#well whatever. i also need to learn to draw necks and shoulders at the right angles. esp thicker ones

[skunkes]

i need to relearn to draw double chins like yesterday

[insane-control-room]

tied

Joey has no choice.

Henry wants him to wear a bow. Joey does not want to.

Maybe it's not serious, but an incident with Sammy makes Joey reconsider.

ink demonth - bow

Swap AU Rated: T Warnings: violence, emotional abuse, overwork, suicidal ideation, depression AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/58578145 Length: 2000

Joey’s hands shook ever so slightly as he drew. Whether it was from the slight pain in his bones, to the touch of fear in his heart, or the seething sigh of anger in his lungs. 

He had to draw. 

Funny, how things shift. One day, he is the face (or at least, his mask is) of a relatively successful animation studio, the next, he is nearly murdered by his own workers- until rescued by his co-founder and then reduced to a mere animator in his ‘saving’. 

‘It would be a good thing, Joey’, Henry told him, ‘you’ll get to keep working on the toons, and the employees won’t hate you. I’ve got the helm’. 

Joey had no choice but to give the studio over to his partner. Not if he wanted to stay. So there he was, animating away with a pinching pain in his wrist and his eyes hurting (he could not tell if it was from wanting to cry, or from being awake for too long). 

Then later learning that it was Henry’s coup to begin with admittances from Bertrum, grim confirmation from Shawn. His grip tightened on the pen, dipping it into the ink with deliberate motions so as to reduce the forcefulness behind his actions. He breathed, trying to ignore the memories of the past swarming at his thoughts. 

His tie felt too tight on his neck. A noose. 

He shuddered as he remembered a few weeks prior, when Henry was more overbearing than usual, when his already frail mental health had snapped for some time. Joey was too tall for it to be effective, but the act of sitting on a bar stool with a tight rope around his throat….

It was so tranquil that it frightened him. The languid peace that wafted over him made him slowly remove the coil from under his jaw, his hands eerily steady as he drew it away. The fact that he was so accepting of such a dour end saddened him. Even on the worst days as the studio head, Joey would have abhorred such an action; and the fact that he had contemplated it with such calmness now unnerved him. 

What made him keep going was Linda, Henry’s daughter. The girl needed someone in her life, as her father had become quite preoccupied with the studio. Henry would say that he had been occupied with the work prior to taking over, but Joey was well aware that was not the case. As well as should not be the case now, as along with his tripled animation duties, Joey retained most of his old work as well. Henry only put his name and signature on it. Henry had also left Linda to Joey’s care most nights.

Johan adjusted his tie, feeling himself growing hot with discomfort. A sad anger- he could care less about the studio, it was Henry’s treatment that upset him so badly. Of his daughter, of the employees (what with the layoffs to give others “raises”), of the toons- hell, ignore how Henry treated Joey himself! 

Joey stiffened as he felt a hand on his shoulder, landing firmly, and yet, causing a shiver to run down his spine. 

“Hello, doll,” Henry said, his tone amiable and low. Joey mustered a smile in greeting- hoping that this was one of his (former) business partner’s ‘nice’ days. “How goes the animating?” 

“I think I am m-making progress,” Joey replied, eyes dropping to the papers. His hands fiddled with the pen in his grip. “I’m on frame, um, s-six thousand s-seven hundred thirty two.”

“Good,” Henry purred. “Only around five hundred to go. That should be a week.”

Joey clenched his jaw, turning back to the papers. A hundred frames a day. Plus all the paperwork, too. As well as whatever else Joey’s brain was too overloaded to think about. 

“Right,” he replied, quietly. Then, he inhaled softly to garner some courage. “Henry, c-can we- I mean, can you, please hire back one of the junior animators? F-for….”

He swallowed harshly as he took in the smile on his friend’s face. Chiding in composition; steely cold in his gaze.

Joey finished his words in the slightest mumble, “For midframes or the such….”

To Joey’s surprise, Henry gave a contemplative hum. 

“I’ll think about it.” Henry said, baffling Joey even more. “I’ll give you something to think about in the meantime, though.” 

Ah. Here comes the catch. Joey forced a smile- it was almost certainly crooked on his face. 

“What is it, Henry?” he asked, trying to keep from sounding too nervous. “I really can’t take w-work home any more than I already do.”

“No, no, it’s nothing to do with work,” Henry laughed lowly, shaking his head. His curls followed the motion in a way that Joey may have described as charming in the past, but now made his stomach tighten with apprehension. Henry’s finger stroked down Joey’s tie. “Why don’t you wear a bow tie, Jo? Match your little devil darling a bit more.” 

Johan shifted in his seat, slightly uncomfortable. 

“I like my tie,” he replied quietly, now fiddling with it. Henry did not seem impressed with that answer, but to Joey’s relief, did not push on the topic. He touched over Johan’s tie for another moment, a single, gentle stroke, and then shrugged. Joey was about to turn back to his work when Henry remarked; “Don’t forget, dinner is at six.”

“I won’t forget,” Joey murmured. Henry leaned closer, a slight, steely smirk on his lips. Joey shifted backwards, trying to get some breathing room. “I w-won’t.”

“Cigarettes are not adequate dinner, Johan.”

Johan felt his throat constrict, resisting the urge to swallow. So Henry had found the pack he had bought and kept in secret. 

Henry leaned back away, fingers stroking down Johan’s chest as he did. Joey did his best not to shiver. With the swagger of a wholly confident and fulfilled man, Henry sauntered out of the nearly empty art department, then paused at the doorway out. 

“We could use some helping hands in here again,” he mused, making Joey’s heart lighten a touch. “Nicholson and Lambert- they were good. I’ll get in contact with them.”

“Thank you,” Joey said, but he spoke a moment too soon, as Henry raised a finger with a wolfish grin. Joey felt his heart start to sink again. “A condition?”

“Start wearing a bow tie,” Henry replied, winking. Joey could not tell if he was serious or not. “See you at dinner, honeybee.” 

Johan felt the discomfort on his neck again. He lifted his small cup of tea, hands trembling as he sipped from it, hoping that it would reduce the pain residing terribly in his throat. Keep animating, Joey. Just keep animating. 

The phone to the animation “department” rang. Joey sighed, pushing himself up and making his way to the ringing device. He picked it up, and did not announce himself- as everyone knew that it was just Joey there. It was a musician, sounding vaguely apologetic. They let him know that Sammy was calling him down to the music department. Joey nodded, and then realized that a nod cannot be seen through the phone, and said that he would be there in a moment. 

Picking up his cane, he began the shambling decent to the music hall. Most of the workers generally avoided him, either from dislike, embarrassment, or uncertainty. He got a few smiles and waves, though, and it made him feel just that bit better. 

Eventually, he made it to Sammy’s office. He knocked timidly, and Sammy grumbled for Joey to enter. Joey did as requested, quietly coming into the office. Sammy turned to face him, glaring for no apparent reason. 

“You c-called for me, Sammy?” Joey asked, shifting on his feet. Sammy squinted at him, lip curling into a snarl. “I- I mean, Mr. Lawrence.” 

“Not good enough,” Sammy growled at him, eyes narrow and angered. Joey blinked at him, confused and uncomfortable. “I need a token, Drew. I need a proof of your devotion, of your servitude.”

“That’s an incredibly weird and d-disquieting thing to say,” Joey commented. Sammy’s lip curled, an angry glint in his eye.Joey quickly attempted to recover the situation, biting his lip. “I think y-you need a break. A coffee?” 

“Bow.” Sammy demanded. Joey stared, blinking at him. Sammy stood up, glaring at the tall man with a crazed look in his eye. “I said, bow.”

“No!” Joey stepped back, shaking his head. “That’s- that’s ridiculous, Sammy. I can call you Mr. Lawrence and treat you as respectfully as I can, but I’m not indulging this- this madness!”

Joey did not have an instant to get away from Sammy’s grasping hand. It wrapped tightly around his tie, yanking Joey forward. 

“When I say to bow,” Sammy hissed, pulling him even more. Joey choked on the tug, trying to pull away from the mad musician. “I mean bow!”

He pulled even harder, knocking Joey off balance. The only reason Joey did not fall to the floor was his cane, tightly gripped in his hand. Joey scrambled to escape from him, but Sammy only grabbed his tie again. The black end in his pale hand flashed in Joey’s eye as he choked again. Sammy kicked at the cane in Joey’s hand, knocking it to the side. Sammy threw him to the floor again, Joey barely having time to catch himself on his hands to break his fall. Sammy kicked him in the stomach, making him curl up with the sudden, sharp pain. 

“There,” Sammy huffed, out of breath. He stared down at the artist on the floor. “That’s better. Good. Anyways…” he returned to the desk. “I wanted to tell you that the next episode’s music is nearly ready. Go tell Norman. Also, your last sync work was shoddy. Make sure you do better, next time.”

Joey was already pulling himself from the floor, hand tremblingly wrapping around his cane, backing away from Sammy slowly, holding the cane in front of himself. Sammy turned to face him, and anger spiked once again. 

“Did I say you can get up!?” he roared, and even Joey’s swinging cane did not deter him. He grabbed Joey’s tie again, and jerked him towards himself. Joey shoved him, but felt his tie tightening in Sammy’s grip- noticing that the man was doing it on purpose. Joey tried, desperately, to get away, though his skipped meals and reduced sleep and anxieties made it nearly impossible to even squirm. He felt his throat closing up tighter, and he scrambled at Sammy’s hands on his tie, trying to pull him off of the silk fabric. “You are nothing, Drew! You do as you’re told, you have no choice!” 

Just as Joey felt his vision going dark, he was dropped. Unable to really move, he crumpled to the ground, pulling off his tie and gasping. When his vision returned, he saw Norman chewing out Sammy, and then his hearing- which he had not even noticed fading- returned, heard it. 

“You need to apologize!” Norman was scolding him. “Joey’s going through enough, you don’t need to put more on his plate!” 

“I’m… fine,” Joey replied, his voice hoarse. Norman swiveled to look at him. Joey backed out of the room. “I’m going back to work.”

“Johan,” Norman reached for the man. Johan flinched back. “Joey….”

They stared at each other for a long moment, and then Joey slipped away, his tie woven between his trembling fingers. 

Henry did not mention Joey’s missing tie at dinner, but he did look at his throat. No comments were made, only the request to help Linda with her homework. Joey happily obliged, loving spending time with his- not his- daughter. 

Joey took his tie into the bathroom. 

He carefully undid the seams. 

Remade it. 

Henry complimented his new bow tie the next morning, calling him a handsome devil. 

Even as Joey forced a smile, he felt his throat grow tight. 

[bridgyrose]

More of the Messy Affair AU?

(Been a while for this one)

Ruby felt her heart skip a beat as she was led into Blake’s apartment in Mantle, suddenly not sure how she ended up here. Dinner had gone well and she had learned more about Blake than she thought she would’ve. She was a drifter of sorts, not really claiming anywhere to be home. She was also a huntress, one that tended to take more of the legally gray kind of missions, but a skilled huntress nonetheless. 

Blake closed the door and motioned for Ruby to sit down. “I think you’ll be perfect for the job.” 

“Perfect?” Ruby asked as she sat down. “And what makes you think that?” 

“You’re a huntress that’s been recommended to me, you already know Atlas and Mantle well enough for someone who doesnt live here, and you’re close to Weiss Schnee. In my book, that makes you perfect for what I need you to do.” 

“And what, exactly, do you need me to do that you cant? From the sound of it, you’re more skilled than I am for whatever this is.” 

Blake frowned a bit, then let out a sigh and pulled out her scroll with the details of the mission. “We need someone who’s close to Weiss in order to get some information. Names of the faunus that were working a few mines that collapsed, which mines are going to be next to reclaim from the grimm, things like that.” 

Ruby took the scroll and read over the mission details. Names of faunus, the next mines to be reclaimed, equipment that would be used, how many people would be employed… all of it normal enough. “You could ask Weiss all of this. She’d be more than happy to answer-” 

“Thats… not the full mission.” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m working with a group to shut down the SDC due to its practices.” 

“I cant help with that.” 

“We’re willing to pay you the same Weiss is for your services.” 

“Its not about the money-” 

“Its about your morals, isnt it?” Blake asked as she leaned over next to Ruby. “About what’s right. About not betraying someone you trust. But tell me, Miss Rose, where do you draw the line between trust and betrayal? Especially when the one you trust would be willing to betray you in a heartbeat.” 

Ruby blushed a bit as she stared into Blake’s eyes, seeing how her pupils almost looked catlike with her contacts. “I’m… I’m not sure what you mean.” 

“I know you’re on her payroll, but that doesnt make you safe from her or how the SDC treats their employees. Weiss will throw you away just as easily as she has everyone else. Do you really want to spend time worrying about that?” 

“I-I… I couldnt…” 

“And I can give you everything that she gives you.” 

Ruby felt her cheeks heat up as Blake kissed her. She didnt know when her heart nearly stopped beating from the surprise, nor did she know when she pressed into the kiss. But she did know she enjoyed it as she was pushed to her back. She panted as she stared up at Blake, her blush reddening as she felt her wrists pinned to the couch. “I-I couldnt… she’s my… I’m her…” She slowly lost the words she wanted to say, once again faced with not being sure what she was to her. 

“You know she’s only using you,” Blake said as she pressed against Ruby. “Its only a matter of time until she tosses you away like she does everyone else that works for her. Help me now, and I’ll make sure you’re never tossed away.” 

Ruby looked away for a moment as Blake kissed her cheek, catching a small tattoo on her shoulder. With a heavy sigh, she gave a nod and kissed Blake’s neck. “Let me think about it.” 

“How long will you need?” 

“Twenty four hours. I need twenty four hours.” 

“And then you’ll let me know?” 

“Yeah. Then I’ll let you know if I accept.” 

[fieldofdaisiies]

Elucien | Winnow Shenanigans

type: fluff warning(s): just pure fluff word count: 1.6k words summary: Lucien teaches Elain how to winnow. She is a fast learner and loves to use this talent to endlessly annoy her mate.

-all rights reserved-

“Focus,” Lucien drawls, his brow raising. Gritting her teeth and eager look spreads over the Archeron sister’s face. “I am trying to.” “Focus on winnowing, sweetheart. Not on my mouth or whatever keeps distracting you.”

The Autumn Court male gives his mate’s waist a soft pinch, having her squeal but then swat at his shoulder.

“I am not distracted by your mou—“ Said mouth closes over hers before she can finish her reprimand. Elain tastes apples and cinnamon, rich and lush spices –her absolute favourite taste in the whole entire world. She marvels into the feel of her mate’s soft lips against hers, his hand slowly stroking up and down her back, how he softly groans into her mouth, how warm and solid his chest is that presses against her own and…yes, she totally got distracted.

Hmpf-ing she pulls back, rolling her eyes and wiping the back of her hand over her mouth. Lucien is grinning, from one ear to the other, mischief glowing brightly in his eyes. “Told you.”

“You are so rude. I will definitely make you pay for that.” “I am looking forward to it. But now,” —Lucien spins Elain around so her back is against his chest— “focus on where you want to go. Close your eyes, imagine the place you want to go to.”

Lucien’s voice is breathy whisper against the back of Elain’s neck, his tone so gently, so kind. Lucien really wants her to learn how to winnow, he wants Elain to experience all the peaks of being fae, wants her to see how good it is to be fae and what she can do.

How easy it will be for her to tend to her garden if she can simply jump from one place to the other without having to walk for so long. Lucien’s big hands have a soft hold on his mate’s lips, providing her with the grounding she really needs in that moment. He is there. He is there for her. With her. Elain is not alone. She is never alone now that she has Lucien in her life. She never has to worry about ever being alone again. About having to deal with things on her own. She has a partner now. An equal. Someone who is her other half, who will always have her back, who is her anchor. 

“Good…” 

Elain closes her eyes, her fingers curling towards her palms when she focuses on the kitchen, the adjoint room, she wants to winnow to. She has already managed to winnow over very small distances, like from the dinner table to the couch, but she has never managed to travel to another room. She wants to change that now. She wants to do it. She wants to travel to the kitchen–winnow to the kitchen. Drawing in a deep breath, the middle Archeron sister braces her feet on the ground, bending her knees slightly so her body weight is on the palms of her feet. Her whole focus goes to the kitchen, on keeping her breathing steady and on the actual act of winnowing and then—

Blinking her eyes open, a loud squeal leaves Elain when she takes in her surrounding. Just a second later her own cheering is accompanied by clapping and the shouts of appraisal from her mate. The door to the kitchen being slammed open, Lucien hurdles in, lifts his mate of the ground and cradles her to his chest. “My perfect and lovely little mate did it,” he coos and buries his face in the crook of Elain’s neck, pampering her skin with soft kisses and taking in her scent. “Seems like you really are a fast learner.” “I am,” Elain says, pride lacing her voice. But also admiration and love about her mate’s joy about her winnowing. She revels into the embrace, burying her own hand in her mate’s silken strands and kissing the side of his head. 

Purely male pride and awe reach her through the bond as well, Lucien is nearly bursting with it and has to call upon all his restraints not to march across the Day Court and tell everyone that his mate is indeed the most amazing and stunning female that there is in all of Prythian. The world actually. But then he thinks that anyone anyways already knows this. 

“Should we try it again?” Elain eagerly asks, leaning slightly back in her mate’s tight embrace. A whole-hearted laugh parts the fiery male’s lips when searches his mate’s gaze, locking. “Calm down, my love. You might not feel it yet, but winnowing can be very exhausting. So go a bit slower, we can try it again in a few minutes.”

Pressing her lips in a thin line, Elain reluctantly agrees and nods her head. “Alright,” she says and quickly pecks the corner of her mate’s mouth. “But then we try something bigger. I want to winnow to my garden.”

As if Lucien could deny her any wish. He obviously agrees and so they try it again. And then again. And again until Elain finally manages to do it. Finally manages to winnow over larger distances and at one point even winnows to Helion’s palace and back to her and Lucien's shared home. 

Although winnowing should mostly or only be used to travel from one place to the other, Elain pretty soon figures out that it can be used for much more fun activities, namely annoying and scaring her mate. 

Oh, she loves nothing more than them sharing a kiss, Lucien already getting his hopes up high for what will follow their soft kisses and tentative touches, just for Elain to suddenly disappear. She mostly just jumps to another room where Lucien than can hear her laugh wickedly. 

And it is another day likes this. But maybe things are different, as Lucien has felt Elain’s sweet arousal through the bond all day. She is sitting on his lap in their shared bed, softly moving her hips against his while her lips drag across Lucien’s neck.

The male groans deep in his throat and throws his head back when she once again vanishes into thin air. “Elain!” he growls, one hand balled into the fist the other moving over his crotch. 

But he has been right, that night things are different. A moment later the door to the bathroom opens. Lucien’s mouth gapes, he finds himself unable to breathe. Because there Elain stands, dressed in the most stunning forest green lingerie he has ever seen her in, grinning from one ear to the other. 

“Just needed a change of attire. Don’t worry, I won’t leave again.”

And she really does not. 

But as mentioned before Elain also loves to scare her mate. When, for example, his is bent over his study in his room, skimming and scanning through all his reports and the future-High-Lord-of-the-Day-Court stuff, Elain just appears out of nowhere, saying her mate’s name or shouting “booh” before winnowing away again.

Not only once has Lucien already nearly had a heart attack, silently cursing his mate under his breath but also cursing himself for teaching her. He loves his mate more than anything else and obviously is still always filled with pride whenever she manages to winnow a farther distance because, well, look at her. This is his mate who has not been fae for all too long and she still manages to travel from one place to the other. 

But he also knows that he will make her pay at least a little for always either teasing and annoying him but also for scaring him. 

Lucien lifts his gaze, glancing out of the window to where Elain is tending to her garden. She seems extremely concentrated and deep in thought, currently planting something in a row. Lucien has to smirk to himself, knowing what he is about to do will scare the living shit out of his lovely mate. He waits just a few more seconds, before his magic transports him directly behind his mate.

“Booh!” Elain screams, startles and then topples over and falls, from her crouching position, face forward into the damp soil. “Lucien Vanserra!” she almost shouts, reprimand and anger lacing her voice when she rolls onto her back. Her face is covered in mud and she furrows her brows, glowering which Lucien finds hilarious. He has thought this would be good, but he has had no idea that it would end so good. Bending over with laughter, tears threaten to build in his eyes when he looks at his in mud-covered mate. “Payback,” he brings out in between laughs.

His chest still heaving and a single tears rolling down his cheek, Lucien stretches out his arm, offering his mate a hand to pull her up.

“Serves you right, I also meant to add,” Lucien says and pulls Elain, who has reluctantly grabbed his hand, up and into his arms. He does not care that the mud from her body now is also on him. He just wants to have her close now. So close that he can kiss the top of her head and then her forehead and then her nose. 

“I want to say I hate you, but you anyway know it’s a lie,” Elain mumbles, her voice muffled by Luciens shirt and chest. The male kisses her head again, his big hand softly brushing through her hair. “That was rude, but I have to admit that I maybe deserved it.” Tipping her head back, Elain blinks up at her mate and then grins. Lucien has to grin as well, holding her tightly in his arms. “I love you and I love that you learned how to winnow.”

“I love you and I couldn’t be more thankful that you taught me how to do it.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

tags: @rippahwrites @shadowhunter2003 @my-inner-crisis @ladyelain @acourtofthought @itwasalwaysaboutthetea @multifictional  @moonlightazriel @aayo-whatt @brekkershadowsinger 

[xxaraaq]

This is shit but I haven't posted in two months so this is what your getting. I hope you enjoy.

»»————-　➴　————-««

You’re very observant

You think this habit was formed from the absence of attention you received growing up. You were basically on your own, so it caused you to teach yourself how to do the things you needed to do to survive. There were of course people that cared for you enough to not let you always struggle alone. But it still hurt, knowing that you weren’t really important enough to be given the light of day for more than what was necessary.

All of the feelings and thoughts that had accumulated when you got to highschool had worsened. You had gotten sick of knowing that you weren’t anyone's favorite person. Sure you had friends, even best friends; but you had always known that you weren’t number one. You could see it in the way that you always ended up walking home alone at the end of the day, you could see it in the way that when they saw their other friends, their eyes would light up and a smile would come on their face. Not like the one they would give you, it was a smile that meant happiness, a smile that meant ‘there you are, you’re finally here!’ No one gave you that smile, but you would look extra carefully to see the way people’s faces would contort when they saw you. You don’t know why you’re still so hopeful, but you can't help it, for you desire you to feel the warmth of that smile.

—

Chewing on your pencil, you sit in class doing an assignment when you feel a tap on your shoulder. “Hmm?” You say, curious as to who was asking for your attention. “Hey, do you know how to solve the seventh problem? I’m stuck on the second step and I can't figure out if I’m supposed to carry nine over to the left or right side.” “You're supposed to find what x is, move it to the right side, then multiply it by one third.” You say, not paying attention to your surroundings. “Thank you, I looked away for six seconds to get a pencil then all of a sudden he’s handing out worksheets!” He exclaims, drawing attention from classmates. You laugh quietly, so as to not cause anymore distractions for the class.

That interaction led into a surprising friendship, he starts talking to you more and you always find yourself becoming immersed in whatever he’s talking about; conversations ranging from his love for basketball or his favorite store to getting snacks for the cheapest price. You also start to notice his mannerisms. You start to see that he straightens his posture when you walk in the room. You notice that he looks away and puts his hand on the nape of his neck when he gets embarrassed. You notice that he smiles at you, he gives you that smile. You start to realize that this is what it's like to have a  true friend. Someone that is happy that you’re there, someone that is happy to talk to you, someone who is happy to simply be around you.

The two of you had gotten so close that the team started to learn about you. They saw how he would run out the door as soon as he said his goodbyes and goodnights, they saw how he would look in the stands at half time. They saw the way his face would light up when he saw what he was looking for. 

“Kagami-san, who are you always looking for in the stands?” Kuroko asks, the usual calm expression. ‘Shit’ He thinks, noticing the stares he’s now getting from his teammates. “We’ve actually all been curious actually. Who’re you looking for?” Hyūga asks, successfully getting the attention of the entire team. “No one, just a friend.” He says quickly, a quiet blush on his face. “Who are you blushing over?” Shinji yells, a shocked look on his face. “No one.” He defends, his cheeks turning redder. “Our boy Kagami’s got a crush!” Shinji shouts, snickering smugly as he watches kagami get even more embarrassed.

After getting asked questions profusely, everyone finally makes their way out; the first person he searches for is you. When he finds you, a grin makes his way on his face. “You did really well.” You compliment, noticing a blush overtake his face as he looks away. “Thank you.” He says, his smiling growing bigger.

Yeah, you've finally found your person, and you couldn't've been happier that it was him.

»»————-　➴　————-««

-Nene

[neetily]

꣑୧ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ── MATCHUP EVENT: Date #9

♡ cupid's victim number nine!! ♡

hello love! thank u so much for all of the information you provided! i've complied it and hope that you enjoy who i picked for your matchup!! sending love!

─ you have one new message from...

Alex . . . (SDV)

how you holding up? lmk if you want me to come over and look after ya today, wouldn't be an issue. could actually try and have our little date this time round x

Why? you mentioned that your ideal type is (in part) someone who is ale to do all of the talking when you prefer listening, and i truly think alex is the best fit for this! he's a big big yapper, sunshine personality beaming down on you to help keep your spirits up with his endless chatter, laughing and joking together because he has endless topics to ramble about! and on the flip side, he really appreciates having someone who can just listen, sit by his side and make him feel heard without needing to do very much. also, nerd/artists and jock couple? power couple absolutely!!! you guys bounce off each other so well, turning differences into strengths! im imagining you both being outside together, alex is working out, practicing his gridball throws and building muscle, whereas you're perched by his side, pretty little sundress on that he can't stop complimenting, drawing the serene scenery on a nice sunny afternoon. he loves learning about everything you enjoy, because it's so opposite to him. and he likes to show you his side of things too, encouraging you to get a little outside of your comfort zone <3 he's also suuuuuuuper super into physical touch, loves to always e holding your hand, arm wrapped around your shoulder/waist, hugging and kissing you every chance he gets. he loves the idea of doing situps with you where you kiss him every time he completes a rep!

i think he'd also be so naturally dominant with you too, which i imagine you'd appreciate. someone to help guide you and praise you, and he'd appreciate having someone to look after intimately <3 you can always rely on him for whatever you may need!

Cosy Creature . . .

his muscles ache. not in the least due to the hard work he'd put into exercising this morning... and afternoon, honestly. burning arms and wobbly legs, it's a wonder that he's able to keep up with you at this point, falling onto your front with his chest squished against your tits. god, and the way your legs automatically lock around his waist? fucking hot. your whiny moans pressed right against his red hot ear, the long ignored movie playing on in the background of his bedroom; this was supposed to just be a normal movie night, a nice relaxing and chill way to wind down, just a little private date for the two of you.

but what started as a cocky flex of his well trained muscles, showcasing just how hard he'd worked out that day, fishing for shy compliments from the love of his life, soon turned into... well...

the mating press he has you bent into, folded in half upon his old mattress; oh how it squeaks from under you, rivalling the loud volume of the movie meant to mask the sound of your high pitched whines for more. but it does very little to shut you up when he has you pinned under him completely, open mouthed moans hidden in the crook of your neck, drooling all over your shoulder from how fast and hard he fucks into you in sheer appreciation over you.

all it took was a simple compliment. a sweet bit of awkward praise, so cute, feeling him up so softly— he can't help but to fall for it every single time, y'know? your anxious charm, he's learnt to pick up on the twinkle of your eye when sizing him up. and it was so easy to flip up your skirt, too. rock hard cock squished against your insides, leaking precum to mark your walls all sticky and tacky with his affection for you, his very own humped thanks against the deepest parts of your cunt with breeding intent.

it's the best way he knows how to thank you, after all. his voice as rough as his body feels while exerting more effort than usual into fucking you full, hoarsely growling down at you with "gonna give ya so many pups, love—"

— you like to... listen to music when alone! here is a playlist that i think fits your matchup!

Sweater Weather - The Neighbourhood

Sofia - Clairo

My love mine all mine - Mitski

[dogmomwrites]

Find the Words!

It's been almost a month, but I'm almost caught up! Thanks for the tag, @writewithfire! I'll be passing it along with a soft tag to @traveler-of-realms, @marinesocks, @penspiration-writing, and @oh-no-another-idea, as well as an open tag for anyone else who wants to join! Your words are bird, fire, realm, gelid, and austere

My words are issue, collapse, host, crack, and shadow. All excerpts are from Castle in the Ice, which will be undergoing editing once I get back home from our holiday visit!

Issue “You don’t look so good.”

He gave the dragon a flat stare.

“I didn’t mean it like—I didn’t mean it like that,” Faerdega said, dipping his nose down. “I just meant you look terrible.”

Tobias shot him a scowl. He laid his hand on Faerdega’s side, drawing a little more strength from him, just enough that he could stand on his own.

“No, I meant—” He sighed and gave his head a slow shake. “I did it again.”

Nuka patted his shoulder in commiseration. Though the dragon had learned to speak well, he was still a little awkward when it came to socializing. He’d been getting better, at least with Nuka. Other people were still an issue, it seemed.

Collapse Bracing against the rock, he threw himself onto the ledge and rolled to his feet, focusing his weight on his good leg. He took the risk and ran to the edge to check on the others. Whatever had knocked Tobias to his knees had also knocked him unconscious.

Caleb was beside him, holding him steady, and looked up. “Jay!”

Without hesitation, he dropped down. Another of the small projectiles flew past. It would have pierced his heart if it had hit him.

In a crouch, he spun around, searching for what Caleb had seen. Behind him, a figure was up and maneuvering around broken rocks and huge stalagmites. The figure glanced back and held something up. A brief glow flared up in the darkness and an instant later, pain shrieked through Jay’s chest. Then the figure resumed its flight.

He gasped at the pain, choking on a cry, but whipped his bow and an arrow out of his quiver and in half a heartbeat had the arrow on its way. True in flight, the shaft shot through the air to lodge in between the figure’s shoulder blades. It jerked and went down, seeming to collapse in on itself, making no sound in the echoing cavern, not even when it hit the ground.

Then another figure rose up a few feet away and held its hand up, aiming not at Jay. There was a small flash, just like the other one, and Caleb cursed in surprise and pain as the sliver pierced his shoulder. Dark red blossomed, staining his shirt.

“Caleb!” Jay dropped flat as the figure turned to him. “Go! Get out of here. Get Toby and get out of here!” He snapped up and shot an arrow, not bothering to watch where it went. His aim was never at fault. Sure enough, the figure jerked and collapsed with a dark shaft in its neck.

Host Blue walked right behind him, Hank with Ryder beside him. “You’re kind of nice, you know that? I thought you were just mean at first.”

The tip of his tail twitched.

“You’re also cute, and your fur looks very soft.”

His ears went flat.

“I would like to pet you.”

Stopping in the middle of the hall, Mochta set the lamp down and rounded on Blue. “There will be no petting!” he hissed.

“Alright, alright.” Blue stepped back, raising his hands. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you.”

Although it was clear by his twitching tail and the backwards angle of his ears that he was still irate, Mochta picked up the lamp and resumed leading them like nothing had happened. Neal kicked Blue’s leg from behind, a silent scolding for upsetting their host, and Blue shrugged back to say it was an accident. After a bit longer, they could see more light up ahead, until there was no need for the lamp Mochta carried.

CrackJerking the throwing axe out of the dead wolvin, he prepared to throw it again, but the others were all already dead. Spirit stood over him, shoving the carcass off.

“Jay,” Caleb said, scrambling up. He didn’t see her hand, didn’t know that she had offered to help him. He ran over to Jay, who offered him a grin.

“Nice of you to show up.”

“Came as quick as I could,” he said, not paying much attention to the banter as he checked his injuries. The vambrace was cracked and broken half off. Small pieces of it were jammed deep into his arm, but most of the blood poured out of the punctures left by the large wolvin’s fangs. Jay’s arm was crushed and torn, pouring blood from the multiple bite wounds.

Jay laughed, stopping and wincing when it hurt too much. He coughed, wiping a spot of blood from his mouth. “I’ll be fine, mother hen.”

Shadow“What if I mess up?” he asked. It was a question that had been bothering him since Tobias told him he’d be joining the team. What if he messed up? What if he got someone hurt, or worse, killed?

Nightwish looked at him, his eyes black as night in the shadow of his brim. Raavi held his gaze, feeling small and insignificant before him. Then the captain leaned forward and said, “Ye move on.”

He didn’t know if he should laugh or sigh. What else had he expected? Some deep, philosophical answer? It wasn’t like Nightwish to linger on mistakes. Nodding, he stepped away. “Yes, Captain.”

“Get some sleep, lad.”

“Aye, Captain.”

“Softer, it’s more effective,” Nightwish said, repeating Ryder from earlier, and Raavi snorted.

He walked backwards the first few steps to see the small smile Nightwish gave him, then turned and went to his tent.

[cass1x1]

[  WALL  ]  *  your muse pins my muse against the closest wall. / whee micah and lian

@sangre

v. i : logos

Over time, she has learned to sense the change. It is all in absences: the absence of sounds when he moves, the absence his warmth in their home. The absence of the sharpest knife in the kitchen, when she goes to start dinner.

Over time, she has also learned how to forestall her own end. Micah has a number of tricks—hand left carelessly on the stove, picking up a blade the wrong way. She has watched them hurt themselves when they think she is not looking, over and over, and she is torn between gratitude that he chooses her life over his comfort, and guilt that she would recover faster than him anyway. Few of her ideas have worked, though. Whatever comes over him, whatever power takes control of his body in these moments, it cannot be talked through or distracted or waited out. It seems those harsh sensations are the only effective ones.

Lian uses her better angle to bang Micah’s arm against the wall. It’s well toned, still silty from the project they were working on earlier, but perhaps in surprise, they drop the knife. Lian’s eyes flick to theirs, and although she is sure it is imagination, she feels she can see the two Micah’s, warring for control.

It is impulsive, an intrusive thought at first. Two Micah’s is not exactly a fantasy she has explored before, but the thought crops up in an old voice. I could control both of them. If it were too late, he could easily throw her off, but she can see the hesitation in that face. She leans forward, boxing their chest against the wall with her own, and buries her face in his neck.

Lian’s teeth find the spot, and she bares down hard, almost hard enough to break skin. She reaches up to their biceps, digging her nails in through their shirt. He gasps, tilting his head the other way to give her space. She sucks at the already reddening skin, licking it, soothing it over, knowing the hickey it will leave is going to be a serious one.

“You’re mine tonight,” she whispers.

Their reply is horse, but fully, completely, clear-headed them. “Yours.”

v. ii : epithumia

Lian cannot remember what they are at this event for. Micah’s family just beyond the door turns any occasion into a party, loud and brash and warm, but the details are forgotten in a trail following Micah’s touch, up her arm and towards her collar. His fingers are so gentle, she might not notice if it weren’t for the fact that she can’t think about anything else.

When they speak, it is low, private, a voice she is unaccustomed to in her roommate-turned-fake-boyfriend. “You look beautiful tonight.”

The compliment, so sincere and so unexpected, draws the truth out of her before she has the forethought to mask it. “I thought you would like this dress.” At the moment, Lian is quite fond—it has a slit on the sleeve that allows them to touch her directly, goosebumps popping up in the wake of their fingers.

They do not answer right away, seemingly transfixed on their own hand. Their fingers reach the shoulder seam, and Lian finds herself holding her breath. She tilts her head to the other side. Her hair falls away off her shoulder. Micah continues to trace his hand up her shoulder. Her neck. Her jaw. His hand flattens, and his thumb brushes over her bottom lip.

They have kissed before. Still, Lian needs to break the spell to check. “I really want to kiss you.” Her voice comes out a rasped whisper, like it knows it doesn’t really belong her.

She watches. Micah licks their own lips and swallows nothing. His hand settles against her cheek more comfortable, and he answers a quiet, “Yeah,” already leaning in to her. Lian cannot wait for him to reach her. She shifts, turning to face them, lips already catching his.

They have kissed before, but not like this. Micah’s hand stays cupping her cheeks, but he leads her gently toward him, and she follows eagerly. Eventually, he stops, but Lian keeps moving toward him, pressing him against the wall. His hands roam down the open slits of her sleeves, only touching her arm but sending chills through her entire body. Lian’s are moving too—fisting into their hair, running down their lapels. Seeking, seeking, seeking.

A sound bubbles up between them—Lian is not sure whose—and they part for air. Their chests move in time, rising and falling hard and fast. Lian skims her eyes along his chest, his throat, and up to his eyes. His eyes are fixed at her own lips, which quirk up in response before she leans in again. With the wall, she’s at an advantage to hold him there, enjoying whatever he is willing to offer her.

v. iii : pthora

It is a misplaced sense of self-preservation that guides Lian’s actions. She knows she will make it out of this encounter alive, and she knows she will not make it out of this encounter alive. Just as she knows the pressure of Micah’s hands, moving with that uncanny efficiency, cutting off her air. Her hands reach up, grabbing at the soft weblike skin between the thumb and the first finger, and she pinches. Micah’s hands release, but their eyes do not clear. She didn’t expect them to; he is too far gone.

Micah reacts with that same quickness that she has learned to recognize, already reaching to stop her. She grabs him by the wrists, trying to hold them both on one hand as she wheels around. The closet that she was rummaging in is still partially open, but its door slams shut as she presses those hands against it.

For a moment, that is all there is. They’re both breathing heavily as she grips his wrists, pinned just above his head. She needs both hands to hold him, and she knows that puts her at a disadvantage, but they’re level. Same height, eye to eye, they both just breathe. Lian stares into their eyes, always searching for that spark of the familiar. She is not afraid to die, but she is struck with the perverse longing that they be with her when it happens, really truly with her. This other self—she knows it is Micah, but in this moment, she knows he is not all there. She cannot ask them to watch her die with their full heart, so she does not. Instead, she can only grieve that his eyes as she goes will be clouded by whatever takes ahold of him.

The moment passes, and Lian can feel the muscles in those forearms straining against her. She lets go, tired from the strain of keeping them at bay and from the effort it takes to resist a death that won’t even last the night. It is still so early; she might be up again before sunset. Micah’s hands go for her throat, this time in a slightly more comfortable position. She bites down on her lip, reaching for his wrists but resisting her own instinct to try and pry him off again. Holding him gently there, it takes time before she feels the familiar threshold, where thoughts cease to be coherent. The world grows colder, and she tries to fix her attention on the warmth of their own pulse under her fingers. Hers grows faint, and she can feel herself slipping. Her grip grows weaker. She lets her eyes close, knowing this will at least be a relatively peaceful end.

[tell-me-a-tale-that-tells]

WARM HEART,

WARMER LOVE

Chapter 3: Diego

Pogo almost pray you at this point, he prays you to keep an eye on Diego after his last incident.

He came back home with two bullet wounds and scared the hell out of the entire family and you, so, for now, his vigilantes crap is off the list.

But you know Diego too well, he will sneak out a window or something like that and you're afraid that one day he will not come back home.

Two love lost is too much to bear for you.

Diego is lying on the couch, fidgeting with a knife, rolling a shoulder, the one hit by a bullet, probably he still feels pain.

You stood by the door, observing him until he noticed you and instructed you to come over next to him.

You sit down brushing a hand on his arm, taking the knife from his hand and inspecting it.

"Wanna learn how to throw this Y/N?" he asks you, probably hoping for a yes, he always loves to teach you things.

He also likes to learn, always observing you while you paint and teasingly asking you if you want to paint him, maybe without clothes on, it usually ends with him rushing out of the room while you throw brushes and other utilities.

"Maybe another time, when it's not raining outside and you're not injured. You're still recovering from two wounds, Diego" you respond in a rebuked tone.

He rolls his eyes annoyed and leans forward to stand up, he meets your best killer glare and returns with his back on the couch.

"I'm fine, see? All in one piece, limbs and all the rest minus a litre of blood" he gestures to himself.

Yeah. You see he is fine, fine a lot, you wonder by which damn criterion Reginald has chosen them, like "yes, this one will be gorgeous when they will be a grown-up".

Go. To. Hell. Reggie. But. Thanks.

Diego is always the hardest to convince when the task is distracting him, with Klaus is so easy, you just need to ask him if he wants to watch a movie or go out to eat something, Allison loves going into bars and chatting, Vanya loves watching you drawing, Five loves to talk about science and telling you about Delores, Luther is the easiest 'cause you just have to tell him "Because Allison says that" and he does whatever you want.

Diego can't stay calm for a single moment, always in movement, searching for something to do, someone to help, someone who deserves a kick in the ass and a stab in the knee.

"Maybe you can help me, Grace's birthday is in two weeks, do you know what to get her?" now you got his attention.

"Nope... She has an enormous amount of clothes, jewels, shoes, and bags even if she doesn't use them. It's pretty useless to make her a gift believe me." he sighs.

"You know what else is useless?" Diego adds.

"It's pretty useless trying to lie to me, Pogo asked you to keep an eye on me, right?"

"And I won't let you go anywhere." you confirm.

"Y/N, I'm thirty years old goddammit! I can do what I want" Diego pushes himself up on his elbows and in a sitting position before trying to stand up.

To prevent it, you do the only thing that crosses your mind, you straddle his hips, putting your legs on both sides of him.

This is a bad idea because now you are very close to Diego, a very startled Diego who has not even registered that he has his hands on your waist to keep you balanced.

"You. Are. Not. Leaving. Diego" speaking slowly and clearly, you're trying to intimidate him and probably failing.

"You sound very confident for someone red from tip to toe" he smiles smugly looking up at you, pulling you down to sit on him and grabbing your arms guiding them around his neck.

"NOW I'm not going anywhere" Diego is so irritating sometimes.

You don't know if you want to punch him or kiss him, maybe both and you don't know which one you should do first.

"You know I love you all and we have already lost Ben. One love lost is enough for me... Please stay, stop this vigilante thing. Reginald thought you to fight... Let me teach you some domestic life, maybe? Life is not all cracking skulls, you might like it. " you speak softly, caressing his scalp.

You see how he is struggling, he wants to listen to you but also to return to the streets.

" Domestic stuff is not for me, there are people that need me and the cops can't be everywhere" Diego tells you lifting you from him so he can stand up.

He collects all his knives before leaving,and you hear the front door shut closed.

Every time he leaves, you die a little bit inside, you're terrified by the news channels, afraid that they tell you he's dead.

Only when he returns home, beaten up black and blue, you start to breathe again.

Only when you peel off his blood-stained clothes and patch him up, you feel better.

And only when you finally see him sleep with you as his guardian angel, you can genuinely smile.

[thesundowncrew]

Samhain was paying more attention to Gruff laying on his boots and the scone he was munching on than any show of worry in Maude's expression. He finally looked up when Maude addressed him directly, and the noticeable weight pressing down on the table as she wiped off the stain. At the mention of aches and pains, Samhain rubbed the side of his neck and rolled his shoulder in a circling motion. "Duly noted," he chuckled, his demeanor cheery and warm as if nothing had bothered him during his short stint in the dreaming. "Ah forgot ah didn't get much sleep on account o'some late-night studying. Didn't even notice it happened till it crept up on me."

Seeing the worry in the inn-keeper's gaze, Samhain replied "Consider it lesson-learned." Unfortunately for Maude, he had said it with an unwavering smile that could only draw more concern and the words held no promise of it not happening again.

"Ah! Speaking of study," he suddenly said, getting up from his seat and finishing up the last of his scone. "Ah need something from my room. I'll be right back." The words were mainly directed at Nettie, letting her know he planned to rejoin her company once he had whatever it was he needed upstairs. He bowed his head towards Maude before excusing himself from the dining room.

In the safety of his room, barrier still up and running, he took out his pocket scrying mirror and called home.

"Yaaawn~ (smek smek) Oh hi Sammy! (giggle) Aww don't you look pretty, today?" bid a groggy Nightshade from the other side. "You okay? How's the case going?"

"Hullo Nightie," Samhain replied warmly, also relieved to see his friend safe and well. "Haha yes, thank you. Ah'm all right, an' there's been plenty o'progress so ah can't complain."

"Yeah? So what's up?"

"Ah need yer help. How soon can ye make one o'yer dreaming draughts?"

"A dream draught? Uuhh hang on a sec, lemme check our stock-" Sounds of padded feet on wooden floor and the shuffling of glass and ceramic containers. "..Marigold.. Orange blossom.. Some of the stuff needs to steep for a few hours soOOoo latest I can get one to ya's gotta be tomorrow - before lunch, tops."

"That sounds perfect. Ah'm counting on you, Nightie."

"Sure, sure - but be careful, Sammy!"

"Aren't ah always?"

"You really want me to answer that?"

Quite a tussle. “A necessary one,” replied Maude grimly. “He’d rolled himself in a mud puddle.”

Gruff looked entirely unashamed. He sneezed, then lay on the floor with his chin on Samhain’s feet.

Nettie giggled at Samhain’s theatrics and beamed at the compliments. “They’re to match your eyes! And the yellow’s because I like yellow.” She twisted in her seat to face Maude and admitted, “It broke, but Sam made it better with magic when he woke up.”

Maude’s smile faltered. “Woke up?” The words came out faint, laced with a tendril of worry.

“He was napping by the hearth,” explained Nettie as she plucked another cookie from the tray, oblivious to the shift in the innkeeper’s demeanor. She didn’t dwell on the subject of his nap, though, because he’d distracted her with far more interesting things. “He has a friend who can turn into a kitty! Maybe she could teach me how to turn into one, too.”

“Hm. Maybe.” The sight of Nettie’s jam-sticky fingers saved Maude from getting too lost in her thoughts. She clicked her tongue in disapproval and passed Nettie a napkin, then addressed Samhain as she scrubbed a stubborn stain from the table with her towel. “You’ll give yourself all sorts of aches and pains, napping in chairs like that.” Words chosen with practiced care — truths hiding darker truths. It’s not safe, she meant, and a deeper worry showed in her gaze when she looked at him. Please be careful.

[redrobin-detective]

Half of

Danny Fenton was half ghost. Or something.

No one was quite sure what that meant exactly or if it was even true. A ghost in a pure white suit had announced it during an attack on the town until he was beaten and silenced by Phantom. It’s been three days since then and the nerd hasn’t been at school. Not that Dash was looking for him or anything.

Dash worried, for just a second, that something bad happened to him. The Guys in White creeps had been asking questions around school the last few days. There’d been a noticeable lack in ghost attacks around town, maybe another ghost got to him? What about his ghost obsessed parents? Surely they wouldn’t have done anything to their own kid...

“Think Danny will be in school today?” Kwan whispered nervously, leaning in close to Dash’s side. Talking too loudly about the elephant, or ghost he guesses, in the room got people very forcefully interviewed by the government. 

“Why the hell would I know?” Dash grumbled, shaking his friend off to shove his hands deep into the pockets of his letterman jacket. “No one knows what’s going on, Manson and Foley haven’t shown up either.”

“I hope they’re ok,” Kwan said quietly, looking down at the floor. 

“Why do you care?” Dash grumbled, harsher than he meant to.

“You and everyone ditched me for Danny when Paulina was dating him, remember? Sam and Tucker were real pals and Danny, well he’s weird but not really that bad.” Kwan said bitterly before his eyebrows twisted in confusion. “That was actually pretty out of character for Paulina to date him now that I think about it, maybe he was, like, using ghost magic to control her?”

“That’s stu-” Dash was interrupted by the usually noise of Casper High going dead silent. He and Kwan shrugged at each other. He saw Star down the hallway, staring at something. He caught her eye and mouthed What is it at her. Her eyes slid back over to the hall before mouthing Fenton back. 

“Shit,” Dash couldn’t help but mutter under his breath, “Fenton’s here.” He glanced over at Kwan, trying to hide his nervousness. “Guess we’ll find out if he’s some sort of ghost freak after all.”

Kwan eyed him for a second, “you know if Danny really is half of a ghost then maybe you’ll want to quit it with the names.” The warning bell rang for first period. “You guys have homeroom together with Lancer, right? Just, I don’t know, don’t make him mad or anything.”

“Man, don’t even joke,” Dash said with a strained smile. “It’s Fenton, what’s the nerd gonna do?”

XxX

Fenton always sat in the back right of the class so seeing him there wasn’t that strange. What was strange was that he was there before the bell rang, not looking sweaty or exhausted or beaten up. Seeing him sitting there with an almost bored expression, casually leaning one arm over the back of his chair. It was eerie, seeing Fenton try to act normal. Dash felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand on his head as he stiffly walked by the nerd he usually smacked when he walked by. He thought he felt Fenton’s icy eyes following him as he passed. Dash made sure he didn’t scurry like a wimp to his seat but it was a close thing.

“Class, please stop staring at Mr. Fenton and let us begin,” Lancer sighed, unsuccessfully trying to start the class.

“Do you know the ghost boy?” Paulina asked, slamming her palms on her desk and ignoring their teacher. “Because if you’ve been holding out on me-”

“I mean everyone in Amity Park knows him,” Fenton shrugged. He’d been so chill this morning, like the whole thing wasn’t bothering him. It only made Dash more antsy. He bounced his leg under the desk.

“Can you do anything cool? Like fly or shoot lasers from your eyes?” Mikey asked, leaning forward with curiosity.

“I can do lots of cool things,” Fenton sniffed. “I know a lot about the space program and local astronomy. I draw sometimes and I’m think I’m pretty good. I also have super flexible joints so I can do this.” He grinned a little as everyone squealed when he bent his thumb back so far it nearly touched his wrist. “Of course,” his grin turned into an eye roll, “no one really cares about that only my supposed superpowers.”

“What is a half of, exactly? What that ghost called you?” Dash found himself asking. He almost didn’t want to be heard but Fenton turned to look at him anyways. 

“What do you think it means?” Fenton questioned back. Though he had a teasing smirk, his eyes looked dull and dead. Dash couldn’t look at them and ducked his head. 

“Alright, alright, enough with the questions. The Fenton’s gave Danny a clean bill of health and allowed him to rejoin class so that’s all you kids need to know. Now, back to what we were actually talking about.” Class continued as expected but everyone still snuck glances at Fenton. He’s not sure what they were all waiting for, him to suddenly turn green or sprout horn or whatever. But Fenton just sat there, still as anything, trying to act normal and it just didn’t fit him right and it was all just. Wrong.

XxX

Dash was relieved Fenton wasn’t in his second or third period classes but they did have the same lunchtime. For the first time since he was skinny, bucktoothed 6th grader, Dash wanted to hide away and eat his lunch in private. But Fenton wasn’t the only one trying to keep up appearances.

“Alright, what has everyone got,” Paulina was whispering to the table by the time Dash was sitting down. “The day is halfway over, someone had to have seen him doing something ghostly.”

“I mean we don’t know how long he’s been like this,” Star commented, flipping her hair as pretense to sneak a glance at the loser trio near the back entrance of the cafeteria. “He could’ve been hiding his for a while.”

“Fenton’s always been weird,” Dale commented with a sneer, stabbing at his beefaroni. “Since day one, he’s been jumpy and clumsy and goes through weird mood swings.”

“Maybe he’s never been normal,” Kwan said with a little frown. Now Dash knows this wasn’t true. He was the only one at the table who’d gone to the same middle school as Fenton. The nerd had talked too much about space and was always tripping over something but he’d been like all the other annoying brats in middle school. Dale was onto something, Fenton had changed once high school hit which means whatever is up with him as been going on for a while. Years. 

He suddenly felt eyes on him, a cold, crawling feeling that made his breath catch in his throat. Dash squeezed his eyes shut and breathed a silent sigh of relief as the eyes turned from him. They didn’t return but Dash found he couldn’t eat after that.

XxX

“Dude, did you hear about Fenton?” Victor said in an excited but still hushed whisper as Dash was leaving fifth period. 

“No, what did he do?” Dash asked with dread.

“He had gym last period and apparently he’s been faking his loser weakness. He crawled up the rope climb like a goddamned spider monkey and then slid himself back down. Don’t know how he didn’t have intense rope burn from that. He also beat Charlie, Katie and Veronica on the sprinting portion. Must be those ghosty genes.”

“Fenton did all that?” Dash asked, he bit the inside of his cheek. Hard.

“Yeah it was crazy, I thought Tetslaf was gonna pass out,” Victor laughed. “Maybe we should get him to try out for the football team, he’d be a great running back or-”

“Come on, Vic,” Dash laughed but the sound came out wrong. “Why would we want Fenton on our team? He’s, he’s Fenton! Just a skinny, weird little wimp.” Vic side-eyed him a bit before clapping Dash on the back.

“World’s changing, Dash. First ghosts, now half ghosts, it’s all wrong but you just gotta roll with it. All I know is I have 2 years left in this hell hole before I leave this miserable place for Chicago and never look back. I recommend you do the same, after all,” Vic grinned again but it was sharper. “Fenton’s always been your personal punching bag, not every day you learn your victim has superpowers.”

“We don’t know what the hell is up with Fenton,” Dash defended. Vic just shrugged.

“Yeah but he’s always been a freak now we know he ain’t human. Who knows what else he’s hiding?” Vic said with a smug smile before wandering off, giving a halfhearted wave over his shoulder as he left.

Dash stood in the hallway, trying to get himself under control until the warning and late bell rang. Only then, when he was certain he wouldn’t run into Fenton, did he head to class. 

XxX

“Should we follow him, see where he goes?” Paulina said, biting onto one of her nails in nervous excitement. Paulie was gorgeous and overall pretty cool but her thing with ghosts sometimes tired Dash out. Now more than ever. 

“Come on, that’s like stalking,” Kwan scolded. “Even if that wasn’t illegal or whatever it’s just not cool. They had a rough day today, leave ‘em alone.” That icy chill returned and Dash looked out of the corner of his eye to see Fenton and his cronies walking out of the school. 

Truthfully, Dash didn’t think Fenton had that bad of a day. Yeah people were asking questions but he’d side stepped them all, gave non-answers. Other people talked about Fenton’s supposed strength in gym but there’d been conflicting reports, some said he flew up the rope climb, others said he levitated doing his push ups. Dash really didn’t know what to believe. Fenton was just acting, well, like Fenton. He paused for a second, stopped walking before catching up with the group.

Maybe... maybe Dash was getting caught up over nothing. There really was no proof Fenton was this ‘half of’ other than what one dumb ghost said. He thought back to Fenton’s grin during first period; stupid nerd was probably milking his 15 minutes of fame and bully free time. His earlier fear and uncertainty burst into flames until a familiar anger was burning in his gut. Now this he knew what to do with.

“Yeah, well his day is about to get rougher,” Dash heard himself say as he stomped off to where Fenton was smiling tiredly at something Manson was saying. “Hey Fentonio! Think you’re pretty cool with every paying attention to you but I-”

Fenton gasped suddenly, like a hiccup only his breath misted out in front of him cold as a winter’s day. Dash stopped midsentence watching as Fenton’s whole face twisted. His earlier weary but tolerant annoyance that he’d been projecting all day was stripped away. He glared at Dash with an expression that was hard as ice and full of an exhaustion and bitterness he couldn’t begin to understand.

“As payment for being forcibly outed,” Fenton spoke up loudly enough that most of the school yard could hear him. “I was promised a week.” His eyes slowly but methodically scanned the crowd who had frozen in place at his authoritative tone. “Where I didn’t have to deal with ghosts, so I want to know... Who is trespassing on my haunt.”

Fenton’s mouth opened impossibly wide revealing what seemed like rows of sharped teeth. He curled his fingers into claws and, looking closer, his fingernails had indeed become real claws, as sharp and deadly as his teeth. His eyes blazed an impossible, ectoplasmic green and his dark hair developed streaks of white. He was terrifying, monstrous, but he was still Fenton. That feeling that had been eating at dash all day came back full force. Not the realization that Fenton had powers or whatever but that he had been hiding it in plain sight through ghost attacks and bullies and failing grades. This had always been Fenton, they just hadn’t seen. Until now that is.

And now the script had flipped and Dash didn’t know how this Ghost Fenton, who still was the same Fenton Dash had wedgied last Wednesday, fit. A green blob ghost materialized over by stairs, quivering and wailing in some ghost language. It turned and fled, presumably in the direction of the Fenton Portal to escape Fenton’s wrath. Fenton’s glowing eyes tracked it for a moment before he straightened up from his hunched posture and... was human again.

He brushed his hands through his black hair, lazily blinked blue eyes and, when he smiled, his teeth were normal. But Dash had seen, they all had. He’d let them see but to what end, he had no idea. Fenton turned to look at him with a raised eyebrow and another small smirk, just as tired as earlier.

“Sorry about that Dash, I take my vacation time very seriously. You were saying?” Fenton said with a smug lilt but his eyes were still dead and there was a bit of fear in them now. Despite his powers, he still gripped his backpack tightly.

“When your dumb little vacation’s up, Fentionail,” Dash said with a shaky voice. “It’s-it’s back to business, okay? Punches and wedgies and locker shoving. You,” he voice cracked a bit and he fought it down. “It’ll ramp up now that I know you can take it.” Fenton blinked, once then twice before he smiled. This time it wasn’t annoyed or scary or fearful but like the dumb grins he usually gave his dumb friends. 

“Yeah okay, we’ll start back up next week. The usual time?” Dash nodded, not knowing what else to say. “Alright, see you around.” He turned to walk away before pausing and turning back. “Actually you should be careful on who you shove into lockers, it can get hard to breathe in there and not everyone can phase out of them. You never know who’ll turn up dead,” he grinned and his eyes flashed green again, “if only half.”

That said, he and his friends walked away, ignoring the stares of the entire school on them. “Oh and it’s halfa, not half of,” Fenton called out over his shoulder. “I’m not half of anything, I’m just a whole me even if the details get a bit complicated.”

“Bye Danny, see you tomorrow,” Kwan called after with a grimace. No one else said anything for a minute until Dash found the strength to move his legs from where they’d been planted. He clenched his fists to hide his shaking and continued his walk home. Everyone else slowly did the same, talking quietly among themselves.

“What the hell was that?” Dale asked in a nervous high pitched voice. “What the hell did I just see?”

“Fenton being a weirdo but that’s nothing new,” Dash shrugged with a confidence he didn’t have yet. But if Fenton could show up to school after being outed and then willingly show them his inhumanity, then Dash needed to up his game. Couldn’t let the nerd be cool or anything. “So what if he glows or whatever, he’s still Fenton. Look I gotta get home, it’s Pookie’s feeding time and he is NOT going to believe the day I had.

[blu-joons]

When You Get Sleepy ~ The Boyz Reaction

Sangyeon:

As soon as he felt your head rest against his shoulder, Sangyeon knew that you were on the verge of settling down for a good sleep. “Keep your eyes open,” he whispered across to you, “let’s go to bed if you’re tired.”

You reluctantly opened your eyes as they threatened to close, “what about what you’re doing? You’re not tired just yet, are you?”

“No,” he laughed, “but I can play on my phone whilst tucked up in bed, you can’t fall asleep on my shoulder otherwise you’ll wake up with a huge pain in your neck tomorrow morning.”

“It would be worth it though.”

“Y/N,” Sangyeon laughed, shaking his head at how stubborn you were, “I know that if you woke up with a sore neck or back tomorrow you would still blame it on me despite me telling you not to fall asleep here.”

Your head shook, “I can’t believe you’d accuse me of such a thing Sangyeon.”

“I know you too well,” he replied, poking against your cheek, “it’s bed for you, whether you want to argue or not with me.”

“Fine, I guess going to bed wouldn’t be such a bad idea after all.”

Jacob:

With the movie coming to an end, and the night drawing in, Jacob’s eyes looked down to you in his lap, only to see your eyes closed. “Y/N?” He questioned, gently shaking you awake, “the film is finished if you want to sleep?”

Your head shook as you curled in further towards his lap, “I’m too tired to move, I’m happy just sleeping here, it’s nice and comfortable too.”

“It might be comfortable for you,” he laughed, shaking you again as you tried to close your eyes, “I’ll carry you up to bed if you want, but we’ll both regret staying here for the whole night.”

“Will you really carry me?”

“Of course,” he replied, sliding out from underneath you, “just stay where you are and I’ll have you tucked up in bed in no time,” he added, placing his hands underneath your body, carefully lifting you up in the air.

Your hands instantly landed against his chest, “you’re so strong.”

“I know,” he smugly laughed, making sure you were settled before he started walking, “and I didn’t even disturb you too.”

“You were effortless, and my eyes are still shut too.”

Younghoon:

The moment that you curled around Younghoon’s arm; he knew exactly what was happening. “Getting tired?” He quizzed as your footsteps began to slow on the long walk back from the studio to your home.

Your head nodded as Younghoon held onto you for support, “all I want to do is sleep, and there’s still so far ahead of us to go yet.”

“Why don’t you sleep on my back?” He offered, stopping the two of you in the middle of the path, “it’s not that far, I can piggyback you that short distance, and you can have a good rest too.”

“You’re not serious, are you?”

“Why not?” He chuckled, leaning down in front of you so that you could hop on, “it’ll get us home a lot quicker too, I know exactly what you’re like when you’re tired, your feet barely go in front of one another.”

Your eyes looked down at his back, “are you sure this is a good idea?”

“Of course,” he assured, grabbing onto your legs as you hopped onto his back, “just make sure that you hold on really tight.”

“Just be careful, I’m trying to sleep up here now.”

Hyunjae:

The pout on your face was all that Jaehyun needed to see to know what you wanted, opening his arms out for you to walk into. “If you’re tired, go to bed,” he suggested as you made yourself comfortable against him.

Your head shook as he pressed a kiss against the top of your head, “I want to go to bed with you, not by myself, it’ll be too lonely.”

“I’ll be done soon,” he promised you as he continued to track the download of his work on the screen, “and then I promise that I’ll be yours for the rest of the night to cuddle.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“Fifteen minutes,” he estimated, smiling as your grip around him tightened. “I’ll take that as a sign that you’re happy to wait fifteen minutes?” He questioned, unsurprised when your head nodded back at him.

You smiled gently, “I don’t want to let go of you now too.”

“You might have to let go so I can change into something comfortable,” Jaehyun tried to tell you, but your head shook in reply.

“Find a way to do it so that I don’t have to let go.”

Juyeon:

A soft sigh came from you as you found Juyeon sat in the spare bedroom, walking up behind as soon as you could and wrapping your arms around him. “What’s wrong?” He asked, pausing his game to look back at you.

You smiled weakly as you met his eyes, “I was just feeling a little sleepy, so I thought I’d come and see what you were up to.”

“Did you?” He questioned, raising his eyebrows, “so I guess you would be alright if I said that I hoped you had a good nap and then went back to playing my game, without napping with you?”

“You know what I really meant.”

“You want me to come and nap with you?” He asked, although he already knew what the answer was. “You should have just said,” he joked, smiling widely as your eyes widened back at him too in surprise.

Your eyes glared across at him, “I can still learn to hate you, you know?”

“You could never hate me,” he smiled, taking his headphones off, “come on, I guess I can spare half an hour to nap with you?”

“Half an hour? I’m not letting you go that easily.”

Kevin:

His smile instantly grew as Kevin looked down to see your head resting in his lap, your eyes staring up at him. “Yes?” He smiled, knowing straight away that you had a look on your face that wanted something.

You hummed back up at him, “I’m tired,” you whispered, grabbing onto both of his hands, “and I think that you are too.”

“I don’t think I am,” he laughed in reply, “I think I’m wide awake right now, but I also think that someone wants me to be sleepy so that I can go upstairs and nap with them, am I right?”

“Please, I want to cuddle you.”

“And what do I get from it?” He teased, unable to stop himself from laughing as a frustrated pout appeared on your face, “because I’m rather comfortable sat here, and I’m enjoying watching this programme as well.”

You sighed loudly, “I’ll do whatever you want, if you just come and nap with me.”

“Whatever I want?” He questioned, making sure that he’d heard you right, “you might end up regretting that you know?”

“I won’t, for once I will literally do whatever just to get a cuddle.”

New:

The feeling of your head resting against his back as he cooked instantly caught Chanhee’s attention, glancing back at you. “Why don’t you get some sleep before dinner?” He suggested as he noticed your eyes close.

Your arms instead snaked around his waist, “can I just sleep here and follow you around? You won’t know that I’m even here.”

“I’m pretty sure a nap on the sofa would be much more comfortable,” he tried to suggest, but your head shook back at him, “how am I supposed to cook with you holding onto me too?”

“That sounds like something you should figure.”

“It’ll be you that goes hungry,” he continued to tease, purposefully walking you past the pan so that you could smell what was cooking. “It’s one of your favourites too, I’d hate for you to miss out on eating it Y/N.”

Your head shook against him, “have I ever told you how much I hate you teasing?”

“You might have mentioned it once or twice,” he continued to joke, “but it’s just another reason why I find you so adorable.”

“Fine, you win, I guess I’ll nap on the sofa so then I can eat.”

Q:

It was game over for Changmin as soon as your head rested against his shoulder as you struggled to fight off the persistent urge to sleep. “Y/N,” he whispered, knowing that you’d heard him as you made yourself comfortable.

As he repeated himself, your head shook, refusing to acknowledge him. “I can’t hear you,” you replied with a gentle laugh.

“Really?” He mused, running his hand along your side, “I’ll soon make you hear me,” he assured you, waiting for just a moment before he began to attack against your side with his hand.

“Ouch! Changmin, I’m trying to sleep.”

“You can’t sleep on me,” he frowned as you sat yourself back upright, “as much as I love cuddling you to sleep, doing it on the sofa is not the way to go, why don’t we head to bed instead, it’ll be more comfortable.”

You sighed softly, “my legs feel like they might fall off if I walk now Changmin.”

“I guess that just means I’ll have to carry you then,” he grinned, standing up from the sofa before scooping you up, “how’s that?”

“Suddenly I don’t feel so sleepy anymore.”

Juhaknyeon:

Once the door was shut, your head rested straight into Haknyeon’s shoulder as you drove away from the arena. “I knew you were tired earlier,” he frowned as your eyes closed, curling into his side for extra comfort.

Your head nodded back at him, “I just said that I wasn’t tired so you wouldn’t make me go home, I was enjoying watching you film.”

“You should have come a different day if you were tired,” he scolded in a whisper, “the fact that you came all the way over here to bring food for us all was kind enough, you didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to come and see you.”

“Next time nap first,” he laughed, wrapping his arms around your shoulders, “you’re working hard at work right now and coming straight onto a loud and busy set is doing you no favours, you can’t keep your eyes open now.”

You hummed in reply, “that’s because I’m just so comfortable when I’m with you.”

“Nice save,” he scoffed, pressing a kiss to the side of your head, “as soon as we get home, you’re going to bed, you need rest.”

“I’ll only go if you promise that you’ll come and rest with me.”

Sunwoo:

As soon as he was greeted when he said your name, Sunwoo knew that he found himself in trouble. “Don’t sleep there,” he frowned as he saw the way in which your body bent to wrap against his side tightly.

After debating for some time, Sunwoo eventually began to shake you away gently. “What?” You murmured as you began to stir.

“Bedtime,” he announced, chuckling at the groan that followed from you. “I know you’re comfortable, but I promise you right now that you won’t be comfortable in the morning.”

“I’ll survive, I don’t want to move.”

“I know,” he sympathised, “but the movie finished, even though I think you slept through most of it, and I don’t think there’s too much point to putting something else on when you’re just going to sleep through it again.”

Your head nodded, “put something else on, then you have to leave me here.”

“That’s not happening,” Sunwoo sighed, “I’m taking you up to bed whether you like it or not, on your feet or in my arms too.”

“In your arms? I wouldn’t complain about that.”

Eric:

The second he noticed you beginning to sway, Youngjae raced to your side, allowing your body to relax against his side. “You should have said that you were tired,” he sighed across at you, “you could’ve fallen.”

Your head shook as he wrapped his arm around you for support, “I didn’t want to be a distraction whilst you’re trying to work.”

“You’re never a distraction,” he frowned, studying your fluttering eyes closely, “why don’t I take you back to the dressing room for a while and you can nap on the sofa whilst we rehearse.”

“But I don’t want to miss it.”

“You won’t,” he chuckled, slowly walking you away from the stage, “if you nap now then you’ll be wide awake for the show later on tonight. I’d much rather than you awake to see that anyway then the rehearsal.”

Your head nodded, “will you wake me up, so I don’t miss it whilst I’m napping?”

“Absolutely,” he assured you, “although I’m sure the noise of all the boys will wake you up well in advance, they’re never quiet.”

“I know, that’s why sleep on the tour bus last night was a no.”

---

Masterlist

[hollandsmushroom]

Okay well this is me requesting the bench press fix blurb whatever it is lol, I don’t mind if there’s no smut, up to you and how you feel while writing it, thanks!

Both Fucking Bench Press || T.H.

Warnings: 18+ SMUT, 69, filthy, cum eating(obvi), oral both fem and masc receiving

Word Count: 1650

A/n: Third installment of my accidental series about Y/n and readers at home gym debauchery, I don't know how this came to be but you guys seemed to love it so I hope you like this one just as well. It isn't necessary to read these but this is part 1 and 2: Mouth Fucking Pushups Mother Fucking Squats

give feedback here and read more here

At this point you and Tom should have learned that you are incapable of working out together, it was always gonna end up with pants on the floor and cum smeared faces but you let that slip your mind as you both made your way down to the in home gym, preparing for your respective workout routines. You knew it wasn’t going to end with you both having completed your planned activities but you also knew that it was going to end with you having had some form of work out, a much more pleasurable one than you had mapped out.

You wished that you could have held out longer than you did, laying on the floor trying to focus more on the burn in your abs than the soft grunts of exertion that were leaving Tom’s perfect lips but your attempts were useless, back falling onto the padded floor one final time and bending your neck backwards, catching a glimpse of Tom over your shoulder, your eyes able to see directly up the leg of his loose fitting workout shorts. You could see all the way to the swell of his peachy bum and where the hair on his legs got thicker as it hit around the base of his dick. Your mind wandered as you noted this, why wasn’t he wearing boxers?

You pushed up from where you had lain, standing up and moving towards Tom, swinging one leg over his waist and bracketing Tom’s hips with your knees, your cunt hovering just above his apparently already hard cock. Tom’s eyes widened at your sudden presence but didn’t question it, racking up the bar and eyeing your finger as it scratched its way down his chest tantalizingly slow. His sore hand grabbed your wrist gently, bringing it to his lips and placing a soft kiss to the flesh just over where he could feel your heartbeat.

“What are you doing, love?” Tom muttered, eyes you through the shade of his interwoven lashes.

“Wondering” your response was short, prompting a raised eyebrow and a nip at your skin.

“What are you wondering?” you shook your hand free of Tom’s gentle grip, going to squeeze his flexed muscle as you leaned forward, lips dancing like a flame near his own as you uttered your inquiry.

“Could my superhero boyfriend bench press me?” your eyes were locked with his as you spoke but flickered downwards as finished, watching how his lip became entrapped between his teeth, a wicked grin over taking his face as his hands trailed down your sides, gripping into your hips and picking you up. Tom’s biceps flexed deliciously as he hoisted you up above him, pressing you up so your abdomen was above his face, shirt loosening and exposing the sweaty skin to his eager eyes. He had been watching you, you just didn’t realize, like before when he had placed himself between your legs and the moment devolved in your cunt smearing across his face.

“He most definitely can” Tom growled, unlocking the joint of his elbow and letting you lower towards his face, your legs straightened out so you didn’t fall off of his flattened palms as he pressed you back up again.

“Holy fuck” the words slipped past you lips on instinct, in pure awe of your partners strength, the exhibition of his power sending a heat to the plush between your legs, hieghtening the sensation of your heartbeat in you finger tips as you held them out, head ducked down to be able to witness the strain and tensing of Tom’s bicep, loving how if moved under his taught tan skin.

“Holy fuck is right” Tom uttered and you heard the swish of his unfitted workout shorts, drawing your eyes to the prominent bulge that laid beneath the breathable fabric, bringing your mind back to the glimpse of him that you saw earlier from your position of the floor.

“You’re hard” you didn’t realize the words were coming out of your mouth until you heard Tom chuckle, legs shifting with anticipation and need.

“Uh, yeah, I um, yeah” Tom choked on his words, the rare spark of anxiety burning in his chest as if you hadn’t rode his face and he hadn’t fucked your mouth in the last month.

“I’m soaking” you muttered in assurance, an appeal to help douse the flame of insecurity that your boyfriend seemed to be fueling and it seemed to snap him right out of it, his eyes widening immediately.

“Yeah?” the tone of his voice had completely changed, and shred of doubt dissipating entirely as he twisted your body above his, spinning you like a baton as if it was the easiest thing in the world ceasing as your bodies laid parallel, pointing in opposite directions. “Let me see” the sly syllables trailed past his lips as he brought you down, your knees instinctively bending and resting on the work out bench so that your knees bracketed Tom’s face.

Tom’s cock was in your face, trapped beneath the constraining fabric of his shorts, an alluring sight that had your mouth watering instantly. You pressed one hand into the cushioned bench, using your other hand to cup his cock, his length practically jumped at your touch. A shiver etched its way down your spine as Tom’s fingers curled into the hem of your pants, tugging down at the tight fabric, your panties coming with, as he exposed your core to himself, and your description was apt, you were soaking.

“Fuck, baby, you’re not just soaking your dripping” his hands massaged yoru ass cheeks as he pulled you down close to his facd, close enough that his tongue was able to swipe through your folds and gather your arousal in his tongue, the taste earning a hum from the depths of his chest. A strangled moan escaped your mouth and Tom joined in, the sensation forcing your hand to tighten around his hard on.

“Tommy, are we-” you stopped, choking on the fact that Tom’s lips were now wrapped around your bundle of nerves, sucking as he let kitten licks press through his pout. “Are we going to do this?” you were finally able to get out, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through your veins, fingers slipping underneath the fabric and near Tom’s heated cock, pulling down the waistband till it was resting beneath Tom’s balls.

“I thought we already were,” he mumbled, his face still buried in your cunt as he traced your folds with the flexed tip of his tongue. You smiled widely as you listened to Tom’s words, leaning down and taking Tom’s leaking tip into your mouth, the salty taste of precum blooming across your taste buds as you began to suck intently. Your actions made Tom moan loudly into your cunt, jaw opening wide and sending the humming sensation through your cunt. His cock was heavy on your tongue, the weightiness of emboldened and libido flushed flesh. You were both devolving into moaning messes, spit and arousal dripping mouth and cunt alike, an exchange of the most animalistic kind, and it was burning its way through you. The fact that when you bent your head just right, licking at the side of his cock with intensity, you could watch Tom eat you from between your bodies was exciting and intensifying every freeling your body was experiencing.

Tom dragged his tongue from your clits, swirling the taught muscle downwards till it drew circles of your spasming entrance, teasing the hole as he dipped into it slowly. He rocked his head as he did so, pressing the crook of his nose to your clit but it wasn’t enough to satiate him, he needed more, yearning to drown between your thighs. His hands snaked their way around your thighs, pulling you down towards him as he pressed down on the rounds of your ass. The pressure on your clit eased the pain of desire and fed the flames of your orgasm that were dancing in your lower abdomen.

“Tommy!” you whimpered, pulling off of his cock just enough to be able to moan out his name, a warning that you were close and you knew that he was as well purely by the way he was humming into your cunt and how his cock was twitching in front of your face.

“Me too baby, let go” he assured, as you took his cock back into your mouth you felt the world shatter around you, the only real feeling was that of Tom’s tongue and his dick in your mouth, sliding in and out as you somehow managed to maintain the movement even through the mind bending pleasure. You both came hard, your juices being lapped up as Tom continued to relentlessly lick, your mouth filling with cum as hot white strings painted the inside of your mouth, the salty tang grounding you from slipping off into a pleasure induced haze.

Eventually you had both drained yourselves, no energy left in your euphoric bodies as you somehow ended up on the floor of the room. Your chin pressed into Tom’s pec as you looked up at him with largely dilated pupils and he looked back at you with the same.

“I don’t think we can work out together anymore, Tommy” you muttered, your fingers tracing indiscernible patterns across his heaving chest.

“What? Why?” Tom asked, his arms wrapping around your shoulder and pulling you closer to him.

“Well it never really ends up with us working out” you tried to remind him.

“But doesn’t it though? Cause I feel like I worked out and your legs are still shaking like you squatted 1000 pounds, so I actually think we should work out together more” Tom chuckled, pinching your side and pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“You are insatiable” you poked him back.

“And you like it”

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[rainyearning]

unavernales​:

bits and pieces about noori’s home life had come to the surface over the course of their relationship. serghei could gather that his parents had a shit marriage and an even shittier divorce, with noori forced to be little more than a spectator. serghei’s own home life and model of domesticity had also been chaotic at best, dysfunctional at worst. there’s no mystery as to why they both seemed so averse commitment. despite it all, they come back together without fail. again and again. serghei thinks that’s worth something.

“mm, my kitten’s such a baby,” serghei murmurs and noses at noori’s cheek as he yields to the other’s silent request for cuddles. the empty bottle is chucked into his recycling bin. “i have an eboard meeting at 6, but until then…” being vice president of the frat could be demanding. he’s used to scheduling his days by the very minute. however, he can’t deny that noori is consistently his priority. he pulls noori flush against him, manhandling him easily so noori faces him. really, his boyfriend’s the prettiest thing on this earth. flushed, fluffy haired, and doe eyed. he could look at noori for hours. finds it difficult to not stare. he strokes noori’s waist before trailing his hand to the younger’s lower back, drawing little circles with a calloused finger.

“i got something to go down your throat right here,” serghei can’t help but point out with a raised brow. nonetheless, he’s nothing more than a servant to noori’s whims. he reaches over noori to get his phone from the top of his dresser. two missed calls from farrah, some shy texts from new pledges to please keep it down because they’re studying, and a winky face from chaewol. he unlocks his phone and hands it to noori. “order whatever. i’ll tell kieran to bring it up when it gets here.” because serghei is not leaving noori until he 100% has to. “get me a burger and fried chicken.” serghei’s appetite is already enormous, and it’s only magnified by the fact that they’ve been going at it for hours. plus he’s not in season, so cutting weight isn’t an issue. “and a milkshake. chocolate. and don’t order that fish shit you got last time. stunk up my room for fuckin’ days.” despite his complaining, he’s leaning in to kiss at noori’s shoulder, down his arm and up to his jaw again.

Noori appreciated that Serghei was all over him, how he would follow his wishes so easily.. happy, that Serghei would cuddle against his side. He needed the comfort of his partner next to him, learned to cherish it and thrive with this attention. And now that he was fucked so well, he wanted to have Serghei lay with him for naps. “Not a baby. A real babe, that for sure.” And Noori was grinning a little, using one of his hands to brush back some curly brown strands of sweaty hair. “I had it down my throat plenty of times today, but let me tell you. still hungry. Cum isn’t as full filling as you may like to think.” It’s an easy reply while he nuzzled the males neck, wrapping his arms and legs around his parter, though, he then needs ti give the phone some attention, just so he could pick himself something to eat. “To be fair, it was their fault my fish didn’t smell too good. Means, it wasn’t as fresh as I would have liked it to be.” Noori shrugged his shoulders shortly. He didn’t plan to order the same dish again. Burgers, fries, the chicken and Sergheis milkshake were already placed, he himself got a vanilla milkshake, which was the only thing he easily settled on. And after a few moments of scrolling through Sergheis phone, Noori would just get himself a chicken burger and some fries. “Is ordered.” He hummed and honestly, he liked that Serghei had that much influence that he could have some random kid bring their food up into his dorm so they wouldn’t have to leave the bed. “You know..” Noori started, stretching out his legs shortly. “I am all sore.. you will have to carry me for the rest of the day.” He lifted his head shortly. “And maybe we should shower after we had something to drink.” He was rolling over just so he could straddle Serghei, looking down at him. “I love you.”

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

[angelguk]

Going raw with jock jk 🥴

well...aw shit here we go again (literally nawt edited)

pairing: jock!jk and oc

warnings: use of pet names, mentions of orgasms/oral sex (fem receiving), unprotected sex, creampie, jeongguk is SO IN LOVE, yeah its soft and horny :3

There’s an edge to the air that Jeongguk feels in his chest. It’s sharp, loaded with something unfamiliar that leaves his heart in a mess of nerves, thumping loud in the silence of his room. In the distance, his brain registers the unforgettable boisterous laugh of Mingyu downstairs, probably laughing at something silly Yoonho said. The pair were always around, clambering around Jeongguk’s dorm as if they lived there while Yugyeom grumbled from his seat on the couch. Normally, he would be a little bit annoyed. Jeongguk loved his friends but he also adored his solitude (there’s also the fact that one time they cleared the fridge of all his banana milk and ate his galbi leftovers). But right now, he cannot fathom leaving the comfort of these four walls to kick them out. Not when you’re panting into his bed-sheets, skin flushed warm and a blissful glaze covering your eyes when you flutter them his way.

Nothing in the world mattered as much as you did.

“You good?” He whispers it into the hollow of your neck, delicately planting a kiss there a moment after.

The sigh you release seeps into his heart, a soft gentle sound that he longs to hear again.

“Perfect,” you quietly return, gracing him with a smile that could end wars and clear skies.

He wants to do this slowly, savour every part of you all over again. He can still taste you on his tongue, the memory of your muffled cries and beautiful tremors so fresh in his mind that it’s almost violent. But his own desires demand attention, cock hard against the line of his stomach, a need so desperate building rapidly. His hands travel slow by force, but you know him too well, knocking your legs apart so that your heat meets his, slick eagerly coating the length of him.

The groan he lets out his accidental, melting into the air as Jeongguk buries his face in your neck. In his dismay you giggle, a devious sound, as your fingernails trail down his back, digging into muscle with purpose.

“It’s you’re turn now, love.” It’s murmured into his ear, your hands sinking into the mess of his curls. You brush them away with a fondness that cracks his heart open, something wild and beautiful blooming in his chest.

Love. Love. He thinks about that word a lot. Thinks about it when you cheer for him at his games, tiny frame jumping onto the bleachers so you can see the field better. When you wack at his arm and laugh at his lame jokes. When you drop an iced americano in his hands after his tortuous nine am classes with Professor Lee. When you tug him into your arms and kiss him like you want to memorise the feeling on his lips on yours. When you look at him. When you hands slides into his, a fit as perfect as your bodies moving together in his bed. 

Love.

You.

He thinks he might. He knows he does.

He should say it. Soon at least. Before it comes out during an untimely situation. Like the time your car broke down in the middle of a busy street and when you called for help Jeongguk was terrified that you’d gotten hurt. The itch didn’t leave even after you’d explained the situation, angry honking and your voice trembling with concealed tears. He wanted to say it then. Needed to. It almost slipped out when he said goodbye, promising to come as quickly as he could.

I love you.

Would it be that big of a deal? He thinks about as your hands fall from his body. He rises slowly, moving to rummage through his drawers for a condom. There’s four left. He bought a pack of 30 not even two weeks ago. Perhaps he spent more time learning the taste of your cunt than he did on his lectures. But this was still new. Bright, unlearned. He’d just figured out that you like it when he pins you down hard, making it impossible for you to squirm as he licked you apart. So perhaps the rapidly emptying box is warranted.

When he looks back at you, you’re staring at him. The foil feels funny in his hands. He gives it a twirl before attempting to tear it open.

“Actually,” you interrupt. He halts, heart loud in his head. “We... You... What if we didn’t use it?”

Oh. 

“Because, well,” you quickly tack on, shuffling upright. Jeongguk will admit that he did stare at your boobs as you did so. “We both got tested right? And, I am on birth control.”

Fuck. He most definitely came a little at just the thought of fucking you raw. Not that he hasn’t thought about it. But before it was never an outright possibility. Not until now, when you look like an angel in his bed, your body his temple to worship.

“Okay,” Jeongguk tries to keep his voice levelled but he knows it wavers. Whether it’s fear or excitement he can’t discern yet. “We can do that, yeah.”

You smile and he drops the condom like it scales him, climbing back into your arms where he belongs. It takes a little bit of shifts and shuffles, quiet laughs and gentle kisses interrupting the journey, before Jeongguk settles at your entrance, sliding in with an ease that should be criminal. You take him so well that he nearly blows his load right there, a tight wet heat welcoming every inch of his length. He doesn’t miss the way your back arches from the back, his hands cupping the back of your hips. There’s a whine that escapes from your throat, followed by the sound of name. You’re delirious, your moans colouring his room warm. He can’t help but buck forward, lip caught between his teeth as he forces his release down. His thoughts are stuck on how good you feel around him, velvet walls fluttering when he pauses, gives you a moment to adjust, his gaze dropping to your half open eyes.

“Bunny,” he murmurs. You mumble something incoherent, which Jeongguk replies to by bucking his hips deeper. “Bunny.”

“Hmm?” 

“Look at me.” It takes a moment but you force your eyes open, gaze meeting Jeongguk’s. His curls keep tumbling into his face but you can still feel the heat of his gaze from behind them. “Good girl.” There’s the rock of his hips, followed by a sharp tug as he pulls you closer to him . You can feel him in your guts, thick cock splitting you right open. “Be good for me, hmm? I’m not gonna be gentle with you, baby. You can take it though, can’t you?”

“Y-yes.”

“Aren’t you perfect,” Jeongguk says it as he slips out, before slamming back hard enough to draw a cry from your mouth. “Pussy made just for me.”

Your high is right there, creeping closer the harder he fucks you. It doesn’t help that you’ve cum twice since you’ve set foot into his room. Once on his fingers, the second on his tongue. But they can’t compare to the heat that builds when Jeongguk finally slides into you. It’s euphoric, a tingling that skips across your skin, burning when he fingertips wander to your clit like they do now.

“J-Jeongguk! Can’t — I can’t —”

“You can. You said you would, bunny. Be good for me.” He hooks your legs over his shoulders then, fucking hard enough to rock the bed, the wooden frame bumping against his walls. Your moans are no longer quiet, harmonising with the sound of your skin meeting. Jeongguk can’t be bothered to cover your mouth like he usually would, too busy ignoring the pit in his stomach. He needs you to do it first, it’s what drives his hips forward, thrusts fervent. You do a moment later, your fingernails scrapping his back and his name on the tip of your tongue. He lips slot against yours naturally, swallowing every moan and mumble with love. He kisses you until he needs to breath, parting to whispers praises as you unravel around him. It unlocks something wild in his brain, the feeling of your wetness coating his cock with every buck of his hips into you. Whatever springs forth consumes him, so much so that Jeongguk nearly blacks out when his own crescendo hits, almost violent in how it slams into him. He can’t think about anything else but the feeling of the two of you around him. Perfectly wet and warm as he reluctantly slides out.

Your hearts thump in unison, an orchestra of their own, your joined hard breathing accompanying the melody. His brain is blank, bones warm and mushy. He could die happily right now (not really, though, cause that means he’d never see you again). There’s nothing but contentment bleeding through his system when he reaches out for you, comfort blossoming in his chest at the feeling of your skin against his. 

He can’t dispute it then, the second your gaze hits his. He loves you. He loves you so much he could burst with it. You smile as he crumbles, biting his tongue because the words are just there.

“Jeongguk, baby,” you say, crawling into his arms. He never wants you to leave them. “I love you, but could you please get me a towel or something. It’s kind of leaking out of me.”