the knowledge that was just receiving now.

“Well yeah? I was the one to encourage him to ask Y/N out. ” Charles shrugged nonchalantly. He knew about your feelings for the Red Bull driver, but he also saw how hurt you were when Max started seeing Kelly out of nowhere. Charles wanted to help his friends — specially the ones that he grew to love like his own sibling in any way that he could. Plus it was time for Y/N to have fun, and Lando Norris is exactly that.

“Why didn’t anyone tell me?” Max was conflicted. His emotions growing uncontrollably by the second.

“ Mate, we haven’t seen you for how many weeks! You were always out with your new girlfriend. Even Y/N had no contact with you “ Carlos explained to Max.

silence filled the room, when suddenly pings of notifications sounded all over the rooms.

And Charles couldn’t help but whistle.

“Well he sure does move past” he had added.

Your story

As Max looked at his phone. Your Ig story flashed. His heart had started to hurt and the feeling of a pit in his stomach grew. it was as if someone punched him right in the gut.

And another notification ping had popped . And it only made Max’s stomach churn even further.

landonorris

[fuckyeahgoodomens]

Good Omens graphic novel update: June 2024

Welcome to the June update. A lot of behind the scenes work at the moment but we're grabbing the travel sweets, popping in the Bentley and hitting the road. More on that below.

Admin

Ongoing reminder that the project FAQ can be found here. 

I pledged using my Apple ID, or no longer use the address my pledge is attached to, or I cannot work out what email address my pledge is connected to. What should I do? Please contact us via your Kickstarter account where the pledge is connected; we will be able to see on our system which address it is. If it's one you have access to, great! The FAQ has information on how to resend your invite link to access the PledgeManager. If it's one you are not able to access, then you can let us know which email is preferred and we can update this on the system, which will automatically send a new invite.

Events

We've had a lot of queries about when the Good Omens team will be attending events more formally, after some Aziraphale and Crowley spotting at conventions we'd been to previously. Well, we're excited to confirm the first: Good Omens HQ will be at ACME Comic Con in Glasgow, Scotland this September.

We'll be bringing the actual-real-life-home-to-Crowley-and-his-plants Bentley from Season 2 of Good Omens, the first time the car has been made available publicly for fans to come see and get photos with, ahead of its journey back to the set and the start of Season 3 filming.

We also see Quelin Sepulveda, aka Muriel, has been announced for the event for some additional ineffable joy.

You can get your tickets for ACME Comic Con here. We hope to see some of you there.

While we won't be rocking up with the Bentley to this next one, we want to let you know about Ineffable Con which, though sold out in person, is also taking place virtually in July. The fan-run event hosts great panels, auctions and more, with money raised going to Alzheimer’s Research UK, in memory of Sir Terry Pratchett.

Where next? We have - not an exaggeration - a list of about 200 events somewhere from when we asked fans this on Instagram and while we can't promise quite that amount of convention attendance, we're certainly looking to do some more things in future with Good Omens at large. Watch this space.  

Good Omens items...

This month has largely seen prototypes and samples for the wider Good Omens merch store arriving, and while we can't share those yet, we are certainly excited to see more fan product suggestions coming to life. That does, however, leave our public item updates a little slim on the ground.

To make up for that, here's some new panels from Colleen:

Also known as, "What could possibly go wrong?" And:

Also known as, "Well why don't you ▇▇▇ ▇▇▇▇▇▇ ▇▇▇ ▇▇!@#▇" or words to that effect, we'd imagine.  

Update from Colleen

Following such a positive response to Colleen's piece last month, bringing you behind the scenes into making the Good Omens graphic novel, we are delighted to say that she has agreed to write something for our updates going forward! For June, she's going more in depth into the process of flatting and the technicalities of colouring on screen vs print. Over to you, Colleen.

---

I mentioned the other month that I use a flatter to help me with technical work on GOOD OMENS, and here is a great example.

This is my original, hand drawn line art.

And this is the flatting file which was created using the MultiFill computer program.

It will put your eyes out.

The raw image above demonstrates how the color art lines up solidly under the line art. If it doesn't do that, you get a weird phenomenon in print called ghosting, a tiny little line of white around each segment of color. I had this issue on one major project and ended up redoing every single color file after I got a look at the first printing. Nearly two weeks of work.

The same image with the line art on top.

The layer order looks like this.

Background copy is the clean, line art layer.

I scan the art at 600 dpi, then make the blacks pure black, the whites pure white. Then I convert back to greyscale, then RGB, then duplicate the layer. Then I delete the white on the upper layer so the line art layer is transparent but the blacks on that layer are not.

If you have blacks on a layer that has been multiplied, you can see slight color through those blacks. You want pure black.

The lower layer is where I use the MultiFill program to create the digital flats. First you use MultiFill to drop in the random colors, then the companion plug-in Flatter Pro to make those colors seal under the black lines.

This probably sounds like a silly thing to worry about, but if the flat colors don’t line up perfectly under the black line art, you get the dreaded ghosting I mentioned. You can see it below in this image. It’s a tiny little white line that will appear around the black lines and color areas.

This drives me nuts and is an absolute nightmare to fix.

It’s a very common problem, especially for people who work for web and don’t anticipate the problems going from web to print.

What looks great on your computer can cause big problems in print.

From here, my flatter Jul Mae Kristoffer, who is way over in the Philippines, does flatting that is more in keeping with the areas of color I want to isolate. As you see on Layer 1.

But again, this is still pretty ugly, and not what I would use for final color. Flatting is a technical issue, not a creative one, though in some cases a flatter will make choices you may use. Most of the time they don't.

Here is my final color page.

Sometimes my MultiFill flats are so wonky I have a hard time getting my brain to snap out of what I see before me. If I get stuck, it's a good idea to just pick at it and come back to it later.

If it really, really bothers me, I’ll take the MultiFill flatter layer and desaturate the color so it doesn’t poke my eyes out.

Here’s an example. The digital flat file.

The desaturated flat file that doesn’t make me want to poke my eyes out.

And the final color.

Sometimes I just put in a solid white layer so I don’t see the flats at all. Flatting is there to allow you to easily pick spots to color in, and doesn’t usually appear in the final work.

Sometimes I want to create my colors using transparent color over a white ground, which is more delicate in the final.

Here’s an example from Neil Gaiman’s American Gods. I also selected all black line art here and converted it to sepia to give it a vintage look. Except for the fairies. They’re green.

A colorist must also consider color settings.

Different clients can have different requirements. I find these color settings, which I got from the Hi-Fi Studio, to be pretty solid. I use them as my default for all my projects unless otherwise requested. If your publisher has other settings, they’ll usually send you a csf file which you can upload to Photoshop. The program will save your files and you can just switch between them as you need them.

This tells the printer things about the paper and the spread of the ink you will use. That’s what dot gain means - it makes printed color look darker than intended, so you set up your files to account for it.

When you hover your pointer over each box, it will tell you what each setting is supposed to accomplish.

Another really important thing to consider when coloring comics is color range.

I’m coloring this book in RGB range, but for print you use CMYK.

I’m about to confuse the heck out of some people with this post, I’m afraid. But here we go.

Here is this shot in RGB color setting.

And here is the same page calibrated for print in CMYK.

The biggest shift is in the reds. Print cannot match those reds.

You may not see much difference here, but it’s the sort of thing that drives artists crazy.

A computer should be perfect for conveying exactly what you want, right? It's all just 0's and 1's, binary information, and that information should be the same from one computer to the next?

Nope. Not even close.

First off, computer monitors must be calibrated. You can use a computer program or a tool that measures the color on your computer screen and then adjusts the color to an industry standard.

Have you ever been in an electronics shop where a bunch of TV shows were on display, all of them playing the same show, and have you noticed how different the color was from one TV to the next?

It's like that.

I freely admit I don't pay a whole lot of attention to calibration, but if I were a professional photographer I would. I'd have a little spectrometer attached to my screen and software would adjust my monitor to the best possible standard range. As it is, I just use the default setting on my computer and hope for the best.

If your monitor is properly calibrated and your art is shown on another monitor that is properly calibrated, the art will look almost identical from one monitor to the next.

YAY!

But from one monitor to the next, that's about where the resemblance ends.

Colors are calibrated to something called RGB, or Red, Green, Blue.

All colors come from a mix of red green and blue. At their greatest intensity, all the colors in the spectrum together become pure white light.

This is why RGB is called ADDITIVE color, because you ADD colors from the spectrum to get ALL colors, and all colors create the entirety of the rainbow, and pure white light.

Your computer monitor, your phone, your television, all images are created via light using RGB, a gamut that covers all possible colors that can be created.

That's a lot.

And that's why some of the colors you see on your TV or phone are so deep and intense.

For the widest possible range of color and intensity, you use RGB.

Unfortunately, there is what you can create with light, and then there is what you can create with pigment or ink. And that is why printing what you see on your computer almost never looks exactly like what you see in a book.

For printing, you must use a color setting known as CMYK. This stands for Cyan, Magenta, Yellow and Key/Black.

In printing, the pure blue is actually Cyan and the pure red is actually Magenta.

CMYK color range is not created by addition, but by SUBTRACTION. In order to get the color you want, you reduce the percentage of one of the four colors for ink mixing. Mixing all colors, instead of giving you white, gives you black.

The gamut of CMYK is limited to what can be created with ink.

You've probably heard the term four color press? This is what that means. Four colors, with each color of ink run over the paper on rollers which, combined in varying layers of opacity, create all the printing colors you see.

But remember, what you see on your computer monitor and what CMYK gamut can handle are two different things.

Now, I’ve been really careful with the color settings on Good Omens, so there haven’t been any big surprises, but let me show you a snippet of a project I did for the French fashion house Balmain.

The RGB version:

And then this shot after it was converted to a CMYK file for print.

That's a pretty big difference.

Now, you see this shift mostly with vibrant colors, such as that pink there. But other colors hardly changed at all, right?

That's because this issue is about range of color. CMYK and RGB occupy a shared range which you can see demonstrated by this graphic I got from Wikipedia.

The graphic shows the RGB ranges supported by various digital formats. SWOP CMYK is the most common range my publishers use. Note that the bounding box line shared by the RGB and SWOP CMYK formats shares about half the range space. So whatever RGB colors you use that are outside that range will be digitally converted to the smaller SWOP CMYK range.

And you may not like what you end up with.

As you can see, some of the most ethereal and intense colors get lost outside of the SWOP CMYK boundary.

A look at the Dark Horse Comics color settings in Photoshop. Theoretically, this information should prevent your art from looking like mud on publication.

Now, after I just told you the dangers of coloring in RGB then converting to CMYK for print, I tell you I am coloring Good Omens in RGB anyway. There’s a couple of reasons for this.

Remember, RGB give you a greater range of color, so it can be to your advantage to preserve your original files using a format that gives you the greatest range.

Again, here is the unaltered file.

You can see what the CMYK result will be simply by clicking the Proof Colors button here. This will show you how the art will convert.

And the Gamut Warning will show you which colors are out of gamut range for print.

The intensity of that magenta and that purple in the top right are not going to print true.

This is how it will look in final.

So even if you do what you think is perfect color on screen, there is no way it can perfectly convert to print. Almost everything will involve a little bit of compromise.

Even though you have to consider the color shift issues, preserving your files in RGB gives you greater wiggle room, especially if you get lucky someday and get to work with a printer who can print in 6 colors. Or maybe some technology you don’t know about will pop up and make printing super glorious. Who knows.

Regardless, you should keep an eye on that gamut and color for CMYK print, while preserving your master files in RGB.

Until next time.

[gullamor]

Nothing Good Happens In The Deep Roads

Hi, I'm new here to Dragon Age Tumblr. Publicly, anyway. I lurk. Anyway, I've been playing Veilguard like many of us I imagine. For show and tell I have brought you the most paranoia-inducing segment of one of the companion quests and I like... haven't seen anyone mention it or talk about it so I would like to add it to the collective borg of screams. So, like, spoilers. Duh. You've been warned.

Still here? No turning back. Okay good. Welcome.

SO ANWAY. I'm on a second playthrough now, trying out new options and classes and things. I get around to that point where you start to get companion quests fired up and Lace's kicks in earlier than a lot of them to me at least. Ya go down to the Deep Roads where nothing good ever happens. And my first time through, visiting Kal-Sharok I distinctly remember it being... fine. Like there were darkspawn and stuff but that's just the deep roads and they cranked the gross factor on the darkspawn anyway, so... what gives? Where are my bad vibes and sad times now of going down in the deep roads where nothing good ever happens? Enter playthrough numero dos. I'm picking through Kal-Sharok, really getting up in there. Trying to find all the things I missed. I was standing at the precipice before delving down into the Deep Roads. And my eye snags on this fucking thing:

Now, y'all with color coordination skills may note that all the bad guys and evil shit down here is red-coded. In my brain, I was just thinking to myself. Huh... that looks like a Venatori crystal. ... I don't remember there being Venatori on Lace's quest. So naturally, I'm curious. I continue on, and try to get up closer to get a better angle.

Huh.. that doesn't look like a venatori smashy smashy crystal... that looks like a person... And then ALL AT ONCE I recall where her questline continues and how there's angry Red Lyrium Titan Lace by the end of her questline AND that Valta mentions 'something has found Lace' when we're talking to them and then we get jumped. There's no shot that's angry lyrium Lace... right..? So now like any sane person, I'm on my guard the entire rest of that quest. And I was fucking right to be BECAUSE SHE STALKS YOU THE ENTIRE TIME. I eventually remembered as I was playing you can zoom in with the photo mode they blessed us with and could see Lace. But they stalk you through the entire area until you get to the chamber where Valta is. I don't know if I caught them all, and I am too frightened to go back and find it so I dump all my findings here for the community to scream with me about.

tl;dr, and my thesis statement in all things with these games Nothing. Good. Happens. In the Deep Roads.

[tartagliove]

TO DEVOUR tartaglia x reader ✧ 1.3k words

childe would never wish the curse of being a vampire upon you. but you eating a pomegranate paints such a pretty picture that he can’t help but give in to some of his desires.

tags and warnings ✧ vampire!Childe, gender neutral reader (no pronouns used), he’s so obsessed with you, sfw but suggestive, finger sucking, he licks you. note ✧ hm. i’m having Tartaglia lick reader in a lot of my fics… um. anyway. this idea came to me as I was eating pomegranate last night! it falls after the events of my vampire!Childe fic (bloodlust!! blood…love?) coming on february 14th and since I couldn’t figure out how to put it into the fic, I’m sharing it separately. hope you enjoy!

vampire!Childe hears you before he sees you.

The pomegranate skin tears beneath your hands, each seed plucked from the white membrane with a soft snap. The arils pop, bursting between your teeth before the seeds crack under the pressure.

Your signature scent of vanilla and cinnamon sugar grows stronger as he finds you in the dining room, sitting at the table with a plate of the split open pomegranate before you. The seeds gleam a dark ruby under the steady, soft flames of the candles. You look up when he enters, a smile spreading across your face.

"Welcome back, Ajax. How was your day?"

He pulls out the chair beside you at the table, settling into the seat and resting his chin on his hand. His eyes track your every movement as you pluck more pomegranate seeds, his predatory gaze cold and blue, yet you do not flinch under his stare. 

“It was good! Very eventful,” he says.

There’s a satisfied curve to his lips. You raise an eyebrow, noting the healthier tint of pink beneath his skin as your fingers work to loosen some seeds. “Tell me, who had the misfortune of fighting you today?”

His smile turns into a full-blown grin. Of course you’d be able to tell. “It was a shapeshifter today. I don’t think I got to see its true form, but that doesn’t matter. The forms that it changed into during our fight were exhilarating enough!”

He continues to tell you about the fight as you eat the pomegranate. The seeds crunch and a pleased hum leaves your lips as the sweet and tart juice spreads across your tongue. His eyes darken at the noise.

You don’t notice, only focused on the sound of his voice as you break off a new segment of pomegranate. As the flesh tears apart, your hand slips and a few arils burst under the pressure of your fingers. Dark red juice sprays across your skin and sinks under your nails. You let out a small huff of disappointment but carry on with eating the fruit. Each time you lift your hand up to your mouth with ruby kernels between your fingers, the droplets shift across your hand.

Childe watches the deep red juice trail down the back of your hand, meandering past your wrist. It continues to slide down your arm, glistening and taunting him under the candlelight.

He fails to realize that he stopped talking until you hold your hand out toward him, a small pile of pomegranate seeds resting on your palm.

“Do you want some?” you offer.

“No,” Childe manages to push out.

The rough edge to his voice makes you study him, taking in the way his pupils have almost fully eclipsed his iris. He had been staring so intently at you eating your fruit that you thought he wanted some. “More for me, then.”

You lift your hand to your lips, tilting your head back to toss the palm full of arils into your mouth. When you pull your hand away, he notices that your lips are stained a few shades darker than they normally are, a deep red clinging to them in a way that makes him think of you eating—drinking—something else. The trail of pomegranate juice that has made its way down your arm beads at your elbow, before the droplet falls onto the table with the softest plop.

Childe snaps.

His hand flashes out, fingers curling around your wrist. 

You look down, eyes wide at the way his hand flexes as he battles his own strength and desires, his fingertips angling away from you to protect you from his too-sharp nails. Eyes moving up to his face, you see his gaze is fixated on the pomegranate juice dripping down your arm. 

Realization strikes and a coy smile curls at your lips. 

Leaning in toward him, so close that he can feel the faint brush of air against his skin, you whisper, “Are you sure you don’t want any, Ajax?”

His eyes snap up to yours, all dark depths of the sea. When you give permission in the slight incline of your head, he raises your arm and lowers his head.

There’s a moment where he pauses. He takes a second to listen to the flutter of your heart, feeling the tremors of your pulse beneath his fingers. Though you look unaffected, your racing heartbeat betrays you. It pleases him immensely to know that he has this effect on you.

Then, Childe opens his mouth. Sharp and elongated canines come into view before his tongue darts out to catch the pomegranate juice about to drip from your arm. He locks eyes with yours as he continues to follow the trail of red staining your skin, his tongue warm as he laps and licks, not just tasting the fruit but also tasting you.

When he reaches the back of your wrist, he unfurls his fingers and turns your arm so he can run his tongue over your pulse and the thin skin where your scent is stronger. 

The pomegranate juice is sweet and tangy. If he imagines hard enough, the tang can turn into a more metallic bite, as if you had just fed off of someone—as if you had fed off of him, it’s his blood trailing down your arm and staining your lips red. At that picture, Childe pulls back from you. A moan escapes him as his eyes flutter shut, breaking eye contact with you for the first time for a shiver to run through him.

When he opens his eyes again, he finds you staring at him, eyes dark and wide, lips parted, enchanted by his beauty and in awe of the reaction you draw from him without having to do a thing.

He flashes you a satisfied smile, showing gratitude for letting him indulge in his vampire instincts. Childe will make it worth your while.

Pulling your arm toward him, he lifts your hand to his mouth. His tongue laves across the back of your hand, tracing the trails of red weaving across your veins and tendons. He licks the webbing between your fingers, scraping his teeth over the flesh between your thumb and pointer finger. Then he cleans your fingers, one at a time, putting each one into his mouth and sucking gently as his tongue works over them. He spends extra time at your fingertips, licking at the nails that have been stained a deep red. Yours are so different from his own, he muses, filed blunt so you can work without the fear of breaking them.

Finally, Childe pulls away. He is satisfied with how your hand is now clean, yet you’ve been turned into an utter mess. 

Your face feels too hot and you’re squirming in your seat. He can hear your heart fluttering away in your chest, sees how your shoulders rise and fall as you take shallow, rapid breaths.

He can’t help but tease you more. “What’s the matter, hm?”

He kisses your fingertips, then nips at the pad of your pointer finger. A whimper escapes your lips; the sound so sweet to his ears. You shift a bit more, so flustered under his piercing gaze as you struggle to come up with a response.

Finally, you manage to piece together a stammering, “W-what has gotten into you? You can’t just- you can’t do this to me!”

The grin on Childe’s face is downright devious. He stands, moving before you so his legs bracket your knees as he leans over you. “Do what? I’m just kissing you.”

“How was any of that kissing? You were devouring me!” Your eyes nearly cross as he slides a hand behind your neck and tilts your head back, his face hovering over yours with dark ocean eyes dancing in delight.

“Was I? Let me kiss you too, then.”

Childe closes the distance, lips slotting over your pomegranate-stained ones. And kiss you, he does.

note ✧ ahhhh I'm so •///• this man makes me sooooo unwell. writing this vampire au is making me lose it!!!! btw please forgive the inconsistent fic layouts, I'm still trying to find something I'm happy with ahh.

a little bit of writing trivia: I wanted to focus a lot on sound in the opening, because that’s a sense that has changed for Childe since he became a vampire. there also isn't too explicit of a mention that he's envisioning you as a vampire but I hope that still came through. I also didn’t want to mention the word “blood” until he’s imagining you feeding off of his blood. hehe c:

reblogs and comments are much appreciated; i'd love to know your thoughts on this!

[the-ancient-dragons]

Welcome to my new (old) series called Overcomplicating the Pyrrhain Tribes (part 1 of 7!)

I have many more Overcomplicated designs to come (and I eventually want to move on to full bodies and action doodles!)

I started it sometime in January or Febuary, as I was applying to a digital creature program, when I was inspired to try and use real animal anatomy on the canon WoF tribes.

Do they need it? No!! Tui and Joy Ang have some of the coolest dragon designs and they don't need to be changed. I was simply inspired to practice anatomy and wanted to see what I could come up with. Plus, I've always drawn the dragons in Ang's style and wanted to see what I could come up with on my own.

Details and explanation below.

Otherwise, next Friday is the SeaWing!!! See you then!

Now, why are there two SkyWings and why do they not look the same? Because the second one, the one with the yellow horns, is actually the first one I drew. I didn't know what style I would be using and it was not well thought out. The first, the really pretty shiny one, is actually the seventh one I drew, when I had a clear idea.

This SkyWing is inspired by birds of prey (eagles specifically) found in the deadly eye and sharp beak. It isn't a real bird beak but I found that I really like the shape and style of an avian beak on reptiles, and the SkyWing had it originally. It looks better than the first version anyway. It's also got some vague monitor lizard and komodo dragon aspects in it, with the face scales (and especially around the eyes), but my favourite bit is the horns. I didn't document what species I used but I want to say it was a mountain goat (for obvious reasons). One neat feature about the horns is that each segment represents one year on top of the seven from the original horn. So seven years plus six segments means this particular SkyWing is thirteen years old. Just a silly headcanon on top of this headcanon design. Finally, the neck scales look less like fish scales and more like snake scales (using a snake for reference). I always loved those and wanted MORE of them. Plus it fits with their underbelly.

[sierrale8ne]

40 DAYS AND 40 NIGHTS CHAPTER ONE

thought i’d be lying if i said ‘i didn’t want you to myself.’ when you look me in my eyes and, tell me that it’s mine, i…

pairing wnba!paige bueckers x singer!oc

warnings maraye’s b*****end

May 2025 — New York City, New York

“5 minutes, Carter! You’re on in 10!” I hear my manager, Kaylee, speak from behind me. She didn’t even look up from her phone.

I’m seated backstage at The Tonight Show with Jimmy Fallon getting ready to go out on stage for my segment of the show. My ready room is packed. Heavy makeup cases and hair products sit on the vanity and nearby tables. My hair and makeup and stylist people moving in and out of the room to get me picture perfect.

“I’ll see you when you get off. Good luck out there, beautiful.” 

“Thank you.” I respond, feeling a soft pair of lips press against my cheek.

It’s my— I don’t even know what to call him— boyfriend, Julian. We’d been going out for a bit , no longer than around three months, but nothing had been made officially-official yet. His full head of curly brown hair tickles my eyebrow when he kisses me, bringing a flush to my already pinked cheeks. He walks out of the ready room, I assume to his seat out in the audience alongside my sister Casandra. 

My hand goes up to my cheek, up against where his lips left a sloppy mark against my makeup. My makeup artist, Tyler, swats my hand away before I can smudge what he just spent two hours working on. 

“He’s gonna ask you about him.” Kaylee’s voice cuts through the air.

“What?”

“Jimmy. He’s gonna ask you about Julian. Not directly, of course, but he’ll ask if you have a muse and blah blah blah.” Her work phone slips into the back pocket of her wind leg jeans. The click of the black heels on her feet grow louder as she approaches me. “Don’t answer, say you get inspired by a ton of things but not anyone in particular.”

My face twists up. “Why should I do that?”

Kaylee sighs. We’ve talked about this a multitude of times, and I can tell it irritates her more and more each time I pry. My career is based on sharing my most vulnerable and intimate moments with people all over the world. I didn’t mind sharing if someone had influenced my music or not.

“It keeps the interview focused on you and how amazing you’ve been so far this year. If you do that, it’s gonna be about your relationship. You don’t want that, I promise you.” Kaylee explains.

I nod understandably, but my mind thinks to the future conversation Julian and I are most likely going to have about me not claiming him publicly. A conversation we’ve had too many times for my liking, for only being a few months in.

Oh, and unofficial might I add.

The creak of the heavy white door opening pulls us out of our conversation. There’s a man in a white Polo and black slacks with a headset on. “Call time. Let’s get you out there, Maraye.” He speaks.

I nod, standing up from my seat. I quickly brush a hand over my hair, making sure that any flyaways from my jet black side part unit stay down where they should be. 

“Go get ‘em, Carter.” Kaylee encourages, rubbing my back softly and smiling her soft comforting smile.

—

“Fresh off of her first studio album release, please give a warm welcome to our next guest, Maraye!” 

The start of The Roots introduction music is my cue to walk out, and I do. The Amina Muaddi heels on my feet moving across the black stage. My dress is a nice maroon color, a sleeveless u-neck top that fits my body like a glove. 

I smile out to the live audience, waving my hand before taking a set on the blue-gray couch. The applause dies down and Jimmy looks over at me, the cover of my latest album, ‘f*** daisies' is propped up between his hands on the wood table.

“Thank you so much for having me!” I greet, crossing one of my legs over the other.

“No, thank you, for coming out! I wanna jump right into this,” he speaks. The camera pans to the album cover. “Because this album has taken the internet by storm in the last month that it’s been out.”

“Yeah. It’s been very surreal. I’ve had EP’s that have done great, but all the love on this album has been incredible.”

The audience breaks out into more cheers and applause and I feel my heart nearly triple in size.

To say my life had taken a complete 180° turn in the last five months would be an understatement. From spending last fall on tour with Kehlani, to getting my communications degree from the University of Southern California, and now the release of my album. I was truly blessed and grateful.

“What’s so impressive about all of this is that you’re only 22 years old, and you have three songs off this project that have spots on the billboard top 15.” Jimmy praises. “Out of those three—f*** daisies, SOS (Sex on Sight), and Unpredictable with your good friend Destin Conrad— which one would you say was your favorite to make?”

I take a deep breath, my eyebrows furrow with a look of thoughtfulness which makes the audience laugh.

“Probably SOS. To have Usher featured on that song was a once-in-a-lifetime experience. And I’m from Atlanta, so having an ATL legend on my first project was huge.” I answer.

“Did you, y'know, learn anything from him for future music?”

“The way he works with layering his vocals was unbelievable. I think that’s why SOS is one of my favorite works, the harmonies on that song are unreal and I give all credit to him.”

“Would you say that this song had a muse? I work for the people, so I have to ask.” Jimmy teases, and I force a smile. I could just hear Kaylee’s voice in the back of my head screaming I told you so.

I shift in my seat. My eyes bounced from him, to the man I had coined my boyfriend sitting in the audience. “I use a ton of experiences for inspiration in my music. Things that have happened to me but also to those around me.” I start.

From the corner of my eye I see Julian, the red button up that covers his shoulders and his gold cross chain keeps him in my view perfectly. He moves in his seat and I just know he’s uncomfortable, or angered, or something else that I can’t really bring myself to care about with all these cameras pointing at me right now.

“So I wouldn’t say it came from anyone in particular. I probably just had a little too much wine that night.” I joke, keeping the atmosphere lively and energetic.

Jimmy laughs and The Roots play some sort of jingle in the background, both of which make me release a breath I didn't know I had been holding. 

“Well we all can’t wait for more music from you Maraye. Everyone stay tuned, Maraye will be giving us a special performance of SOS when we come back from the break!”

—

May 2025 — Los Angeles, California 

It’s later at night, 9pm when I finally take a seat on my living room couch. The recently rented apartment smelled like vanilla thanks to the candle Rickea decided to light while I was grabbing the pizza.

Why my teammate decided to surprise visit me when I could be resting for our season opener tomorrow night was beyond me. I thought it must be a little rookie hazing, messing me up for the first game, but I wouldn’t tell them that. 

Cameron was here too, a massage gun up near her still recovering knee. 

I scrolled mindlessly on my phone, listening partially to what Rickea was telling me about tomorrow’s plans. Some sitcom played on the tv, or a talk show. Again, I wasn’t very sure.

“Hey, I’m talking to you!” Rickea yelled. She dropped down on the couch, nudging me enough to drop my phone from my grasp. “Your first pro game is tomorrow! Can you act excited?”

“I am excited!” I shot back, playfully pushing her back off of me. “You’re just yelling in my ear right now, ‘Kea.”

“Ugh they grow up so fast.” Cameron speaks up. She wipes her eyes from fake unshed tears. I roll my eyes at them both. These cannot be my teammates.

“I’m older than you?”

“And yet, you’re a rookie and I’m not. Matter of fact, come massage my knee for me, rook.” 

I reach for the pillow closest to my right and throw it at her before she can even blink. Which she retaliates for by tossing one back at me.

“Okay enough! God, you guys are children.” Rickea interjects. Her hand reaches for the TV remote. “Tryna watch my friend on TV and y’all wanna act like fools.” 

“Do it at your place then! The fuck?”

Rickea pushes me towards the other end of the couch, and I huff and flop against it. Cam begins to laugh. I reach over for another pillow but she stops, raising her arms in defense.

The volume on the screen in front of me increases, but this time I play attention. Jimmy Fallon is on, and his introduction of whoever is the guest tonight cuts through the air. After a few seconds of silence that’s when I see it.

Suddenly I’ve never found a late night talk show so interesting.

“That’s yo’ friend?” I ask Rickea. And she squeals, like a schoolgirl, ignoring my question. “‘Kea?”

“Yeah, ‘Raye! Doesn’t she look so pretty?” She asks no one in particular. But I still find myself slyly nodding.

I listen intently to her voice, and how she sings the very sensual song beautifully. She was harmonizing with her background vocalists in a way that made my jaw drop. And suddenly, I’m pissed at myself for not only not having this song in my library, but also for knowing whose voice is mesmerizing me right now.

And even more than that, she’s stunning.

The lighting of the stage she sings on gives an illusion like she’s glowing. Or maybe she actually is. My eyes physically cannot leave the screen. She is in a maroon dress and just when I think I can’t be anymore enamored with the sight, the camera pans out to her entire body. 

I didn't even realize that her performance was over until a commercial cuts on. 

“Ain’t she just incredible.” Rickea cheeses at her friend like a proud mother. 

Cam agrees with her. “She’s running my playlist right now.”

“Paige?”

“Huh?”

“I said she’s good right? You like R&B, you should hop on the Maraye train.” Rickea teases and I think that she didn’t pick up on my obvious drooling for the last five minutes. “I promise not all her songs are freaky.”

I clear my throat, nodding at her. 

“No, yeah, she’s,” suddenly any possible descriptors that I could use at the moment are stuck in the back of my throat.

“She’s incredible.”

[outofconcheol]

Tune In For Love (KSM x GN!Reader)

pairing: college radio host!Seungmin x co-host!reader

genres/au/rating: sfw, mostly fluff, the mildest of angst, idiots to lovers, pg

summary: When you and Seungmin come up with a crazy new idea for your radio show, a week of chaos and unspoken feelings unfolds. As you learn more about relationships, will the two of you tune in for love? Or decide to shut it down completely?

warnings: swearing, fake exes trope, a playlist of seungmin coded songs mentioned, stupid amounts of pining, mentions of relationship drama, they almost kiss, then they actually kiss, one mild (joking ) threat of violence, Jeongin being the best wingman ever, RAIN, Ningning, Joshua, Cheol, and Day6 all make cameos

word count: 2.8k

a/n: happy Seungmin day!! honestly this could have been a whole fic on its own but i'm happy with this cute little drabble! this draws some inspiration from the ex talk by rachel lynn solomon. our boy deserves all the love, i hope you enjoy!

“Okay everyone, this has been another week at The Sound FM, the university’s #1 radio station! ____ and Seungmin signing off!”

Your voice fades out to the tune of the hit that Seungmin had selected for the week, ears perking up at the rumble of the bass and the tick tick tick of the hi-hat. Another Day6 song. Congratulations this time. 

“When will you admit that you’re Day6’s number one fan?”

“When you admit that you’re their number two,” Seungmin adjusts his glasses, a devious smirk lighting up his face. 

(You were, but you would never give Seungmin the satisfaction.)

“That segment on how to deal with the stress of midterms turned out great! What should we do next?”

You fidget with your pen, tapping it against your notepad, twirling it around in your fingers, before moving to put it behind your ear–

Seungmin’s hands shoot out, fingers clasping around yours for a brief moment, and a shiver runs through you, despite the fact that it was sunny outside with not a cloud in sight.

“I had an idea, actually, well it’s not my idea, Jeongin brought it up..”

For however composed the two of you were on air, you turned into awkward rambling messes when the mics were off. It had always been like that though. You’d been hosting the show with Seungmin for the better part of a year and you still didn’t know why you felt shy around him, or why you’d barely progressed beyond simple acquaintances.

“There’s this girl that uh, he, yeah he wants to impress, so he was asking if our next segment could maybe have something to do with dating advice.” 

“That is sooo much better than the segment on recycling tips I was planning,” you nudge him, oblivious to the way his ears turn red.

“Oooh but what if we make it spicy you know? Like approach relationships from a different angle?”

“What angle?” Seungmin rubs at the back of his neck. “As far as I know, neither of us are in a relationship. I mean, right?”

“Right but no one else has to know that! What if we pretend that we’re exes, who broke up? Hindsight is always 20/20, people will eat that up!”

“I thought I was supposed to be the menace here,” Seungmin’s tone is deadpan but his eyes sparkle with mischief.

“What can I say, you’re rubbing off on me Min,” you giggle. “So, what do you say we put your charm to good use?”

“You think I’m charming ___?” 

You miss the excitement in his tone, writing it off as enthusiasm for the whole absurdity of this plan.

“Who knows, Min! Maybe we’ll even find people! This is so exciting!”

Seungmin pauses briefly, a choked sound escaping his mouth, but you think you imagine it, watching him straighten and nod.

Laughter fills the studio as you bicker back and forth about what to include and how the next week would go. It was a risk, but you hoped it would pay off — both on the airwaves and maybe even for your stagnant love life. The possibilities were endless.

“Hello, and welcome to Tune in For Love! We are your hosts, ___ and Seungmin, and for the next week we’ll be tackling all your relationship questions and concerns!”

Your voice booms into the mic, echoing throughout the tiny studio, and you take a moment to mute yourself, heart pounding in your ears. Butterflies had begun to bubble up in your chest – you were really doing this.

“You ready for this?” Seungmin’s voice knocks you out of your daze, and you look over to see his lips twist into a lazy smile, running his fingers through his hair.

Fuck. Why did that make your stomach flip-flop?

You give him a shaky nod. It was probably just the rush of trying something new, so different from what you were used to. The simultaneous thrill and terror of dipping your toes into uncharted waters. 

Seungmin unmutes the mic, his softer, more melodious voice reverberating into the windscreen. He’d make a great singer, you think. Maybe for your next segment you could convince him to croon on air.

“We’re your resident experts on dating, whether it's still in the early stages of puppy love, the cool cruising of the honeymoon phase, or the bitter sting of love gone wrong. We have all your answers, right here, right now on The Sound FM!”

“Trust me, we’ve had experience with all of those,” you chuckle.

The story just falls off your tongue – a tumultuous end to a relationship that had never existed, one full of angst and heartbreak that even the finest writer couldn’t think of. Seungmin interrupts you spontaneously to respond to your dramatic anecdotes with dry quips of his, and you can’t believe it — you actually sound like a couple. A real couple.

“How was I supposed to know you were allergic to garlic? You let me take you to an Italian restaurant on the first date!”

“As my boyfriend, you should have asked my best friend about my allergies! That’s like standard dating protocol,” you shoot back, making sure to smile so that Seungmin knows you’re not serious.

“Noted, I’ll keep that in mind for the next relationship,” Seungmin grunts, the air becoming thick with a tension you can’t pinpoint.

Clearing your throat, your fingers hover over the buttons of the soundboard.

“How about we take some listener calls instead?”

The line crackles to life, a caller named Ningning groaning about how her girlfriend forget their anniversary and didn’t even apologize.

“It’s an honest mistake,” Seungmin mutters. 

“I don’t think so,” you counter, chewing your lip. “It’s important to be considerate of special moments like anniversaries, birthdays. It means you care. I mean Seungmin probably doesn’t even remember mine–”

“October 17th,” he interrupts you, and you go rigid. How did he even know?

I asked Jeongin, he mouths, and it only leaves you more confused. Why would he need to know that? It leaves you more embarrassed that you don’t know his exact day, only that it was sometime in September.  

Ningning rambles on, thanking you both for the added perspective and resolving to make things right with her girlfriend. You feel your heart warm at her determination, amazed at the effect that you and Seungmin had already managed to have on your listeners. 

Seungmin closes out the show, the easygoing and carefree chords of Polaroid Love ringing into the mic, and you think to yourself, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all. 

As the sun sets, campus comes alive, buzzing with excitement. You glance out the window, watching students filter out of the library, walking towards the commons for a cup of coffee, or hugging outside their dorms. A deep pang of longing hits your gut, not sure whether its from watching them outside or the fact that you’re cramped here in the tiny studio, band posters all over the walls, and Seungmin is playing Love You For A Long Time, Maggie Rogers’ ethereal voice filling the space between you. 

“Had to ease you into our next listener call,” Seungmin grins into the mic. “This one is – ouch. It might hit home for some of us, I mean you all.”

“Hi, ___ and Seungmin? I’m Joshua, a senior. I’m calling because I have a dilemma – my best friend Seungcheol just started dating my ex, and I’m not sure how to feel. On one hand I wanna be happy for them, but on the other hand, I’m a mess. What would you do if you found out one of you was dating someone else?”

“Oh.” Seungmin breathes out, and he remains there, lips parted like he’s frozen. An awkward silence falls over the studio, and you’re sure Joshua is blinking on the other end of the line, wondering what the hell just happened.

“I’m not sure,” you shudder, thinking of the hypothetical situation. But it wasn’t so hypothetical. You and Seungmin were free to date people. There was nothing stopping you. But it still felt wrong somehow.

“I would give yourself some space, Joshua. Take time to confront your own feelings about this, and when you’re ready you can decide what to do. Let yourself heal first.”

“That’s a good answer,” Seungmin whispers, and you panic, muttering out a rushed goodbye before cutting the broadcast.

“Wow,” you sigh. “That was, I–, I guess I didn’t think of that when I suggested this.”

“Think of what?” Seungmin’s eyes glimmer with interest, and he leans in closer.

“How shit would get so deep? Like how would I actually react if that happened to me? I don’t even want to think about it.”

“Sometimes this feels almost like we’re not pretending,” Seungmin murmurs, a strained laugh escaping his throat, a mask for the change in his tone. 

You’re not sure what you want to say, but it feels like you should say something. The moment hangs heavy in between you two, and you don’t remember how Seungmin got so close, brushing his thumb against your cheek.

“Seungmin, I–” 

“You had a piece of hair in your face,” he responds, straightening up to stretch his arms. “It’s late, want me to grab you an americano?”

Shaking your head, you manage to muster up a weak response, telling him to go ahead without you. He nods slightly, before throwing his jacket on and slipping out the door, leaving you alone.

An unsettling dilemma dawns on you – this was supposed to be an act, but why did it feel so real?

“You know,” Jeongin’s loud chewing echoes in the dining hall, Seungmin bristling as he watches his friend stuff five french fries into his mouth at once. “I should revoke your roommate privileges for this stunt you pulled. I thought you were grumpy before, but breaking up with ____ has taken it to a whole new level.”

Seungmin scowls, cursing under his breath at Jeongin. Yanking his headphones out of his ears, the lamenting tune of These Days by Wallows cuts off abruptly. 

Outside the rain patters, echoing his stormy emotions. Over the course of the past week, his mood had felt like he was on the world’s most nausea-inducing roller coaster ride. The highs were the times he got to spend with you in the studio, cracking jokes and watching your eyes shine as the two of you came up with the next devious plot for the show. The lows were the knot in his stomach every time someone would call in with a question that hit a little too hard.

After this week, he was glad the show would end, and maybe you guys could go back to the way things were before. That easy, comfortable dynamic that always existed between you two.

“Bullshit,” Jeongin sees the way his eyes zone out, like he can read Seungmin’s mind. “I know you, and I know what you’re thinking and it’s absolute bullshit. You’re in too deep, hyung.”

“I’ll fucking punch you,” Seungmin hisses. “What the hell am I supposed to do, huh? Just spill to ___ that this isn’t some game for me? That my feelings are real? Is that what you wanted to hear?”

“Hyung–”

A gasp echoes from behind him, and Seungmin turns to see you behind him. Your lip trembles, and you lock eyes with him, a tear escaping the corner before you’re turning on your heels, running out of the dining hall. 

Seungmin stands there, frozen with the weight of what he’d just confessed, heart sinking to his shoes. All of a sudden, he feels a sharp jab to his arm, Jeongin’s fist colliding with it.

“What are you waiting for? Run!”

The rain pelts the back of Seungmin’s neck as he runs, indifferent to the fact that he’s probably soaked to the bone, slipping and sliding along the cobblestone. He can make out your figure storming ahead furiously, like you can’t get away fast enough, and he speeds up, panic in his voice.

“___, wait! Please stop.”

His voice turns hoarse from all the yelling, and he’s about to give up, turn back in defeat (and go sock Jeongin cry into his friend’s shoulder), when you stop under a streetlight, your figure slumping. 

Seungmin is by your side in moments, not caring that he takes your hands in his, blowing on them to give you warmth.

“Y-you d-don’t even h-have an umbrella, w-what were y-you thinking?” he chatters, and he watches your lips turn up in a smile. But your eyes remain downcast.

“What about you?” you whisper, and Seungmin cocks his head, looking at you in confusion.

“I left my jacket in the dining hall with Jeongin—”

“No Seungmin, I mean what about you?” your voice croaks desperately. 

Seungmin takes a deep breath. There was no use in pretending anymore.

“I think I’m in love with you and I don’t know what to do,” he chokes out.

You take his hands in yours and Seungmin feels dizzy. The cold rain no longer bothers him, warmth filling his veins from the inside out.

“You think?” you sniffle.

“I know. I know I’ve been in love with you, since the day you walked into the studio and pitched your ideas for five-star dorm meals.”

“I really like your hands,” you blurt out, and Seungmin’s eyes widen in shock. That was not the response you’d been expecting.

“They’re warm when mine are always cold, I like the way they look when they’re holding a pencil, or when you bring me a cup of coffee. I like your voice too – the way you sing along to Day6 when you think no one is listening, or your annoying little laugh–”

“It is not annoying–”

You press a finger to his lips, and Seungmin thinks he might just evaporate. 

“Not now, Min. I’m trying to say something here. What I’m trying to say is that if there’s anything this whole week has taught me, it’s how much I like you. How much I want to have those crappy problems that everyone complains about with you, how much I want to celebrate birthdays with you, and anniversaries with you, and how I think I might collapse inside if I ever saw you with someone else—”

It’s Seungmin’s turn to interrupt you now,  cold lips colliding with yours, the initial shock replaced with heat. Your hands burrow into his hair and he draws you closer, hands weaving around your waist. The startled, frantic sounds of your breathing did nothing to help the pounding of his heart, and he wonders if you can hear it too. 

In this moment, Seungmin never wants to let go, holding you steady against him even when you part, your breath fanning in the cold air. 

“I just, I, needed to be honest. No more pretending.”

“No more pretending,” he smiles against your lips, nudging his nose against yours.

The wet slap of shoes against the pavement interrupts you both, turning to see the Jeongin behind you, Seungmin’s jacket in his arms. He takes in the sight of you two wrapped around each other, a smug grin lighting up his entire face.

“Hell yeah! It worked!”

“___ and Seungmin signing off, this is Tune in For Love on The Sound FM, and we’ve loved having you this week!”

The air in the studio buzzes with a different kind of excitement – the dreamy notes of Hypnotized by The Weston Estate filling up the room.

“Before we go, we have something to share with you–” your voice wobbles, and Seungmin reaches out immediately, squeezing your hand.

“Please send your email petitions in so our show doesn’t get canceled, but we’ve been faking it this whole time. We’re not actually exes.”

You can almost hear the collective gasp across campus, the soundboard going crazy as it lights up with calls.

“We are, as of yesterday, the happiest, and newest–, couple on campus,” Seungmin beams, his pride echoing through the mic and your heart lurches at how right it feels to be his.

You hit the answer button, the lines flooding with congratulations and well-wishes to the news.

“Congrats!” Ningning’s voice echoes. “I always thought you were the cutest together.”

“You make me want to find someone of my own now,” Joshua says in the background, and the studio fills with you and Seungmin’s laughter.

When the last call goes through, Jeongin gives you both a thumbs up, shutting off the soundboard. 

You turn to Seungmin, heart racing. 

“I can’t believe we actually did this,” he says,  half-laughing.

“Me neither,” you reply, a soft smile on his lips. “But I’m really glad we did. It feels… right, you know?”

“Thanks for being part of this with us,” he echoes through the airwaves, his voice sincere. “We’re excited to see what’s next—together. And while the show may be over, we hope you’ll still tune in for love every single week — no matter the topic.”

“Next – how to cook a five star meal worthy of any restaurant using just your dorm microwave…”

a/n pt. 2: As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

[tojisth3rdwife]

JJK men as content creators

Toji: very unserious fitness vlogger/foodie

Toji was no stranger to exploitation for financial gain. Nor did he have any shame over it. The idea to start making content stemmed from people approaching him in the gym for advice after seeing his impressive physique.

He wasn't much of a talker, although his dry sense of humor became his trademark along with his abs, so the majority of Toji’s content consisted of workout and nutrition advice. None of it he recommended anyone do since he wasn't a professional, stating that if it didn't work for you, don't go blaming him for it. One of his most popular segments was when he went to different restaurants in the area for food reviews on his cheat days. When owners noticed how a position review from him brought in a lot of business, they stopped charging him meals if he ever returned. And we all know how much Toji loved that.

"Alright, listen up. You want results? It’s not about fancy machines or trendy diets. It’s about putting in the work and pushing your limits. No shortcuts. Just grit and grind. Today, we’re hitting those weights hard and showing those excuses the door. Let’s get it."

Nanami : cooking/ASMR

Upon first impressions, one would think Kento wasn't the type of person who uses social media. He had Facebook like most millennials and has an Instagram but barely uses it. He wasn't the type to share his life with the world in that way and found the concept too invasive and troublesome for him to be bothered with. “What the point of telling strangers what I'm doing? I have no interest in what anyone else does.” he’d say.

But one day after allowing one of the teachers at Jujutsu High to try one of his homemade baked creations, it was suggested that he had his cooking show. Noting that he has the wholesome ‘husband/boyfriend’ aesthetic going for him, as well as a voice that sounded like a hug from behind after a long day at work. Kento started his channel slowly walking viewers through his favorite recipes , as well as some new ones he’d been meaning to try, while speaking gently into a highly sensitive mic that added an ASMR element to every video.

He doesn't show his face, feeling the anonymity made him most comfortable to be himself, but the way his audience swooned over the fixed view of him in his button-up and apron with the sleeves rolled up his veiny forearms, or his deft hands/fingers as he used a knife or kneaded dough.

Kento earned himself a whopping 400k subscribers in less than a year.

"Welcome back, everyone. Today, we're going to create something simple yet satisfying. Just listen to the gentle sound of the flour as it sifts through my fingers... The perfect blend of precision and comfort. Let’s start our journey into baking together, one soft whisper at a time."

Geto - podcast bro , the toxic kind

We all know with the global pandemic came the need for creative streams of income. Especially via social media. With somewhat of a platform of his own, being a cult leader and all, Suguru was approached by his daughters with the idea to reach more people by starting a podcast. Skeptical at first, Geto wasn't very enthusiastic about the idea of getting in front of a camera just to talk for an hour.

But with his dashing good looks, easygoing personality, and controversial views, it was no surprise that he amassed such a fanbase overnight. His show consisted of him tackling hard subjects, discussing world news, and hot topics, reading fan mail, and offering his candor, as well as having the occasional guest that may or may not know what they got themselves into.

"Welcome back to the show, everyone. Today, we’re diving deep into the topics no one wants to touch..the uncomfortable truths and the gray areas that challenge our perceptions. Let’s be real: society loves to paint everything in black and white, but the reality is far more complex. So, buckle up as we unpack some hard-hitting ideas that might just make you rethink everything. And remember, if you can’t handle the heat, youre probably a monkey."

Gojo- vlogger, travel, fashion, aesthetic, hauls.

Being someone who comes from money, old money at that, Satoru has access to more cash than he knows what to do with. So it's no surprise that outside of work( and sometimes for work), he spends his days traveling and shopping.

Vlogging came easily for him since he enjoyed talking about himself so much anyway, and with an audience so invested in his daily life, Satoru recorded everything. Him waking up. His skin/hair routine. What he ate in a day. Going on missions. Comedic skits with some of the first years who would participate. Travel vlogs and clothing hauls. There was a little bit of something for everyone on his page.

“Whats good my faves, its ya boy Satoru..back at again with another clothing haul. Im fresh off the plane from when I was Paris for fashion week, link to that vlog in the top right hand corner, and man am I jet lagged. But I wanted to show you all what I brought back while I have the time..”

Megumi- gamer/streamer on twitch.

After a talk with Gojo about him needing to find things to do outside of trying to advance as a sorcerer, Megumi picked up video games as a hobby. He was gifted a gaming PC and a PS5 by his mentor and began playing to blow off some steam after training. When he was injured after a mission, Megumi had not much else to do. Yuji was the one who suggested he stream on Twitch after watching him beat an entire game that took most people days in one night, praising him on his skills and suggesting letting others watch him play too.

After a while, his obsessive need to be good at everything he tries turned into him becoming one of the top-watched gamers. His dry personality and snide comments made for entertaining dialogue during game play and he often would give his critique on the game once he’d beaten them. He’d even get chances to be a beta player for unreleased game demos.

“The graphics were ok. Combat mode is a little glitchy but overall it’s a decent game. If this is just the demo, I’m interested in what they’ll do for the full game release. Otherwise I gave it a 7 out of 10.”

Sukuna- reactions

This started as a joke when his nephew wanted him to react to some viral trend and while the king of curses was rarely impressed, his archaic way of expressing himself was what made people most interested in his opinions.

Sukuna began a series of reactions where he sat upon his throne, gazing at the camera with all four eyes blazing with contempt and boredom as he watched viewer recommendations. Those ‘try not to laugh’ challenges were his most viewed.

If something managed to make him smirk or even chuckle, he gave it 4 thumbs up and would congratulate the OP for their talents in entertainment. Majority of his audience was comprised of women between the ages of 25 and 40. He acts like he has no clue why.

"This is, without a doubt, the most extravagant display of foolishness I've ever witnessed in my life. Yet, I recognize that many humans find cats charming and entertaining, so I suppose this video could be seen that way. Regardless, it's utterly pathetic. On to the next video..."

[fdelopera]

115 years ago today, on 8 January 1910, Gaston Leroux published the final installment of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra in Le Gaulois newspaper. You can read the final installment on my blog here.

Leroux and his editor at Pierre Lafitte & Cie. then edited his serialized text, removing a chapter (”The Magic Envelope”) and several other large sections in the process, and republished his work as a novel three months later in April 1910.

I encourage everyone to do something to mark the occasion and celebrate the beginnings of The Phantom of the Opera!

Below the cut, I have linked all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper 115 yeas ago.

Newspaper Announcement, 22 September, 1909

On 22 September, 1909, the Parisian daily newspaper, Le Gaulois, ran the advertisement linked above, announcing the serialization of Gaston Leroux's new novel, Le Fantôme de l'Opéra.

Leroux's novel premiered on 23 September, 1909. It ran for 15 weeks, and it was segmented into 68 sections, each section covering roughly half a chapter's worth of content.

1) Avant-Propos, 23 September, 1909

This is how it all began! On Thursday, 23 September, 1909, the first section of Gaston Leroux’s Le Fantôme de l'Opéra was printed on page 3 in the feuilleton section of the Parisian daily newspaper, Le Gaulois.

This first section includes the text of the Avant-Propos (Foreword) from Leroux’s novel.

2) Chapter 1, Part 1. 24 September, 1909

Welcome to the 2nd day of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l'Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today's installment, we have Part I of Chapter 1: "Est-ce le fantôme?" ("Is It the Phantom?")

3) Chapter 1, Part 2. 25 September, 1909

Welcome to the 3rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 1: “Est-ce le fantôme?” (“Is It the Phantom?”)

4) Chapter 1, Part 3. Chapter 2, Part 1. 27 September, 1909

Welcome to the 4th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 1: “Est-ce le fantôme?” (“Is It the Phantom?”), as well as Part I of Chapter 2: "La Marguerite Nouvelle" ("The New Marguerite").

5) Chapter 2, Part 2. 28 September, 1909

Welcome to the 5th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 2: “La Marguerite Nouvelle” (“The New Marguerite”).

6) Chapter 2, Part 3. Chapter 3, Part 1. 30 September, 1909

Welcome to the 6th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 2: “La Marguerite Nouvelle” (“The New Marguerite”), as well as Part I of Chapter 3: “Où pour la première fois, MM. Debienne et Poligny donnent, en secret, aux nouveaux directeurs de l’Opéra, MM. Armand Monchardin et Firmin Richard, la véritable et mystérieuse raison de leur départ de l’Académie nationale de musique” (“Where for the First Time, MM. Debienne and Poligny Secretly Give the New Managers of the Opera, MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the True and Mysterious Reason for Their Departure from the National Academy of Music”).

7) Chapter 3, part 2. 1 October, 1909

Welcome to the 7th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 3: “Où pour la première fois, MM. Debienne et Poligny donnent, en secret, aux nouveaux directeurs de l’Opéra, MM. Armand Monchardin et Firmin Richard, la véritable et mystérieuse raison de leur départ de l’Académie nationale de musique” (“Where for the First Time, MM. Debienne and Poligny Secretly Give the New Managers of the Opera, MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the True and Mysterious Reason for Their Departure from the National Academy of Music”).

8) Chapter 3, Part 3. Chapter 4, Part 1. 2 October, 1909

Welcome to the 8th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 installments of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 3: “Où pour la première fois, MM. Debienne et Poligny donnent, en secret, aux nouveaux directeurs de l’Opéra, MM. Armand Monchardin et Firmin Richard, la véritable et mystérieuse raison de leur départ de l’Académie nationale de musique” (“Where for the First Time, MM. Debienne and Poligny Secretly Give the New Managers of the Opera, MM. Armand Moncharmin and Firmin Richard, the True and Mysterious Reason for Their Departure from the National Academy of Music”). We also have Part I of Chapter 4: "La Loge N° 5" ("Box 5").

9) Chapter 4, Part 2. 5 October, 1909

Welcome to the 9th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 4: “La Loge N° 5” (“Box 5”).

10) Chapter 4, Part 3. Chapter 5, Part 1. 6 October, 1909

Welcome to the 10th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 4: "La Loge N° 5” (“Box 5”), and Part I of Chapter 5: "Suite de « La Loge N° 5 »" ("Box 5 Continued").

11) Chapter 5, Part 2. 7 October, 1909

Welcome to the 11th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 5: “Suite de « La Loge N° 5 »” (“Box 5 Continued”).

12) Chapter 5, Part 3. Chapter 6, Part 1. 9 October, 1909

Welcome to the 12th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 5: “Suite de « La Loge N° 5 »” (“Box 5 Continued”), and Part I of Chapter 6, "Le Violon Enchanté" ("The Magic Violin").

13) Chapter 6, Part 2. 11 October, 1909

Welcome to the 13th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 6, “Le Violon Enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”).

14) Chapter 6, Part 3. 13 October, 1909

Welcome to the 14th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 6, “Le Violon Enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”).

15) Chapter 6, Part 4. 14 October, 1909

Welcome to the 15th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 6, “Le Violon Enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”).

16) Chapter 6, Part 5. Chapter 7, Part 1. 16 October, 1909

Welcome to the 16th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 6, “Le Violon enchanté” (“The Magic Violin”), and Part I of Chapter 7, "Une Visite à la loge n° 5" ("A Visit to Box 5").

17) Chapter 7, Part 2. Chapter 8, Part 1. 19 October, 1909

Welcome to the 17th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 7, “Une Visite à la loge n° 5” (“A Visit to Box 5”), and Part I of Chapter 8, "Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta" ("Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have 'Faust' Performed in a 'Cursed' House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued").

18) Chapter 8, Part 2. 21 October, 1909

Welcome to the 18th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

19) Chapter 8, Part 3. 22 October, 1909

Welcome to the 19th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

20) Chapter 8, Part 4. 24 October, 1909

Welcome to the 20th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

21) Chapter 8, Part 5. 26 October, 1909

Welcome to the 21st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 8, “Où MM. Firmin Richard et Armand Moncharmin ont l’audace de faire représenter « Faust » dans une salle « maudite » et de l’effroyable événement qui en résulta” (“Where MM. Firmin Richard and Armand Moncharmin Have the Audacity to Have ‘Faust’ Performed in a ‘Cursed’ House and the Horrifying Event Which Thereby Ensued”).

22) Chapter 9, Part 1. 27 October, 1909

Welcome to the 22nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of Chapter 9, “Le mystérieux coupé” (“The Mysterious Carriage”).

23) Chapter 9, Part 2. Chapter 10, Part 1. 28 October, 1909

Welcome to the 23rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 9, “Le mystérieux coupé” (“The Mysterious Carriage”), and Part I of Chapter 10, "Au bal masqué" ("At the Masked Ball").

24) Chapter 10, Part 2. 30 October, 1909

Welcome to the 24th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

25) Chapter 10, Part 3. 1 November, 1909

Welcome to the 25th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

26) Chapter 10, Part 4. 2 November, 1909

Welcome to the 26th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 10, “Au bal masqué” (“At the Masked Ball”).

27) Chapter 11, Part 1. 3 November, 1909

Welcome to the 27th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of Chapter 11, “L'enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”).

28) Chapter 11, Part 2. 4 November, 1909

Welcome to the 28th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 11, “L’enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”).

29) Chapter 11, Part 3. Chapter 12, Part 1. 5 November, 1909

Welcome to the 29th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 11, “L’enveloppe magique” (“The Magic Envelope”), and Part I of Chapter 12, “Il faut oublier le nom de « la voix d'homme »” (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”).

30) Chapter 12, Part 2. 7 November, 1909

Welcome to the 30th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 12, “Il faut oublier le nom de « la voix d’homme »” (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”).

31) Chapter 12, Part 3. Chapter 13, Part 1. 9 November, 1909

Welcome to the 31st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 12, “Il faut oublier le nom de « la voix d’homme »” (“You Must Forget the Name of ‘the Man’s Voice’”), and Part I of Chapter 13, “Au-dessus des trappes” (“Above the Trapdoors”).

32) Chapter 13, Part 2. 11 November, 1909

Welcome to the 32nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 13, “Au-dessus des trappes” (“Above the Trapdoors”).

33) Chapter 13, Part 3. Chapter 14, Part 1. 13 November, 1909

Welcome to the 33rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 13, “Au-dessus des trappes” (“Above the Trapdoors”), and Part I of Chapter 14, “La lyre d'Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

34) Chapter 14, Part 2. 15 November, 1909

Welcome to the 34th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

We are now at the halfway point of the Gaulois publication!

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

35) Chapter 14, Part 3. 16 November, 1909

Welcome to the 35th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

36) Chapter 14, Part 4. 18 November, 1909

Welcome to the 36th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

37) Chapter 14, Part 5. 20 November, 1909

Welcome to the 37th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

38) Chapter 14, Part 6. 22 November, 1909

Welcome to the 38th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part VI of Chapter 14, “La lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”).

39) Chapter 14, Part 7. Chapter 15, Part 1. 23 November, 1909

Welcome to the 39th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part VII of Chapter 14, “La Lyre d’Apollon” (“Apollo’s Lyre”), and Part I of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de ma��tre de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”).

40) Chapter 15, Part 2. 25 November, 1909

Welcome to the 40th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de maître de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”).

41) Chapter 15, Part 3. Chapter 16, Part 1. 27 November, 1909

Welcome to the 41st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 15, “Un Coup de maître de l’amateur de trappes” (“A Masterstroke of the Trapdoor Lover”), and Part I of Chapter 16, “Singulière attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Strange Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”).

42) Chapter 16, Part 2. 29 November, 1909

Welcome to the 42nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 16, “Singulière attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Strange Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”).

43) Chapter 17 (full chapter). Chapter 18, Part 1. 30 November, 1909

Welcome to the 43rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Chapter 17, “Christine ! Christine !” (“Christine! Christine!”), as well as Part I of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”).

44) Chapter 18, Part 2. 3 December, 1909

Welcome to the 44th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”).

45) Chapter 18, Part 3. Chapter 19, Part 1. 4 December, 1909

Welcome to the 45th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 18, “Révélations étonnantes de Mme Giry, relatives à ses relations personnelles avec le fantôme de l’Opéra” (“Mme Giry’s Astonishing Revelations, Regarding Her Personal Relations with the Phantom of the Opera”), and Part I of Chapter 19, “Suite de la curieuse attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Continuation of the Odd Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”).

46) Chapter 19, Part 2. Chapter 20, Part 1. 5 December, 1909

Welcome to the 46th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 19, “Suite de la curieuse attitude d’une épingle de nourrice” (“Continuation of the Odd Behavior Regarding a Safety Pin”), and Part I of Chapter 20, “Le Commissaire de police, le vicomte et le Persan” (The Commissary of Police, the Vicomte, and the Persian).

47) Chapter 20, Part 2. 7 December, 1909

Welcome to the 47th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 20, “Le Commissaire de police, le vicomte et le Persan” (The Commissary of Police, the Vicomte, and the Persian).

48) Chapter 20, Part 3. Chapter 21, Part 1. 9 December, 1909

Welcome to the 48th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 20, “Le Commissaire de police, le vicomte et le Persan” (The Commissary of Police, the Vicomte, and the Persian), and Part I of Chapter 21, “Le Vicomte et le Persan” (The Vicomte and the Persian).

49) Chapter 21, Part 2. Chapter 22, Part 1. 10 December, 1909

Welcome to the 49th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 21, “Le Vicomte et le Persan” (The Vicomte and the Persian), and Part I of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

50) Chapter 22, Part 2. 13 December, 1909

Welcome to the 50th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

51) Chapter 22, Part 3. 14 December, 1909

Welcome to the 51st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

52) Chapter 22, Part 4. 16 December, 1909

Welcome to the 52nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera).

53) Chapter 22, Part 5. Chapter 23, Part 1. 19 December, 1909

Welcome to the 53rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 22, “Dans les dessous de l’Opéra” (In the Underside of the Opera), and Part I of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

54) Chapter 23, Part 2. 20 December, 1909

Welcome to the 54th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

55) Chapter 23, Part 3. 21 December, 1909

Welcome to the 55th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

56) Chapter 23, Part 4. 24 December, 1909

Welcome to the 56th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part IV of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative).

57) Chapter 23, Part 5. Chapter 24, Part 1. 25 December, 1909

Welcome to the 57th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part V of Chapter 23, “Intéressantes et instructives tribulations d’un Persan dans les dessous de l’Opéra: Recit du Persan” (Interesting and Informative Tribulations of a Persian in the Underside of the Opera: The Persian’s Narrative), as well as Part I of Chapter 24, “Dans la chambre des supplices” (Inside the Torture Chamber).

58) Chapter 24, Part 2. Chapter 25, Part 1. 26 December, 1909

Welcome to the 58th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 24, “Dans la chambre des supplices” (Inside the Torture Chamber), and Part I of Chapter 25, “Les Supplices commencent” (The Torture Begins).

59) Chapter 25, Part 2. 27 December, 1909

Welcome to the 59th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 25, “Les Supplices commencent” (The Torture Begins).

60) Chapter 25, Part 3. Chapter 26, Part 1. 28 December, 1909

Welcome to the 60th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 25, “Les Supplices commencent” (The Torture Begins), and Part I of Chapter 26, “Tonneaux !… Tonneaux !… Avez-vous des tonneaux à vendre ?” (Barrels! Barrels! Have You Any Barrels to Sell?).

61) Chapter 26, Part 2. 31 December, 1909

Welcome to the 61st installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 26, “Tonneaux ! tonneaux ! avez-vous des tonneaux à vendre ?” (Barrels! Barrels! Have You Any Barrels to Sell?).

62) Chapter 26, Part 3. Chapter 27, Part 1. 1 January, 1910

Happy New Year! Welcome to the 62nd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 26, “Tonneaux ! tonneaux ! avez-vous des tonneaux à vendre ?” (Barrels! Barrels! Have You Any Barrels to Sell?), as well as Part I of Chapter 27, “Faut-il tourner le scorpion ? Faut-il tourner la sauterelle ?” (Shall You Turn the Scorpion? Or Shall You Turn the Grasshopper?).

63) Chapter 27, Part 2. 2 January, 1910

Welcome to the 63rd installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 27, “Faut-il tourner le scorpion ? Faut-il tourner la sauterelle ?” (Shall You Turn the Scorpion? Or Shall You Turn the Grasshopper?).

64) Chapter 27, Part 3. 3 January, 1910

Welcome to the 64th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part III of Chapter 27, “Faut-il tourner le scorpion ? Faut-il tourner la sauterelle ?” (Shall You Turn the Scorpion? Or Shall You Turn the Grasshopper?).

65) Chapter 28, Part 1. 5 January, 1910

Welcome to the 65th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of Chapter 28, “La Fin des amours du fantôme" (The End of the Phantom’s Love Story).

66) Chapter 28, Part 2. 6 January, 1910

Welcome to the 66th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of Chapter 28, “La Fin des amours du fantôme" (The End of the Phantom’s Love Story).

67) Epilogue, Part 1. 7 January, 1910

Welcome to the 67th installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom, where I post all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

In today’s installment, we have Part I of the Epilogue.

68) Epilogue, Part 2. 8 January, 1910

Welcome to the 68th and final installment of 15 Weeks of Phantom! Over the last 15 weeks, I have posted all 68 sections of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra, as they were first printed in Le Gaulois newspaper.

A HUGE thank you to all of you who have followed me on this literary journey through Phantom. I hope it has been as fascinating for you as it has been for me to see how Leroux and his editors at Pierre Lafitte et Cie. developed and changed his novel from the Gaulois newspaper serialization to the First Edition.

In today’s installment, we have Part II of the Epilogue, and the end of Le Fantôme de l’Opéra.

[temptress-writes]

📺 Sugar

A/N: Welcome to The Tonight Show with Harry Styles. The year is 1964, and you are his assistant. He's a bit of a shit. So this is a fun one.

C.W: sexual content: kinda rough— choking, spanking, degradation, slapping, spitting, squirting.

18+ ONLY.

***

New York City, 1964.

"Red leather, yellow leather, red leather, yellow leather."

The bright lights heated him even from behind the curtain. A warmth that coasted alongside his adrenaline. He struggled to keep his body cool underneath his designer sweater, felt his feet tapping restlessly in his leather oxfords.

This was his favourite part.

The cheers, the introduction, the attention.

You ran the lint roller over his shoulders as he sipped steaming tea from a paper cup. You made sure the collar of his plaid shirt was straight as it peeked out from his red sweater.

Another sip of steaming tea, another tongue twister.

"She sells..." You coached.

He took in a deep breath, watching you as you made sure he appeared perfect, rearranging the groomed curls on his head. Your green dress stood brightly against the black of the stage, the white cuffs of it framing your wrists as you fussed over his hair.

"She sells seashells by the seashore."

"One minute till curtain!" The stage manager yelled as he breezed by. "How're you feeling, Mr. Styles?"

"Like a million bucks, Sal!"

"That's the spirit!" Sal chuckled, running towards the side of the stage, probably chasing after an intern who wasn't doing their job properly.

"Remember, you're meeting your parents for dinner after this." You reminded, ticking off the mental to-do list that was really his. It was clogging your mind but after all, it was your job.

"I haven't forgotten." He rolled his eyes. Yes, you were his assistant, but he found you controlling at times and he had little patience for women who tried to control him. He preferred to be the one in charge.

"But you'll still find a way to be late, anyway." You stepped back with a huff. He really did make your job a living hell.

"I'm taking a refreshment in my dressing room after the show."

You scrunched up your face in disgust. Refreshment. You hated that you knew it was code for a visit from a desperate groupie. You remember when he told you how he chose which girl he liked the best. You'd been watching the audience file in and he appeared behind you, chewing gum with a confident pop of his jaw.

"Let me scope it out."

"Why?"

"Like to see who's gonna join me for a post-show soirée. See those girls?" He pointed to a group of overdressed girls, all giggling and excited for the show to start. "Bingo."

"How do you know which one to pick?"

He shot you a look, clicking his tongue. "The tits, sugar. I always pick the girl with the biggest tits."

"Ugh." You rolled your eyes. "You're disgusting."

"I'm just messin'," He tilted his head. "I'm an ass man, too."

You shuddered at the recollection.

"Yes, Mr. Styles." Your voice was laced with a seething sarcasm that he raised a brow at.

He didn't seem to conceptualise that you talked that way because that's how he talked to you. He couldn't see past his blinding, misogynistic ego.

You were purely volleying it right back at him. In hindsight, it wasn't the smartest move because you really needed this job and he had a tendency to fire staff with a snap of his jeweled fingers. He'd made the past six months hard on you and he really made your blood boil.

Who knew becoming Harry Styles' assistant would be akin to babysitting a grumpy toddler?

The Tonight Show with Harry Styles.

Hilarious with guests, a major flirt, and entertaining — even when reading out news segments.

He was well-loved by everyone. For his fun fashion statements, for his guests, his charm, his whole fantasy world on his show. Worldwide, he was adored as the most entertaining and handsome talk show host.

But you knew what happened behind the scenes.

Poised and perfect on camera, but as soon as the director called cut, you had trouble convincing yourself it wasn't a joke. People of the television world had a different sort of ego and you struggled to breathe among it all. Harry hated mingling with guests before and after the show more than he had to, he hated when the crew bothered him, he hated being approached by fans for autographs because he had a headache — or whatever excuse he was offering that day.

Don't get it twisted — he loved the attention he got from being so famous. You were surprised his head wasn't bigger. The one thing he loved most about being so popular was the fact that he could have anyone on his knees for him, be between their legs, and have them at their disposal. And he treated them like that was their only use.

The charming and cheerful Harry Styles.

Purely a falsity of a man.

The crew fled from the stage as the band started playing the introduction theme music and you swept the cup from his hand. You replaced it with two certs breath mints that he chewed on routinely.

"Wish me good luck." He demanded as you gave him a once over.

You beamed. "Break a leg."

"Thanks, sugar."

"No, like trip and fall."

His smile dropped into an unamused glare. "Oh, bite me."

The music ensued, getting louder with an abundant cheer from the live crowd, the curtain preparing to lift to reveal him. You rushed off stage, your Mary Janes clicking on the floor before nodding to Sal who gave you two thumbs up.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

Harry took a deep breath, already bathing in the adoration he garnered from simply existing.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

You rolled your eyes as he mouthed along with the words as they were spoken.

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

The curtain parted and he stepped forward, his hands waving to the crowd before clasping them together as he took a small bow. He blew kisses, thanking them for coming and welcoming them. He egged on the drummer of the band while the crowd cheered for him.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen!"

More cheers that he absolutely cherished and bathed in, letting them fuel his ego.

"We've got a great show for you tonight, we have special guests The Everly Brothers joining us!"

Your job while Harry was doing his magic spiel on stage was to check in with him during commercial breaks, smooth his hair, offer him mints, refill his water. Also to make sure everything was perfect for him when he wrapped up. He was extremely demanding, and while you were warned of that when you first took the job, you were still so surprised just how needy he was.

He liked ham and tomato sandwiches exactly fifteen minutes before he was put into his hair and makeup chair. He liked a cup of hot tea right before air time, alongside a few tongue twisters. He went through packets of Certs breath mints faster than you thought humanly possible. He also wanted a cup of black coffee waiting for him directly after he got off stage.

He didn't like to talk to anyone on his way to his dressing room unless it was Sal congratulating him and inflaming his already huge ego. Or security telling him about a waiting groupie in his dressing room. Or you, running over his schedule or helping him memorise his script. Well, he didn't like talking to you. He more or less answered in grunts or irritated comments.

As Harry settled in for his show post the joke segment, you ran around backstage. Ordering his coffee and one for yourself because you couldn't keep up with his demands without your own shot of caffeine. You were due within minutes to refresh him during the breed.

It really was an exciting job, aside from being a woman in a man's world. You were treated as such but you were lucky enough to be given the job in the first place. At first, you were nervous around Harry. It took him a second to warm up to you.

The first time you met was when he found you in his dressing room before a show, bent over the vanity as you watered his flowers. He thought you were there for a completely different reason and had quickly started to unbuckle his belt.

"Alright, let's make this quick."

You then spotted him in the mirror and turned with a gasp. "What are you-"

And before it could have got any more awkward, before Harry could even fully unbuckle his belt, Sal stormed in with a shocked laugh.

"Oh!" His amused gaze flickered between the two of you. "Harry, I see you've met your new assistant."

"I don't need an assistant, Sal. We've been through this. Why do you think I got rid of the last one?"

"Well, of course, you do! She's just here to help you perform at your best, Styles. Try not to scare this one off."

And while he'd probably never admit it to you, you actually were very helpful to have around. Once you'd stopped being so awkward and nervous and jittery around him, you found a dynamic that worked. One where he could be a condescending male and you could be just as snappy right back to him.

Past assistants had stuck to him like a bad smell and only irritated him. You did what was expected of you. Nothing more, nothing less. You kept your little purse stocked with certs breath mints, lint rollers and kept that fact that he fucked fans in his dressing rooms after and sometimes before shows quiet.

But after all, everyone was well aware. They even congratulated him on his sexual success. Nothing grossed you out more.

Aside from Harry being a mildly misogynistic, cocky, well-dressed thorn in your side, you loved your job. You met exciting guests whom you only dreamed of meeting. Stars you had posters of in your apartment, musicians whose vinyls you span on your turntable.

In your first week on the job, you met Santo and Johnny. They'd just finished a performance of Sugar Song and they flirted with you until you were a blushing mess.

Harry had watched the interaction, grumbling about professionalism and waiting for them to leave so he could torment you about it.

"Got the hots do ya, little sugar?"

"Kiss off, Styles."

That was the most colourful thing you'd ever said to him. The shock of it raised his brows and sent a singeing pang of arousal directly to his crotch.

There was a part of Harry that wanted to hate you. Because you were a woman bossing him around and because you got on his nerves. But the more rational part of him knew he could never hate you. You were too helpful and he'd be lying if he said you weren't one of the prettiest girls he'd ever seen. And he'd seen a lot of girls.

But he knew you were disgusted by his habits, how he slept with so many people. In his own sick way, he used it to his advantage, to keep you at arm's length. That and endless comments he knew would rile you up. And boy, did he rile you up. He'd finessed the art of it.

The show ran smoothly tonight, but by no means were you any less busy. You raced around with your clipboard tucked under your arm and two cups of coffee in either hand. You sipped on yours, grateful for the kick it gave. Harry was saying his goodnight to the crowd, his cup steaming in your left hand as you rushed to meet him.

"Thank you for spending the night with me, New York!"

His classic closing catchphrase. Cheeky and risky, but it was him and he got away with everything.

Thunderous applause overpowered the sound of your heels clicking as you turned a corner, beelining towards the stage exit. You were late. He'd be off stage by now, demanding things and barking orders like the diva he was.

As if you weren't going to hear an earful from him as it was, an intern bumped into you. The crash caused your two cups of coffee to spill all down the front of your dress. You barely noticed the burn.

"Seriously?" You seethed, holding your now empty cups out in exasperation.

"I-I'm so sorry, I wasn't watching-"

"You don't say."

You could hear Harry asking where you were and you groaned, absolutely vexed. You turned in the exact opposite direction of him and back to grab more coffee. You knew he'd especially need it tonight if he was meeting with his parents.

"What happened to you?" Sal guffawed and you rolled your eyes.

"If you see Harry, tell him that his coffee is coming."

"Bit hard getting it to him when you're wearing it."

"Not funny."

A few minutes later, you held a single coffee cup. Steaming, black. You wrapped both your hands around it, holding it steady and keeping far away from anyone who could bump you. Your dress had seen better days and the stain was obvious and uncomfortably wet.

You found your way back to his dressing room, where he'd no doubt holed himself up in to freshen up. You knocked, hoping he was alone and waiting for you before continuing on with his post-show... rituals.

"Come in!" You heard from the other side and you slipped inside quickly.

"So sorry, Mr. Styles, I had an accid- oh, my god!"

You took in the scene before you. Harry. With a girl on his knees in front of him. His jeweled fingers clenching a fistful of the girl's hair as she sucked him off. His brows were turned down in the middle but his eyes... his eyes were on you. And he was enjoying it. Enjoying the girl, and enjoying you watching.

"Alright, sugar?"

"I-" You didn't know what to say, and the girl didn't stop. You didn't know if that was her doing or if Harry was holding her down. You turned, and idiotically turned back around, taking the few steps towards him, and handed him his cup of coffee. You didn't meet his eyes, like a bumbling idiot.

You left the room, but not before hearing Harry take a hefty sip of his coffee and letting out a soft moan, "Oh, that's so good."

Vexed by his antics, and the fact that he made it his mission to throw you off like that, you signed out and went home. It was as vulnerable as you'd ever seen him and you felt an odd sense of jealously wash over you. Maybe you were jealous of past you, because she hadn't witnessed it. Or maybe there was a bit of jealousy there because you wanted to be the one on your knees for him.

As delightful as the thought was for a margin of a second, you felt ill knowing you'd be another Harry Styles groupie. And it would make your job more difficult which you didn't think was even possible.

But you couldn't stop thinking about it for the rest of the night. His blissful expression, the way he directed it at you as opposed to the mouth wrapped around him. He had told you to enter his dressing room so that you could see it.

The next night, you planned on fully avoiding him and pretending the whole thing never happened. Which was hard considering, you know, you were to follow him around and listen to his demands. And especially hard because you just wished he'd command you onto your knees already.

Sure, you found him extremely attractive — everyone did. You may have even had a little crush when you first met him. But then you got to know him, and his habits and his ways. Last night grossed you out just as much as it turned you on. You felt so thrown off and now you weren't sure how to act around him.

You arrived at the studio not too long before showtime, Harry's cup of tea in hand. You were a little bit late today but you figured he could survive fifteen minutes without you. He was in hair and wardrobe, getting his curls perfected and his forehead powered.

He sat in the chair with his legs spread, a pair of black dress pants and a white singlet, his inked arms on display. You focused on staying professional and met his eyes for a brief moment as you greeted him and handed him his cup of tea. No milk, and don't be shy with the honey, he'd told you when you first started.

His eyes scanned your attire, a pink dress with long sleeves but a shorter hem than usual, he noticed. He didn't hate having to look at your legs, your plump thighs, and the intrigue of what was between them ran rampant in his thoughts.

You had a soft yellow ribbon in your hair, keeping it swept away from your face in a high ponytail. He clenched his jaw, wishing it was his hand fisting your hair. He'd tie your hands up with the ribbon so you'd have to behave for him.

"Thanks. Dig pink on ya." He took a sip, his eyes full with mischief as he watched you over the rim of his cup. "Enjoy the show last night?"

You knew he was referring to you seeing him get blown by some random groupie so you ignored him, looking at your clipboard. "So Sal wants to see you in five, and we're reconfiguring some set pieces before airtime. So be on stage straight after you've seen him, okay?"

The hairstylist finished up, and you were left alone with him in the room. You were a lot stiffer tonight, more reserved than usual and he picked up on it right away. You raised a brow, wondering if he'd heard a single word you said.

He smirked. "Why did you come in last night? You know I have post-show celebrations in my dressing room."

"I was bringing you coffee! You told me to come in!" This man was exasperating. He knew that he'd asked you for coffee and told you to enter his dressing room after you'd knocked. He wanted you to see and now he was just winding you up.

He raised a brow. "Did I?"

"Five minutes." You reaffirmed. You tried to hide the way that his tone crept down your spine in slow, hot trickles.

He sat up in the chair, his hand reaching to cup the back of your lower thigh. You stopped breathing at the sudden touch and he pulled you towards him. His gaze was searing on yours, his eyes wondering and daring.

"You wanted to stay, didn't you? Watch me get my dick sucked while I watched you."

"No, I didn't." You whispered, letting him pull you forward until you were standing between his spread legs.

"No?"

"No." Even you weren't convinced by your answer.

"Hmm... you wanted to be the one on your knees for me. Is that it?"

You took a deep, shaky breath. His question fired something off in your brain. A realisation perhaps. You did want to be on your knees for him, being the reason for his pleasure, be at his command, make him feel good, make him fucking fall apart because of you.

"So pretty in this tiny fuckin' dress." He cooed. His hand came up, cupping your cheek. Your eyeshadow was a pretty soft blue and he adored it. His fingers trailed down, tracing your lower lip. "You'd look so perfect with my cock in your mouth."

You couldn't even suppress the whimper that ensued. Did you thank him? Slap him? Get on your knees and prove his point?

He didn't seem fazed by the fact that you weren't saying much. You were responding to him in other ways. Leaning right into him with your eyes lulled, your hands resting on his broad shoulders. Your chest heaving beneath that fucking pink dress. You were driving him crazy with how badly he wanted you.

The night before had been his own sick little test. Either, you'd be game, or you'd pull away from him completely. Regardless, he'd know where you stood and accept all that accompanied him. He knew how fucked up it was but you really seemed to enjoy the game.

His other hand squeezed the back of your thigh, inching higher. "What colour are your panties?"

You gasped at the question, so turned on by him and how bold he was. It used to scare you, but now being on the receiving end was a completely different ballpark.

"Blue." You breathed out.

"What shade of blue?" He pressed on. "Like your eyeshadow?"

You twisted your lips in thought. "Do you want to see?"

Harry released a shocked laugh, but his mind was fucking reeling. Did you really just ask if he wanted to see your panties?

"A peek couldn't hurt."

He gripped your hips and lifted you up onto the vanity behind you. You were shocked that he could lift you so effortlessly and smoothly. You crossed your legs, more to tease him than anything else. Your expression was sultry, and he felt lightheaded at the sight of you. Slowly, you unfolded your legs but didn't open them.

"Don't be shy, sugar. Show me and I'll make it up to you."

You let out a slow exhale, mustering up all of your courage. You were shaking, but it wasn't nerves. He had you so worked up and he had barely done anything. He'd riled you up and talked to you, and you were already fucking saturated.

Your legs parted, feet resting on either side of his thighs on the chair. Harry's eyes stayed on yours, his hands reaching to slide up your thighs, pushing the hem of your pink press up so he could get a good view of you, finally looking down.

And what a fucking view it was. Your thighs were soft, and he let his hands squeeze at them. Sky blue lace covered the area he'd been dreaming about for six months. He let out a soft groan and let his fingertip brush over the skin where your abdomen met the panties.

"Lace? Did you wear these for me?"

"I had you in mind."

"Naughty girl." He smirked, shuffling forward. His thumb brushed over your clothed clit and you let out a whimper, biting your lip to quell anything louder than might to escape. "Can I taste you? Please? Been wantin' to for months."

You nodded, your mouth dry. You'd let this man do anything to you, and hearing him tell you he'd been wanting this for months left you in a frenzy.

"Words, sugar. Let's hear 'em."

"Please," You whispered. "taste me."

"Good girl, that's it." He pulled your panties to the side, desperate to see you and taste you. You were glistening, so wet and plump for him. He sighed, running his thumb along your clit before venturing between your folds to feel how wet you were. Your thighs jolted as he slipped his thumb to collect your excitement and spread it up to your clit.

"Why are you so wet, hm?" He wondered aloud, his eyes meeting yours again.

"Because of you, Harry."

"Me?" Cocky little shit.

"Mm."

"Are you always this wet for me, sugar?"

You hesitated, not sure if you wanted to give him this. He would never forget it, probably remind you that he knew every day. Probably slip his hand up your dress just to appease his own curiosity.

"Only when you're nice to me."

"But you like me mean, don't you?"

"You're an asshole."

"Gets you wet, though."

Abruptly, as if impatient, he lowered his head and attached his mouth to your clit. The scorching heat of it was intense, and you grabbed a fistful of his freshly tamed curls to hold him to you.

His tongue ran over your entirety. From your entrance right back up to your clit, tasting you fully as his mouth closed around the sensitive bundle of nerves. You threw your head back, rolling your cunt towards his face as he softly ate you with a passion that had you shaking.

Before anything more could occur, Sal knocked on the door, demanding that Harry meet with him. He knew better than to enter any room that was hidden behind a closed door when it came to Harry. But if he'd known it was you behind that door with him, that would be another issue entirely.

You shot up, pushing him out of the way and righting your dress. You were tingling and you could still feel his tongue between your legs. His eyes were dark as he watched you from his seat, amused by your fumbling.

"Go before Sal comes back." You were flustered, your body felt electric and all he'd given you was his mouth for what — ten seconds?

He was too relaxed, and it only pissed you off further. He stood, sauntering towards you to press you against the vanity. His hand cupped your jaw, his rings kissing your skin.

"Funny that you're making demands when I'm the boss."

You breathed heavily, unsure of how to reply so you just held eye contact with him. Your lips parted as his head tilted, inching closer. His hand loosened, melting to your cheek so he could rub it with his thumb.

"Who's in charge, hm?"

"You are."

"That's right." He crooned, his lips brushing yours. "And who's gonna give you his cock later?"

The air was stripped from your lungs, the depth behind his question clear. Would you submit to him? Venture into this connection you had with him? You got on each other's nerves but fuck if there wasn't the most incredible sexual tension between you.

"You are, Harry."

He hummed, gripping your hand and bringing it down to cup his cock. He was hard, and pulsed in your hand when you gave him a squeeze. You just about crumbled when he moaned, his eyes lulling as you did it again. Harder.

"There's my good girl."

Sal knocked again, clearly impatient tonight. Harry smirked and could feel his lips curl against yours before he pulled away. He left the room with a confident strut while you were left shaking. You took a second to catch your breath, willing the arousal between your legs to simmer down before heading back out towards the stage.

You grabbed your purse and kept busy doing your job while Harry caught up with Sal. He was doted over, like always, and Sal told him how his viewings were skyrocketing. After he'd finished up his tasks on stage, he was whisked back to wardrobe so he could be styled.

Because Harry was busy chatting with tonight's guest and getting ready, all you had to do was wait for him to come to you. You peeked through the curtains at the set. The audience was being brought in and you were watching the seats fill from the side of the stage.

A piercing whistle sounded out from behind you and you twirled on the spot. He looked phenomenal. His suit was a sky blue, not too dissimilar to the shade of your panties. His shirt was a crisp white, his chain peeking through where it was unbuttoned, sat between his pecs and the light dusting of hair.

His eyes looked greener when he was dressed in blue, his lips more raspberry. He approached you and your eyes flew down to his shiny black oxfords.

"Whaddya think huh?" He spun on his heels, showing off. "Matchin'."

"Blue suits you."

"Suits you, too." Harry winked, standing close to you before nodding towards the audience. "How's it looking out there?"

Was he... trying to make casual conversation? After his face was between your thighs and all the talk that proceeded it? "Full house, like always. Did you... was that on purpose?"

"What?"

"The blue suit."

"Why else would I ask what colour your panties were, hm?"

"Because you're nosy."

"You know... every time you insult me, I get hard."

"Good thing I have plenty of them, then."

"Come on," He pressed you tight against the wall. "Gimme another one."

"Prick."

He chuckled, amused by how freely you were cursing. "That all you got?"

"You're the cockiest son a bitch I've ever met." You breathed out. His hands pressed to the wall on either side of your head, caging you in.

"Alright." He was crowding your space, the spicy-sweet vanilla of his cologne clouding your senses. He checked to see if anyone was around before clicking his tongue. "Take your panties off."

"What?" You were well aware that any crew member could walk by, and you weren't about to be caught slipping your panties down your legs.

"You heard me. Just lemme hold onto 'em until the show's over."

"Are you bent? I'm not giving you my panties. I need them and someone could walk by at any moment."

"Mellow out, no one's gonna see."

You deliberated in your head, genuinely considering it. His head tilted to the side, gauging your thoughts. This was so... exhilarating. Exciting. You were so out of it for him, and glad that you finally both agreed on something. You were both attracted to each other physically and that was about it.

Fuck it. Your hands reached beneath your dress, and Harry took a step back to give you room, keeping a lookout. You stepped out of those pretty little panties and held them out to him on your index finger. He snatched them up, eyeing how delicate they looked in his hand.

"Far out." He laughed, in shock that you actually did it.

You were a bundle of surprises tonight. He was throwing stuff at you that was pretty out there and you were throwing it right back. Sweet little sugar had a little more spice than he had anticipated.

"Cheers, sugar." He twirled them around on his finger and you slapped his shoulder.

"Don't just wave them around!" You hissed, looking around to make sure no one had seen the whole interaction.

Harry shoved them in his pants pocket and you smoothed out the bump they left, always a perfectionist. The guest of the night turned the corner and almost bumped into the two of you. You jumped apart, letting Harry chat to the guest on his own. He rarely enjoyed it and you looked back to see the subtle hints of irritation on his face. You knew he'd flash that charming smile and those adorable dimples as soon as the cameras came on.

With only a few minutes until the show was due to start, you bumbled around and made sure everything was perfect for him. You were very aware of the fact that you didn't have your panties on, and with your dress being shorter than usual, you had to be careful.

Sal breezed past you, beelining towards Harry and the guest with a huge grin. He greeted them loudly and you did your part by waiting to the side for further instruction. The guest was led to their spot for showtime, one of the stage managers with them to keep them entertained and to give their cues. Harry shook Sal's hand, hearing Sal's usual encouraging words before making his way towards you.

"Feeling okay?" You checked in, handing him a couple of Certs breath mints. You walked side by side towards center stage, and he wasn't shy about his stare on you. It felt different — the air around you. Usually filled with annoyance, was something else. Hotter, dreamier, sensual.

"Snazzy." He nodded, chucking the mints into his mouth. "Little foreplay always gets me goin'."

You huffed out a breath at his response, resisting the urge to retort something cheeky as the stagehand came to run through the show one more time. You righted his outfit, his eyes not leaving you as you made sure he looked smooth and perfect.

As the stagehand left, you grabbed your round brush from your purse and went over his curls. You began adding a little volume while he hummed and oohed and aahed to exercise and prepare his voice.

"You know New York..." You guided.

"You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Again."

He sighed, closing his eyes so he could focus. "You know New York, you need New York, you know you need unique New York."

"Lesser leather..." You hinted at another tongue twister. You ran the lint roller across the lapels of his suit jacket and over his shoulders, catching his eyes and not missing the glint in them. "...never weathered..."

"It's funny," He smirked. "you're a tongue twister master right now, but you won't be able to say your own name by the time I'm done with you later."

"Oh my-"

"Yeah, I'm gonna fuckin' ruin you."

"One minute till curtain, everyone!" Sal's voice boomed. "Look alive, look alive!"

The crowd was roaring with applause as the show began, but all you could hear was your pulse in your ears as your heart thudded in your chest. Harry, who usually thrived off of the cheers, was only focused on you. On your sweet voice asking if he wanted to see your panties, on your feisty insults.

"Filmed before a live studio audience..."

You called him a cocky son of a bitch and all he could think about was bending you over his knee and seeing how much shit you talked while his hand was marking your ass with its imprint.

Everyone fled the stage, but you were stood completely still in front of him. Frozen.

"Harry..."

His lips brushed yours again and your ears started ringing.

"...All the way from Holmes Chapel, Cheshire..."

"Look at you," He crooned. "Runnin' round with no panties with that pretty ribbon in your hair. Dirty little thing, aren't you, sugar?"

You could feel how slick you were between your thighs and your eyes fluttered as his hand ventured beneath your skirt from behind, cupping your ass cheek with a strong hand before venturing further. His fingertips found your cunt and you almost collapsed against him.

He hummed lowly, rumbling in his chest. He pulled his hand away, very aware that the curtain was close to pulling up. He held his index and middle fingers in front of you, glistening with your arousal, and ran them along your lower lip.

You didn't even hesitate to suck his fingers into your mouth, not losing eye contact. Harry's brows turned down, his mouth dropping as he drawled out a slow fuuuck. And then he kissed you. It was messy and wet and quick. His lips were so soft against your own before he sucked deftly on your tongue, tasting you and your cunt at the same time.

"...Give it up for your host, the one, the only..."

"Fuck, can we cancel the show?" He growled, holding you to him with a grip on the nape of your neck.

"N-No. I have to go."

"...Mr. Harry Styles!"

You fled from the stage, walking backwards, not wanting to take your eyes off him. His expression was one of longing, his eyes not leaving you either. The curtain lifted, igniting him in the warmth of the stage lighting and the eruption of cheers.

He turned and faced the crowd, waving and blowing kisses. His smile was dazzling, and his blue suit was celestial under the bright glow. He was wrapped in success and adoration. You could see it radiating off him as he found centre stage and bowed.

"Good evening, New York!" He waited for applaud to finish. "How are we?"

You rounded the backstage area, checking in with crew and chatting to the guest.

"Can I just say..." Harry continued, clasping his hands together. "you look ravishing tonight, New York." More praise from the audience. "It's true, you do."

You rolled your eyes at the excited yells and cheers from the crowd. You watched him in a totally new light tonight. He was on a level that no one could reach. He was born to be on stage, to entertain.

He introduced the guest and brought them onstage, talking about their upcoming music and chatting them up. During the commercial breaks you checked in with the guest, and made sure Harry's appearance was on point.

His eyes were on you the whole time, and you could see him fighting the urge to make some kind of questionable comment. His eyes veered south and stayed on where the hem of your dress brushed your thighs.

"Need anything else?" You asked him politely, aware of the audiences stare on your back.

"I won't need coffee tonight." He educated softly and you nodded.

"We're back in fifteen seconds." The cameraman alerted and you gathered your things and went to leave. The guest was busy fixing their hair with the stylist. Harry's hand on your wrist stopped you, pulling you back.

"Actually, there is one more thing." He back peddled, and you raised an expectant brow, leaning in close to hear him. "Stay right over there, okay? Wanna be able to see you."

He pointed to a spot off stage, where only guests and select members of crew like Sal or the director were allowed to stand during air time. And he wanted you there. So he could look over and see you and know you were watching.

"I- Yeah, okay."

You rushed off stage, standing exactly where he told you to. He watched you right until the advertisement break ended.

"And we're back in three... two... one..."

His eyes switched back to the camera, his expression slipping into the charm that came so naturally to him once he was live on air.

He was a star. Delightful and eccentric and unapologetic.

He exchanged more jokes with the guest, who as an up and coming musician, was gearing up for their performance. You stayed to watch the show exactly where Harry wanted you, and you were pleased that you didn't get any slack from Sal. You rarely got to actually enjoy the show like this, and in a way, it felt like Harry had done you a favour.

His eyes often flicked to you after he'd told a joke or said something cheeky. Like he was directed it at you, or maybe he was checking to see if you found him as funny as the crowd did. When you didn't laugh as hard as he thought the joke deserved, he'd try extra hard to get you to laugh at the following one.

It was odd that he was trying to seek validation from you when he had millions at his feet.

As the show wrapped up, you couldn't have applauded him louder. You were proud, you felt giddy and bubbly inside. He was born for this, there was no denying it.

And then there was the realisation of what was to come once the show had finished. You became nervous. And insanely wet. The anticipation rattled yet excited you and you weren't sure what to make of it.

You rounded towards his exit, a crowd of crew and groupies waiting for him. He came to you first, as you were closest. He shot polite smiles to everyone but his attention was on you.

"How'd I do?"

"Phenomenal."

"Did you like my jokes?"

You side-eyed a few people waiting for a shred of his attention and felt the need to rush this interaction between you along. You didn't want to raise suspicions and you also didn't want to take away any attention he could be giving to these people who were clearly waiting for him.

"My tummy laughs from hurting so much." You whispered. His grin was contagious, dimples and his bunny teeth on full display. His eyes were warm as he stared down at you.

"Really?"

"Mhm."

A throat cleared behind you and Harry looked up to shoot them a reassuring wink and then looked back at you. "Wait for me in my dressing room."

It was an order, even with the softness in his tone. You licked your lips, not missing when his eyes caught it. You backed away, slowly pulling your ribbon out of your hair. His jaw clenched as your hair fell free.

"Yes, Mr. Styles. Right away."

His dressing room felt alien to you as you slipped inside, a familiar place with such a different atmosphere now. How quickly the dynamic had changed between you was dizzying. You always knew you were attracted to him, but you never thought you'd act on it.

And you certainly never thought he'd have his mouth on your cunt minutes before a show.

How long were you meant to wait? You checked your appearance in the mirror, your cheeks flushed with excitement. Your dress was pristine, as was your makeup and you wondered how long that would last.

You were riffling through Harry's pile of books when he came in. Your spine straightened, every nerve tingling. He closed the door behind him, leaning back against it.

His gaze was one that had you clenching your thighs together. An intimidating hunger, a deep lust. His eyes were dark, void of the bright glint they usually offered. He didn't say anything and that only made the tension thicker.

And then he locked the door with a click.

He took one single step towards you and you inhaled a sharp breath at the slow, torturous pace of it. Like he was taunting and teasing you. He shoved one hand in his pocket, the other reaching up. He gripped his lower lip between his thumb and index finger, his eyes finding your feet in your Mary Janes and trailing up your legs.

He was slow with that as well as if to keep you on your toes. He had always been so rushed and spontaneous with a lot of what he did. But this.... this he'd been thinking about for a long time. He'd had months to plan this through.

Plan how he was going to play with you, make you beg for him, make you feel good.

He really enjoyed the secrecy of it. And all that would come after. He liked the idea of meeting your eyes at work, both of you exchanging knowing looks because you both knew what it took to pleasure each other.

Fuck. His sex life wasn't complicated. He fucked fans because the likelihood of seeing them ever again was slim. But you were close to home, dangerously so. He saw you all the time. And somehow that just made him want you even more.

He produced your panties from his pocket and came to stand in front of you.

"Now," He began, lowering his head to meet your eyes. "are you going to need help keeping quiet?"

He fucking knew he'd have you screaming for him. He was just being precautious, knowing that on the other side of the door, the studio was littered with crew members.

You shook your head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

"I don't think you're that good."

He rolled his tongue along the inside of his cheek, huffing out a humourless laugh before pocketing your panties again. You were so snappy and cheeky with him and he'd be lying if he said it didn't make his dick so fucking hard in his pants. You were winding him up. Trying to poke at him and provoke him. Well, it was fucking working.

"Oh, you don't think so?"

"I think that's why your ego's as big as it is. Because you can't fuck."

He did what he wanted to do earlier that day; he grabbed your hair in his fist. You gasped through a surprised smile, and he brought you close until you were pressed against him.

"What did I tell you?" His voice was low, thick with arousal. You'd never heard his voice that deep and you felt it between your legs. "Hm?"

"That you won't need coffee tonight?"

He gripped your hair harder and his cock throbbed when you smiled.

"I told you," His eyes were burning. "that I'm going to ruin you."

The way he pronounced every word was electrifying. As if he was really trying to get his message across. How was this the same man that had asked if you laughed at his jokes after his show?

You flicked your tongue against his lower lip. "Do your worst."

His kiss was far harsher this time. Still just as messy, and you figured that was just how he liked it. He wasn't shy about it. He used his teeth, nibbling on your lower lip, biting on your tongue. He used his free hand to fist your dress at the small of your back.

You were pressed tight against him and fuck, he was so hard for you. Even through his pants, you were impressed with his size. You wanted to feel more, experience him fully. You didn't have all the time in the world, locked away in his dressing room. You were both painfully aware.

He pushed you back, landing you in the chair next to the vanity. He stripped off his suit jacket and rolled up his shirt sleeves. You watched as he pushed your dress out of the way, clearly annoyed that the fabric was disrupting him from his goal. Your center was still so wet for him and he couldn't even suppress the low grown at the sight.

"Pretty little pussy," He gripped your inner thighs, holding them apart. "still so fucking drenched for me. You enjoyed watching me onstage tonight, didn't you? Hearing everyone fawn over me but you know you're the one I want."

"I want you, too. So bad, please fuck me." You whined, your hips rocking up restlessly.

"I wanna have a play first."

"Fuck, please just-"

He spat directly between your legs, coating your pussy in his spit. His eyes flickered up to the clock on the wall before he attached his mouth to you with a deep moan. He licked along your entrance and then right up to the sensitive bundle of nerves, fully tasting you again.

He dipped his tongue inside you, fucking you with it before pulling away with a pop and sucking your clit back into his mouth. He trapped it between his teeth and flicked and twirled delicious patterns against it that had your muscles clenching.

He ate you as if he enjoyed it more than you did. He targeted your clit perfectly, able to read your body and its responses so well.

He held eye contact while had his mouth on your cunt, burying his face against you like he couldn't get close enough. Your legs shook on either side of his head, and he kept them spread with his wide hands. You could feel how cold his rings were against your skin.

Your hands reached down, tangling themselves into his curls. You held him against you, his mouth so scorching on you that you felt lightheaded with the tingling heat.

He pulled away momentarily, slipping his index and middle finger in his mouth, all the way until he drew back so teeth were peeling off his rings. He grabbed your hand, taking two of your fingers one by one and replacing the rings on them. They were huge on you but you admired how his jewelry looked on you, the ones he wore while he was on air. Glistening and extravagant.

Now he'd removed them so he could feel you properly.

Deciding that you were wet enough, he ran the pads of his fingers along your entrance. They veered up, circling your clit slowly before heading south again. You cried out softly as his fingers slipped inside you. It was an exquisite sensation and you stared down at him in wonder, mouth agape as you moaned out.

He curled them up, your spine melting as they pressed against a spot inside of you that had before now never been discovered. It was a blinding pressure, tight and full and so fucking good.

Harry smirked at the apparent shock on your face before he moved his fingers, curling them against your g-spot. As he found a rhythm, he brought his mouth back to your clit.

You arched your back, gasping for air as he worked you. He pumped his fingers hard, bringing you higher and higher to an elevation you'd never known. His mouth left your clit and before you could complain at the loss, he was spitting on it once more before giving it a mild slap with his free hand.

You screamed out, not expecting the harshness to feel that enticing. You were being far too loud for him to continue this comfortably. He didn't want anyone to interrupt and moreover, he didn't want you to get in trouble. He wanted to make you come over and over without a care in the world.

The same hand that slapped you retrieved your panties from his pocket before he shoved the lace into your mouth.

If you weren't so blissed out, you may have even be shocked by it. But at that moment, it was so hot and dirty. You trusted him to know best and look after you.

His fingers pulsed against your g-spot and you felt an intensity building in your abdomen and you rolled your hips towards his face. His mouth was relentless on your clit, desperate to get you zoned out with pleasure.

Your walls clenched and ballooned around his fingers and he pulled away, his eyes on you. They were full of lust and hunger, piercing right through you.

"Eyes on me sugar, don't look away." He wanted to watch you. To stare into your eyes, to see your orgasm shatter you.

He pumped his fingers, his pace blinding. He knew exactly what he was doing, knew exactly what to do to get you there. He grunted with the exertion, the tendons in his arm flexing and bulging with how hard he worked you.

And then he smirked, almost pleased with himself. "Have you ever squirted before?"

With your mouth full of lace, you weren't able to verbally answer. You shook your head and he thought the confused frown on your face was fucking adorable.

Before you could even think about what he was asking, the most euphoric explosion of bliss rocked through you. You cried out into the lace, your entire body shaking as you came harder than you ever had before. It was fucking annihilating. You did as you were told, your eyes not leaving his. It was hard, of course. You wanted to shut your eyes and bask in the hot sensation that was taking over every nerve in your body.

But he wanted to watch you. And he wanted you to see the burst of fluid that erupted from your cunt, past his fingers. "Thaaat's it. Good fucking girl, come all over my fingers. Just like that."

You writhed in the chair, grateful for his grip on you. You didn't stop shaking, tremors of pleasure rocking you. He helped you as you came down, your chest heaving and your body trembling with the aftershocks of your orgasm. You didn't think it was possible for you to come that way, and you could feel yourself becoming addicted to him.

Harry stood, his hand running up and down your thighs, squeezing them. He removed your panties from your mouth, leaning down to kiss you deeply. You blushed as you tasted yourself on his tongue and curiously ran a hand between your legs to feel the aftermath of your orgasm.

He watched, thinking it was so hot to see your fingers venture between your folds and along your dripping thighs.

"Feel nice?" He hummed, chuckling at your curious expression.

"So nice, I've never... I didn't think I could do that."

"You got me all wet, messy girl." He smiled, kissing you again.

He stood and helped you out of your dress, peeling off your bra so he could play with your tits. He sucked and bit at your nipples, feeling the fullness of your breasts in his palm.

"You're delicious all over, sugar." He admired your fully naked body. "Can't wait to feel you properly. See what that tight little cunt feels like around my cock."

He palmed himself as he spoke, so desperate to feel you. His expression was one of lustful longing, and you could feel it resonate between your legs as if you hadn't just had an earth-shattering climax.

"Take your clothes off." You whined, going to sit up and pouting when he stopped you.

He started to unbutton his shirt, revealing the white singlet underneath. "Stay just like that. Wanna give you my cock while you're sitting in my chair."

The chair where he sat before every show. Reciting jokes in the mirror while his hair was fussed over. The vanity where he'd first seen you, bent over it watering his flowers.

He got rid of his shirt, clearly impatient. He peeled off the white singlet too and you could have drooled at the sight of him. His broad torso and shoulders, his toned tummy, his strong pecs. The ink decorating him. Fuck, you probably did drool.

He caught the leg of the chair on his foot and dragged you closer, undoing his pants at the same time. You shifted forward, your hand reaching out to boldly cup his cock. He groaned, lulling his head back on his neck. His hand came over yours and urged you to squeeze him harder.

"You're so hard." You mewled, humming as he watched you feel him. His jaw dropped as you moved your hand expertly.

"I've been hard for you all night."

He was hyper-aware of the position you were both in and that you were on limited time. The studio was due to lock up soon, left only to after-hours security and the cleaners.

You leaned closer, pulling his pants down with his help. You ran your lips along his length over his briefs, letting your tongue flick out. He could feel the heat of your mouth seep through the material and he was losing his mind over the fact that only his briefs separated your mouth from his cock.

You peered up at him through your lashes, grabbing the band of his underwear to pull them down. You'd always been so reserved and controlled but the look on your face when you finally saw his cock had him fucking spiraling. Intimidation, thirst, determination.

With his pants and briefs pooled at his ankles, he guided you to take a hold of him. You obeyed, wanting to please him just as much as he pleased you. You pumped him slowly in your hand, loving how he felt in your fist.

"Your cock is so..."

Harry laughed, cupping your cheek and staring down at you expectantly. "What?"

"Pretty." It wasn't the word you were going for, but it wasn't the wrong word, either. He had a gorgeous cock, so thick and long. It was silky and hot and pulsed in your hand. You were impressed and intrigued.

"Pretty?" His voice was so soft as he regarded you.

"Yeah."

Pretty. He could deal with pretty. His thumb trailed across your lips. "Mm, and how's it taste?"

You pulled away marginally, grabbing his free hand and urging him to grab your hair in his tight first once more. You laid out your tongue and licked the tip of his dick, glistening with precum. You hummed at his taste and took him deeper, using your hand to spread your spit down his shaft.

Harry moaned deeply, taking a solid step forward so that you took more of him past your lips.

"Swallow me."

"Make me."

He narrowed his eyes at you, watching as you opened wide and held still, waiting for him to make you take it. With his hold on your hair, he guided you to swallow his cock. You were able to take about half, your hand working what you couldn't yet fit.

But he was helping you, not pushing you too far but doing it inch by inch. Your eyes began to water and you gagged when he pushed in deep. Your other hand was pressed against his thigh to keep yourself steady.

"Good girl." He praised, his voice low. "Take my cock so fucking well, don't you?"

He couldn't wrap his head around what was happening. He'd imagined this day far too many times to count, and it was always blurred by the unpleasant dynamic you two shared. But here you were, sucking him off after he'd made you explode around his fingers.

You loved having him down your throat. You enjoyed the challenge. He was so big and when you were able to take all of him, it was a feeling of satisfaction. He held you down until you were choking and your nose was buried in the hair around the base of his cock.

He wiped a tiny bit of smudged mascara from under your eye, admiring the blue of your eyeshadow and the colour of your lips as they wrapped around his cock. Fuck, he needed to be inside you. He was desperate for it.

He slipped you back onto the chair, angling you so that you were open to him. It happened so quickly and your mind was reeling at the sudden change. He was in full control and had no issue putting you where he wanted you. And you trusted him. He was so arrogant and you wanted to see if his bite was just as harsh as his bite. Considering the wet mess you'd made, it definitely was.

"Fuck, can't wait to feel you properly." He sighed, grabbing his cock at the base and running his tip between your legs.

Your gripped his arms, absentmindedly smoothing your fingers over some of his tattoos. "Beg me."

"What?" He raised a brow, his tone perplexed.

"Beg me to let you fuck me. You're an asshole, tell me you're sorry and beg me. Then I'll let you fuck me."

You didn't miss the way his cock throbbed when you called him an asshole, the flex in his jaw as he took in your words. Beg? Apologise?

He scoffed. "That's cute. As if you don't get so fucking wet when I'm an asshole to you. Just like how hard I get when you call me shit like that with that filthy mouth of yours."

You rolled your hips up, gripping his hip to pull him closer to you. "Please, baby. I wanna hear you beg."

The very tip of him slipped inside of you and you both moaned at the sensation. You were so wet and tight and he knew he could step forward and be inside you fully. But the expectant look you were giving him stopped him.

He gripped your throat, leaning down so he could bend over you. He gritted his teeth, his eyes hard on yours. "Please let me fuck you, sugar. Get you gushing on my cock over and over, fuckin' drown in your wet little pussy."

"Are you going to be nice?"

"But it's better when I'm mean." He crooned. "I'll make you take my cock, fuck you so hard, and won't stop until you cry."

Your eyes fluttered as he inched forward a little, sliding himself in further. The head of his cock was so snug inside of you and the way he stretched you had your toes curling. You brought your legs higher, hitching them up to his sides.

"Please," You mewled.

"Tell me, sugar." He needed to hear you say it. "Tell me you want me to fuck this dreamy cunt."

"Fuck me, Harry. Please."

"Hard?"

"Hard."

His hand tightened around your throat as he rolled his hips forward. He stretched you, so fucking big that he had to take his time to push past your tightness. His gaze narrowed as he pressed in tight, his hips flush against you. As he became fully buried inside of you, your vision tunneled on him and him only. On how good he felt, how his eyes were trained on yours.

He'd thought about what you'd look like stuffed full of his cock but he could never have imagined you being this perfect. Whimpering and moaning so fucking sweet while his hand was wrapped around your throat.

"Please move." You begged, feeling so overwhelmed with him being so thick inside of you but not moving.

He slowly retracted his hips, your pussy trembling to keep him there. He slowly pushed his hips forward again, groaning lowly as you clenched around him. He started out slow as first, wanting to ease you into it, his hands holding onto your sides. But you were desperate.

"You call that hard, baby?"

He shook his head, smiling at the bite in your tone. "You sure you can handle it?"

"What did I tell you about that ego of yours-"

He growled, seeing that you were toying with him again. He didn't want you to have the upper hand. So he started fucking you. Hard and relentless and strong. You cried out at his strength, his cock pumping against your g-spot so perfectly.

"Fuck yes, take my cock. Good fucking girl."

It was electrical. You were saturated from your orgasm he'd given you, he hit so deep, pushing against your front wall. He gripped your breasts, admiring as they bounced while he fucked you. He spat on them, unashamed in his desires to be so fucking dirty with you.

"Love your tits." He grunted. "Let me fuck them one day, sugar. Wanna see them fuckin' dripping in my cum."

"Yes, take whatever you want." You gasped.

You'd let him. He was cheeky and an asshole but he fucked you far better than anyone else ever could and he was just getting started. And you could find ways to keep his mouth busy when it started spouting nonsense.

"Yeah?" He hung over you, his curls dangling down. "Will you let me have you again, hm? Let me fuck your throat, your tight cunt, fuck- make you my plaything?"

"I want to be your plaything." You sighed, his necklace swinging in your face, glistening silver.

"You do, don't you? I'll have this pussy on my tongue while I memorise my script. Carry your panties around in my pocket and give them back to you when you've earned them."

The pressure was blinding and he brought your legs up over his shoulders so he could take you even harder. The legs of the chair scraped obnoxiously against the ground as he fucked you into it. He was brutal, making you take his cock with each harsh thrust.

You cried out, sobbing his name. He was so deep and you knew you'd be feeling him for days after. He picked you up, sitting you on the vanity. You leaned back against the mirror, icy against your back. He hauled your hips towards him, wrapping your legs around his waist.

He took his cock in his hand and fisted your hair with the other, holding you still so he could slide inside of you again. You clenched around him mercilessly, and he had to flex his hips harder so he could take you properly.

The vanity jolted on its legs under the force of him. Your hand wraps around his neck, trying to stabilise yourself against the onslaught of his thrusts.

"Call me an asshole again."

"Harry-" You jolted underneath him. "Fuck, you're an asshole."

"Yeah? Wanna hit me?"

"W-What?"

"Fucking do it. Slap me like I know you've been wanting to for the past six months."

Your hands clutched at his curls. Hitting him was the last thing on your mind right now while he was inside you. Until he'd brought it up, that is. You'd wanted to slap him on a daily basis and you wondered if he'd been reading your mind.

Mustering up courage enough to do so, you raised your hand and slapped his cheek. Not as hard as you could have, but the groan he emitted told you that you weren't gentle, either.

"So good." He grinned, his cheek reddening from your hand. You gripped his jaw harshly, licking your handprint before kissing him.

Your kisses moved to his neck and he tilted his head to give you more access to the skin. He flicked his eyes to his reflection in the mirror, finding his lustful expression, his cheek red, His eyes were alight with danger and arousal, driving his hips into you as he stared at himself. You moaned loudly as he pounded into you, unrelenting. Wanting you so out of it so that you could never look at him the same way again.

He imagined you looking at him during rehearsals, looking down at your Mary Janes with flushed cheeks. Your soft cadence as you asked him when he would fuck you next. Your surprised gasp when he'd pull you into a supply closet to fuck you hard and quick before anyone noticed your absence.

Just as you grew accustomed to the position, he flipped you, brushes and hair products flying off the top as you found balance on it. Your eyes met his in the mirror and they blazed through yours as he pushed himself into your warmth again.

"Fuck," He hissed, throwing his head back as you gripped him tightly. He held onto your shoulder and fucked you, near on slamming you into the furniture. His hand crept up to cup your throat, the other doing the same as he found a rhythm.

"Right there, don't stop." You gasped.

"Gonna think of this every time I'm in this room." He grunted. "Sit in that chair before a show and think about your perfect cunt around me. How you smile when I wrap my hands around your throat, how much you love having my cock to choke on."

"I want you to fuck me on this vanity every day, Harry."

"Every day, Sugar." He was breathless. "So much I wanna do to you. Play with you, make your pussy cream for me. Fuck, how did we go so long without this?"

He started using his height to his advantage, screwing down into you. You struggled to grasp clarity, your senses clouding as pleasure took over. His hands tightened around your throat and he took you harder when a ghost of a smile touched your lips.

He slipped two of his fingers in your mouth, hooking them into your cheek and pulling. He hissed at how fucking submissive you were and how you were willing to be just as dirty as him.

Letting go of your neck entirely, one hand moved to your hip and the other to your hair. He pulled you up, forcing you to look into the mirror.

"I'm an asshole but I fuck you good, don't I?"

You wanted to slap the smirk off his face. He could sense your annoyance at how cocky he was. He took you harder and you eyed him in the reflection, not wanting to give him an answer. And that didn't work for him.

He gripped your hair tight, pulling you back until his lips met your ear.

"Don't I?" He spat.

"Yes,"

He spanked your ass. Hard. Twice. "Yes, what?"

"Yes, you fuck me good."

Pleased, Harry reached in front of you, getting you to wet his fingers with your tongue before rubbing fast circles on your clit. Your legs turned to jelly, your body melting against him as he took you hard and played with your clit.

You felt the rush of pleasure wrap around you and grow in every nerve ending. He watched you in the mirror, intent on seeing you come again. He held you up while you writhed in his arms, his hips unyielding as he split you in half with his cock.

Your hands flew out, pushing various things off the vanity top as your orgasm barrelled towards you. Harry gritted his teeth, bending his knees to follow you as you moved so he could keep fucking you.

"You gonna come? Hm? Dirty fucking girl. Running around the studio with no panties on. This cunt was so wet for me from the start, wasn't it? Tiny dress, bossy little heels, and that fucking clipboard."

This climax was more intense than the first, but no less wet. You exploded around his cock, crying out his name before his hand came over your mouth to keep you quiet.

"Shhh. Good girl. Keep coming on my cock, don't stop, don't stop." He was feral at how good you felt around him, rubbing your clit until you were trembling at the overstimulation. His hips slowed, faltering. He was losing composure the tighter your pussy clenched around him.

He picked you up, not wasting any time in settling back on the small couch in the room. He laid flat on his back, while you straddled his hips. Your hands ran over his chest, nails digging into the skin as he gripped your ass and moved your hips.

His cock sat snuggly between your folds and you shamelessly rolled yourself along his length. You felt empty without him inside you and you lifted up, grabbing his length with a shaking hand, and slid him back into your warmth.

You both moaned out softly, his cock throbbing inside you. He could feel how close he was, as could you. Your hot and wet and dreamy cunt wasn't helping him stave it off. His vision was trained on you sitting on top of him like a fucking angel. Your tits, red from his teeth, your full hips, and your blissed-out expression.

He rolled his hips up softly, encouraging you to move. "Ride me, sugar."

You found a rhythm that had you shaking, so sensitive from your orgasms His cock pressed deliciously tight against your g-spot with every roll forward. With your hands flat on his chest, you started to bounce on him. You were so wet and the sound of it was making him crumble. The wet slaps and the way your pussy was drenching him.

His gaze met yours and he just about came. Your eyes lulled, cheeks flushed and your mouth agape as you fucked him. The most beautiful sight he'd ever seen. He grabbed your tits, playing and pulling your nipples with deft fingers. He strained his neck, moaning as you picked up your pace.

You wanted him to finish. To feel the toe-curling euphoria he'd given you. The one given when a connection like the one you had was this electric.

"Ooh, shit. Just like that." He praised, squeezing your hips so hard you knew they'd bruise.

"Yeah? You love watching me bounce on your cock, don't you?"

You'd thrown his own tactic right back in his face. The sweet voice with the daring question. Of course, he loved it. He was addicted.

"Fuck yes."

Your hand trailed up, lightly wrapping around his throat. He could feel the rings he'd given you to wear against his skin and he snarled, holding your hips and screwing up into you, meeting your thrusts. Having you fuck him with your hand around his throat had him fucking spiraling into another dimension.

"You're close," You mewled, his cock throbbing hard inside you. "I can feel it."

"Yeah? Go on, make me cum. I'm gonna cum so fucking hard for you, sugar. Gonna fill you right up, fucking take it. Take all my cum- fuck."

He let you take him while his orgasm hit. It was white-hot intense, his grip on you not lessening as he moaned out your name. He pumped you full of his cum, the thick white ropes painting your walls. His brow turned down in the middle, his lips parted a little and you could see the whites of his teeth. The thick cords in his neck protruded under your hand.

He was stunning and animalistic and brazen, even in a time when one is most vulnerable.

The muscles and tendons in his arms flexed as he held you down on top of him, humming out lowly as the flames of his orgasm dimmed into embers.

And while neither of you was sure how it would feel post the explosion, you'd expected at the very least that it would be awkward. You didn't have the fondest attachment towards each other but fuck if you weren't addicted to each other's bodies now.

He sighed, reeling in his climax. His hands crawled up your sides, encasing you and encouraging you to come down to him. He hugged you, sighing in your neck before kissing the skin. You could hear a commotion in the hallway of the crew leaving and it suddenly sunk in that you'd just fucked your boss.

And neither of you could wait to do it again.

"Should we get out of here?" He asked after a few minutes.

"We?"

"Mm. Head back to mine if you want. Got the new Sam Cooke vinyl we can jam out to."

You grinned, trailing your finger along his lips. "Can we fuck again?"

His expression mirrored yours. "We are definitely fucking again. Don't have to be as quiet at mine, wanna hear how loud you get."

You rolled your hips, feeling his cock softening and his release beginning to trickle out of you. He hummed, squeezing you as if to warn you.

"Behave, sugar."

"But that's no fun."

He couldn't disagree with that. He checked the clock and knew there was only a slim window of time for you both to leave the studio without raising any brows.

"Come on." He slapped your ass. "Let's clean up and cut out."

You slipped into the bathroom, your legs shaky from how hard he'd taken you. You cleaned up, as he'd told you to. Your reflection in the mirror was a sight for sore eyes and you tried your best to look presentable and not freshly fucked.

As you entered the dressing room again and gathered your things. Harry had dressed in his more casual clothes, a pair of mint dress pants and a t-shirt, throwing his fur coat over his shoulders. He noticed the way you slipped on your dress and smoothed out your hair, touching up your lipstick. He approached you, wrapping his arms around you as you stood in front of the vanity.

"You know I'm just gonna get you all messy again, don't you?"

"I'm counting on it."

He smirked, kissing your neck and fisting the hem of that tiny dress. You pulled away, eyeing the time. You bent over, going to pick up your panties and frowning when he snatched them up before you could.

"Hey, I need those."

"What'd I say, hm? You'll get them back when you earn them." He slipped the blue lace in his pants pocket, straightening his fur coat and holding out his hand.

"Jerk." You walked towards him, nudging his hand away and leaving the dressing room. A showcase that the feisty dynamic between you was here to stay. The lights were off in the studio now, aside from a few dim ones high up on the walls. He scoffed, racing after you. He lagged behind a few steps, wanting to watch your legs as you walked. You turned, throwing him a dubious look and he smiled innocently as he was caught checking you out. "What are you-"

A gleam of a security guard's flashlight lit up the wall next to you. Harry swore, pulling you towards the exit before you were spotted. You wouldn't get in trouble per se, but being sneaky was so much more exciting than sticking around.

"Shit- let's haul ass, sugar. Wanna play with you all night."

The warmth and adoration he felt on stage, under those lights with every pair of eyes set on him. It was a dimmed sensation compared to how he felt with you. His sugar. Saccharine yet equally as fervent, gooey and thrilling and sticking to him as if magnetised to his cells. 

[purplepickles]

“Under The Covers”

Pairings: Central cee x black fem reader

Genre: fluff

Authors Note: it’s my first time writing on tumblr so bare with me I also haven’t haven’t written anything in like years I used to a Wattpad author in like 2017-2019😭 so imagine what I used to be writing. It’s not my best peice of work but it’s progress kinda messy icl in terms of storyline but it’s something anyways I hope everyone enjoys it 💗

You had just signed a contract with vogue for a new segment they were trying out for they’re YouTube channel called “Under the Covers”. It was in a podcast style in a bedroom setting hence the name and basically talking about the latest fashion trends tips or anything black girl related.

You were so grateful for this opportunity never in your life would you have imagine a little black girl from London was able to sign a massive deal with vogue. The topic of todays video was maintenance. How you maintain standards for yourself if that means relationship, mental or physical health. So instead of it being in their studio you wanted your video being a bit more homely so why not in your home. The producers had set everything up in your room making sure everything was ready for filming but this video was going to have a little extra twist. You were going to have your very first guest and they how they managed to maintain their life and overall humbleness with the fame he had gained over the years.

You kept your relationship on the down low on the respect of each other careers and not wanting to surround your relationship over it. You were actually calm with that but he wasn’t liking seeing people he fucked with in your dms with heart eyes.

Little did Yn know he was going to announce it in their video together.

“Okay I’m going to count down from 5 and we’ll start filming” said the producer

5

4

3

2

1

“Hi Vogue it’s me Yn/ln and welcome to our new segment called Under the covers where uncover beauty secrets fashion and every black girl related. But today’s video things are little different we’re in my actual bedroom and I have a special guest with us he’s one of my favourites rappers right now a current world wide sensation Central Cee”

“I didn’t know I was your favourite artist”

“Yes you did you’re also my most listened to artist on Spotify we’ve defo talked about this”

“Mhmmm”

You rolled your eyes and continued with the video

“Anyways let’s get straight into todays topic: maintenance. How to do maintain eye yourself to keep your life somewhat stable”

“I guess keeping my mum,my brothers, my fans and my girl happy innit. If they’re happy I’m happy” said central cee never straying away from eye contact from the love of his life

“And what you say is the hardest one to keep happy and why” Yn was very curious about this who knew where this could go

“My girl defo she’s says I’m annoying I think she hates me”

The way your head slowly snapped

“Did you not say at Amelia Dinner Date you like girls you hate you”

“Yh I did I turns me on but she’s just something Yk I’m just infatuated by her but maybe I’m a bit delusional when it comes to her yk idk if that’s a good thing or bad thing. Kinda new to this love thing and not messing up yk I don’t wanna get it wrong again I really like her”

That was probably the most beautiful thing he’s said in a while she didn’t know he felt like this she sometimes she can be a bit rude and her sarcasm can be taken the wrong way but she thought he knew between the lines that she didn’t hate him she lived more than anything.

“I think you should talk to her about your feeling more Yk. Don’t be shy on opening up more Yk. When you feel ready ask her what she thinks it’s possibly lacking” she smiled at him with reassurance hoping that he could through her eyes that’s it okay and she was listening

“Yh your right imma tell her right now!”

Yn chocked on her drink. He could not be serious. She should’ve known this boy was up to something

“As in right now!? I’m sure she’s busy” you said trying to get to him to change his mind

“Nah she’s not im calling her rn”

For someone who didn’t like interviews this but sure had a lot to say

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

Your phone was on the other side of the room Ringing none stop.

Everyone was looking at you. You knew the producers were loving this but you were not this was too much.

Ring

Ring

Ring

Ring

“Yn are you gonna pick up you phone”

you usually loved his smile but this was just devious.

“Do I have to” you were just dreading this

Everyone shouted yes. You rolled out bed and a grabbed the phone

“Hi baby”

“Hi cench, now can we get back to the video please”

“Yes Cench we can. You wanna cuddle too?”

//

The video was going well there was laughter within the whole room. You asked him the question that you were assigned to ask him everything was going great. You loved being under your lovers arms. Maybe letting people in wasn’t so bad.

“Thank you vogue for this absolutely-

A knock on the door you both looked at door and someone opened to little boy running in crying and jumping to Oakley’s arm. How many surprises could one video take you said to yourself in your head.

“What’s up little man” Oakley now went into full father mode his whole rapper persona was switched and all he cared about was understanding why his little boy was upset

“Had a bad dream” said the little one

“How about we say goodbye to vogue and make some hot chocolate” you said while trying to tickle him

“Right I think me and vogue has had enough surprises don’t forget to like subscribe and hit that notification and stay tuned for next weeks video about Motherhood and Careers with a icon mother and billionaire. Bye guys”

[soleilpinto]

Cruising in Papaya: Sparks at the Starting Line ˚‧｡⋆🍁

“Life’s Better on Saturn ” ˙✧˖° ༘ ⋆｡˚ (Saturn, SZA)

Synopsis: Y/N Laurant, a glamorous socialite, meets Lando Norris during a race weekend, sparks fly between the two, but as their feelings deepen, they struggle to balance their secret relationship with their public lives, all while navigating the pressure of the fast-paced F1 scene.

Genre: (Some) Angst, Fluff, Romance

AU: Social Media and Written!au

Pairing: Lando x Afab!Socialite!Reader

Warnings: None

Notes: Welcome to the start of my brand new Lando smau that I can’t wait to work on! The Franco one got really good feedback so I thought why not work on this as well? I hope you guys enjoy reading! As always, don’t forget to like + reblog as a form of support to me and other writers.

Cruising in Papaya Masterlist. (Prev./Next.)

liked by gracieabrams, evejobs and others

laurant.yn upper east sider goes downtown

littlefoxhermes gorgeous girl x

— laurant.yn says you omg

ivygetty 💋

@gridglamore y/n laurant is all smiles in the paddock today. if she’s the new face of f1 weekends, i’m here for it

@formula1glam why does y/n laurant showing up to an f1 race feel like the start of a scandal waiting to happen? 😂

@racingteatime the way y/n laurant blends into the paddock like she’s been there forever… is she about to become an f1 staple or what?

The Miami sun glints off the mirrored glass of the paddock buildings as you step out of the car, your heels clicking softly on the pavement.

Dressed in a breezy white linen dress with delicate gold accents, you feel the Florida heat wrap around you.

A light breeze tousles your hair as you adjust your oversized sunglasses, scanning the bustling paddock.

It’s not your usual scene, but you’re here on assignment—filming content for Richard Mille, one of the sport's luxury sponsors.

As you make your way to the designated filming area, the hum of engines fills the air, a sound both foreign and thrilling.

You don’t know much about Formula 1—just enough to recognize the intensity around you. But you’re not here for the cars; you’re here to do your job with the same grace and precision expected of you in any setting.

Inside the hospitality suite, a member of the Richard Mille team walks you through the schedule.

Your first task is a video shoot showcasing their latest timepiece, shot against the vibrant energy of the Miami paddock.

“We’ll head to the pit lane for the second segment,” they explain, and you nod with a polite smile, even as you internally wonder what, exactly, a pit lane is.

When you’re introduced to a McLaren staff member who’ll escort you around the paddock, you greet them warmly, extending a hand.

“Thank you so much for helping me today,” you say, your tone sincere.

They seem momentarily taken aback by your elegance but quickly recover, leading you toward the garage.

The crew captures footage of you walking gracefully through the paddock, pausing to greet staff and smile for the camera. A mechanic hands you a small, futuristic-looking object.

“This is the steering wheel,” he says with a grin.

“Oh, wow,” you reply, carefully holding it.

“I had no idea they were so compact. It’s incredible how much goes into this.”

Your genuine interest catches him off guard, and he starts explaining the intricacies of the wheel while the cameras roll. You listen intently, nodding at the right moments, grateful for the impromptu lesson.

Later, you’re seated elegantly on the pit wall, the Miami skyline shimmering in the background. The cars roar past, and you can’t help but jump slightly at the noise.

“I’m not sure I’ll ever get used to that,” you admit to the assistant beside you, flashing an apologetic smile.

As you step into the McLaren hospitality suite, the last of the day’s filming wraps up. The sun is starting to set, casting a warm glow over the paddock.

Your team moves quickly, gathering equipment and talking through the final shots of the day. You’re grateful for the calm moments now, as the noise and energy of the paddock begin to settle.

Just as you’re about to sit down with a refreshing drink, the McLaren social media team approaches.

“We’d love to get a few more candid moments with the drivers,” one of the team members says.

“Lando and Oscar are available for some content, and we thought we could get a group shot with you—would you be open to that?” You nod graciously.

“Of course, I’d love to,” you say, your smile effortless.

The social media manager gives you a quick rundown of the plans, and soon enough, Lando and Oscar approach, both wearing their team kits, looking sharp but casual in a way only drivers can manage.

Oscar, ever the charming one, greets you first.

“It’s nice to finally meet you, Y/N. I’ve seen you around the paddock, but we haven’t really had a chance to talk.” He extends his hand, and you shake it, giving him a warm smile.

“I’ve been so caught up with the filming, but it’s lovely to meet you as well, Oscar,” you reply, your voice calm and kind, a steady presence amid the chaotic energy of the paddock.

Lando arrives moments later, his usual smile wide but carrying a certain twinkle in his eyes. He greets you with a casual wave, but his gaze lingers for just a moment longer than usual.

You catch his eye and offer a friendly smile, completely unaware of the subtle tension building in the air.

“So, are we ready to film some magic?” Oscar says, trying to lighten the mood, his grin contagious.

You agree, letting the social media team direct you into position, arranging you, Lando, and Oscar for the group shots.

The team starts rolling, and as the cameras flash, Lando notices the way you stand, the ease with which you interact with everyone around you.

The way you talk, with that grace, without a hint of pretension. It’s nothing like what he’s used to, and yet, there’s something magnetic about you.

He can’t quite place it, but something in the way you laugh softly at Oscar’s jokes has him drawn in.

After the photos are done, the social media manager suggests a candid video of all three of you chatting.

You start discussing the race, asking them about their preparations, but Lando can’t focus on the questions. He’s too intrigued by how poised and composed you are, even in this chaotic environment.

Your voice is calm and thoughtful, and the way you listen to him intently makes him feel like the only person in the room.

“You know, it’s refreshing talking to someone who’s not trying to get the inside scoop or, you know, make a headline,” Lando says with a half-smile.

“You’re just... easy to talk to.”

You smile at the compliment, your eyes meeting his, and you simply respond, “I think it’s important to just enjoy the moment, don’t you?”

The sincerity in your voice hits him in a way he didn’t expect, and for a second, he forgets that he’s still wearing his bright orange team kit, surrounded by cameras and flashing lights.

There’s just you—graceful and effortlessly charming—and Lando can’t help but feel a shift in his chest.

Oscar, noticing the sudden tension between you two, steps in with a lighthearted comment to break the silence.

“Lando, I didn’t know you were such a deep thinker,” he teases.

You both laugh, and the atmosphere lightens again, but Lando can’t shake the pull he feels toward you.

As the social media team wraps up, you thank them for the experience, your tone polite but warm.

“It was fun working with you both,” you say, your gaze moving between Oscar and Lando, but it lingers on Lando just a moment longer.

Lando watches you walk away, your posture elegant even as you turn toward your team.

There’s something about you—something beyond the surface level—that keeps pulling him in, and he finds himself wondering just how much more there is to you than what meets the eye.

“Are you okay, mate?” Oscar asks, noticing the way Lando’s gaze follows you.

Lando blinks and clears his throat, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, yeah... just thinking about what she said. She’s got a good vibe.”

Oscar raises an eyebrow but doesn’t push it.

“Sure, mate. Whatever you say.”

But Lando’s thoughts are elsewhere, and the idea of seeing you again keeps running through his mind. He knows it’s only a matter of time before you cross paths again.

You set your phone down, a soft smile tugging at your lips.

This was your first glimpse into the fast-paced world of motorsport, and you couldn’t say you minded—not when the Lando Norris was already charming you in ways one could only dream about.

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lando WWE FUCKIJG DID IT. P1 🏆

oscarpiastri well done man 👏 👏 👏

georgerussell63 Congrats mate!!

The crowd erupts into cheers as Lando crosses the finish line, taking the checkered flag and claiming victory at the Miami Grand Prix.

You find yourself clapping along with everyone else in the garage, swept up in the electric energy of the moment.

The roar of the fans, the team celebrating in the pit lane, and the sight of Lando standing atop his car with his arms raised in triumph—it’s all so overwhelming and surreal.

You’re not entirely sure why you feel so proud. You barely know him.

But as you watch him soak in the cheers, helmet in hand and grin wide enough to light up the entire paddock, you can’t help but feel a tug of admiration.

After the podium ceremony and the champagne celebrations, you find yourself in the McLaren hospitality suite, where the post-race buzz is in full swing.

Lando enters a few minutes later, his race suit unzipped to his waist, hair still damp from the champagne.

He’s surrounded by team members congratulating him, and you hesitate for a moment before stepping forward.

“Lando!” you call out, your voice cutting through the hum of conversation. He turns toward you, his eyes lighting up when he sees you.

“Y/N,” he says, making his way over, his smile as bright as ever. “Did you enjoy the race?”

You nod, a genuine smile spreading across your face.

“It was incredible. Congratulations! That was an amazing drive—you really earned it.”

“Thanks,” he replies, his tone warm but casual. “First time at an F1 race, and you get to see me win. Not bad, huh?”

You laugh softly, shaking your head.

“Not bad at all. You set the bar pretty high, though—I don’t know if any other race will compare now.”

His grin widens, but there’s a flicker of something softer in his expression, something that lingers as he looks at you.

“I’m glad you were here to see it,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost as if the chaos around you has faded into the background.

The moment stretches just long enough for you both to notice it. Your smile falters slightly, not from discomfort, but from the realization that this feels... different.

You were here for work, for a brand, for a world you didn’t belong to, but somehow, this feels like more.

“Well,” you say, breaking the silence with a soft laugh, “I should let you get back to celebrating. I just wanted to say congratulations.”

“Wait,” Lando says quickly, as if he doesn’t want the moment to end. He hesitates for a second before adding, “Thank you. Really. It means a lot.”

You meet his gaze, and for a fleeting moment, it feels like there’s an unspoken understanding between you.

Maybe this isn’t just a fleeting encounter. Maybe this is the start of something you didn’t see coming.

You smile one last time before stepping away, your heart a little lighter as you leave the suite. Behind you, Lando watches you go, his mind racing faster than it did on the track.

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laurant.yn heart in miami x

lettiemng she’s glowing!

— laurant.yn love you!

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alexandrasaintmleux 😍😍

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