#you take that away and dude is gonna wake up in a pool of someone's blood in the middle of a freshly burned down warehouse

[mostlikelytofangirl]

I have a very strong imagine of WRH calmly walking through a huge office fire that he set because the menial work was making his mind into a puddle and arson is more entertaining than boredom

I really do want to see what would happen if one were to put WRh on cocaine or maybe have him smoke weed

Dunno why, but it really does feel like modern WRH's worst enemy is boredom. It's just so dangerous to let this man get bored bc his minimal self-control is thrown out of the window for good.

Trying to get a legit 9 to 5 could only end up in arson after the first couple weeks bc that's honestly preferable to the soul-crushing office work the rest of the mortals are slaves to.

He would try drugs just to see what happens lol.

Now, weed shouldn't be that much of a problem, it might actually be beneficial bc you just need to give him something shiny and he'll probably be entertained for a while.

Cocaine tho.

That would be the most extreme and lethal case of the zoomies known to mankind. He would try to rob a bank with a homemade bomb and probably suceed, crash the entire stock market, overthrow a couple conglomerates and commit every felony and then some, all in a day and a half.

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"The Taste of You"

Rating: Explicit

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Bucky Barnes

Tags: Fresh AU, dark rom-com, dark!Bucky, pre-serum Steve, cannibalism, kidnapping, yandere/basement wife, meet cute-ish, gay sex n' stuff, dub-con

Summary: Steve is so tired of the meat market that modern dating has become. Just when he's deleted all the apps and given up on ever finding Mr. Right, he meets the perfect guy at the grocery store.

A dark, cute, funny, fucked up, and very tasty love story.

A.N.: It's not as murdery as it sounds 😅 But, as per usual: minors DNI. It's a Fresh AU. "If you can't handle the cannibalism, get out of the kitchen"--or something like that

1. Specialty Ingredients

Steve watches, mouth literally hanging open, as it happens again: his date is stomping away, mad.

He just called Steve a scrawny, cock-teasing twink for making out a little on the sidewalk, but then declining to go back to his place to hook up. The guy pressed the issue and Steve got frustrated and told him tersely that he wasn't interested because they just met, okay? That went over like a lead balloon.

Steve scowls as the jerk disappears around the corner at the end of the block. “Well fuck you too,” he mutters, feeling put out—and okay, a little hurt, too. He’s not a cocktease. He’s not scrawny.

Well, maybe that second one is kind of true, but Steve hates how guys will act like they’re into his small stature when they think he’s a sure thing, but then get all derogatory and mean about it once he tries to tell them he’s looking for more than a hookup and wants to take it slow—and not even hetero people slow; gay guy slow, which is super fast in comparison! Steve just wants to get to know a guy for once before sleeping with him. Is that really so bad?

He huffs and turns around, walking dejectedly back to his car. Another handsome asshole, another hope dashed, another pathetic date. He really does have the worst luck, and he’s getting plain sick of it. He checks his phone before he drives away.

Clint: Well???

Steve sighs. He types back a reply to his friend

Steve: another dud

Clint: dude …

Steve rolls his eyes and chucks the phone onto the passenger seat. He turns the key in the ignition, the radio coming on to an old eighties love ballad that just worsens his sense of dejection. “Fucking figures,” he mutters, putting the car into drive.

He leaves the song playing though, because sometimes wallowing is called for.

The next morning, Steve wakes up in a glum mood. He tries to focus on his work for most of the day, rather than his horrible luck with dating, but as he paints the hours away he winds up pouting about it anyhow. He sinks further and further into a depressing pit of self-pity and despair.

Clint texts him, asking if he wants to go out and sing karaoke or something, and Steve knows he’s just trying to cheer him up and all, but he really can’t stand the thought of being cheerful right now.

Steve hates gay guys, he thinks, stomping over to the crappy small sink in his crappy small apartment’s kitchen. He runs the water and rinses off his brushes with a vengeance they don’t deserve. Gay guys suck. Steve hates how shallow they all are, how vapid and self-centered. All they want is to go clubbing and fuck around and that’s it. None of them want a real relationship, and they think Steve is boring for wanting to have a meaningful conversation instead of suck their dicks right away. He gets grumpier about it the more he thinks, and he even has the thought that at least if he were straight he could find someone with feelings, a desire for genuine connection. “Gay guys suck,” he mutters to his poor, abused paint brushes.

Nevermind that Steve himself is incontrovertibly homosexual and has no choice in the matter of what his dating pool consists of. After all: ‘Haters gonna hate, players gonna play’. “Gaays gonna gay, gay, gay, gay, gay.” Steve sings the tune under his breath. He just hates it, hates it all. He’s sick and tired of playing the game.

He sends Natalie a nastily self-deprecating text:

Steve: Know any of your girlfriends who might want to date a faggot?

It’s not nice, and he knows she won’t like him using that word in that context.

Natalie Potential Rich!! Buyer: another douche huh?

He sighs and texts back an apology with a huggy emoji.

Steve: Sorry 🤗 Just frustrated. All the good ones are taken and I’m not interested in the skanks who’re left over.

Natalie responds with the “Give that man a Snickers” Diva-meme, which makes Steve realize that he is, in fact, hungry. He needs to get something to eat. He needs to focus on himself for a change. Maybe it’s finally time to stop looking for Mr. Right and just enjoy Steve Rogers. Maybe he should join a gym, start a new hobby, anything to fill up his time with himself rather than another person. 

He goes into the kitchen, thinking that he’ll make something yummy and binge watch a new series off his Netflix list, but scowls at the barren interior that greets him when he opens the fridge door. Nothing good to eat. “Fuck,” he mutters. He’s got to go to the grocery store now before he can sit down with a meal and relax.

And it’s raining outside, too. Just his fucking luck.

His phone ‘pings’ and he looks over at where he’d set it on the counter. The screen is lit up with a new notification from Grindr:

Henry super liked you!

He picks up the phone and opens the app. Henry’s profile pic is only from the neck down, showing off his abs. Steve rolls his eyes. The next picture is his lower half, a pair of tighty-whities stretched over his erection making it lewd, but still within the app’s no dick pic rules. The third pic is of his bare ass in a jockstrap.

Steve spends a second more than he intends appreciating the guy’s backside, but then he growls and jabs his finger at the screen to reject the guy. He’s fucking fed up with this entire thing! On a sudden, right-feeling whim, he exits the app and holds his finger down on the screen until all the icons start wiggling with their little x’s. He quickly proceeds to delete Grindr, Scruff, and Hornet from his phone.

He’s fucking done with dating. He’s giving up. Steve is just not meant to find Mr. Right. Not this year, anyway. He feels lighter after deleting the apps, and he slides his unburdened phone into his pocket with a sense of accomplishment and a shiny new idea: He’s not going to date for a whole year. He’s going to make this The Year of Steve.

Fuck yeah.

He goes to the hall closet to grab his umbrella and rain boots.

The walk to FreshMart is only four blocks from his apartment, but he still arrives at the grocery store a little damp from the gusting rain. He shakes off his umbrella by the door, grabs a basket, and directs himself towards the produce aisle. He’s added fingerling potatoes and some asparagus spears to his basket, and has just started perusing the meat section when he hears a man’s voice say, 

“Hey, have you ever had this?”

Steve looks over. The guy is holding up a package of bloody red … something. Steve blinks. “Um …”

The stranger twists his lips and shakes his head, looking at the meat. “It’s venison. I thought I’d freak my sister out with something a little different.”

“Your sister?” Steve asks, feeling very odd at being asked his opinion in the middle of the meat department. He looks between the package of raw meat and the stranger—He’s unusually handsome, tall and strong-jawed, brown hair styled in an effortlessly flattering cut. Steve licks his lips nervously. “Um, isn’t that like, deer meat?” He takes a step closer to peer down at the label. “Huh.” He didn’t know regular grocery stores sold that kind of thing. “That’s … exotic,” he says, for lack of a better word.

The stranger chuckles. “Yeah, well. I actually don’t eat animals, so …” he shrugs. “But her and her husband and kids are total carnivores. Thought I’d bring something other than my usual bottle of wine.”

“Oh.” Steve peers up at the man, trying to figure him out. The man smiles sheepishly and Steve winds up smiling, charmed, if somewhat baffled. He looks the man in the eyes and is taken by how pretty they are, how intense. Damn he’s good looking. “Well I, ah, couldn’t tell you what it tastes like. I’ve never had it.” He makes a face. “Like I said, it’s exotic.”

“Oh I love to cook with exotic ingredients. I’m kind of an amateur cuisinier. Or at least I try to be.”

“Oh. Right.” Steve gestures to the blood package. “But you ah … you don’t cook only vegetarian stuff?”

The man grins (and shoot, he’s got an unfairly attractive smile, too). “I guess I just like to satisfy other people’s appetites,” he says, lips parted enticingly. And then his tongue darts out in this totally casual, should-be-illegal sort of way. “I take it you’re a meat eater,” he says knowingly.

Is that a double entendre? Steve thinks it might be a double entendre. Yes! he wants to scream. Yes! He is 1000% a meat eater. He gulps as the guy’s eyes flick down and back up his body in a heated onceover, and Steve may not always be the brightest bulb in the box, but he can tell when he’s being considered. Is this guy really flirting with him? Here? In the freaking grocery store? Is that even a real thing that happens, anymore? Steve flushes and pulls his shopping basket up higher in front of himself, like a shield. “I–I see,” he stammers. “Well … um … yeah.” God, he’s hopeless.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Venison’ll probably be … different.” He nods at the stranger, awkward and aware that the other man isn’t moving away. “Well. Good luck.” He turns and vacantly peruses the meats, pretending that he’s more invested in searching out the perfect porkchop than he really is. He hears the guy’s footsteps moving away.

“Fuck it,” the man says, and turns right back around. He takes a deep breath. “I like your boots.”

“What?”

The guy nods downwards. “Your rain boots. They’re really cute.”

Steve looks down at his feet. His rubber boots are pink and printed with the golden girls’ faces. He looks back up at the stranger, stunned. No straight guy on planet Earth would ever say such a thing. “Um. Thanks.”

The guy holds out his hand, friendly, like he’s not aware he’s acting weird as shit. “I’m James.”

Steve probably stares too long at the offered hand, before he hurries to shove the handles of his shopping basket up onto his one arm so that he can take the guy’s—James’—hand and shake it. It’s pleasantly large over his own hand. “Steve.”

James smiles. He’s arrestingly handsome when he doesn’t smile and Steve feels like an even weaker creature when he does. “Sorry,” James says, looking down shyly. “I uh, I don’t usually do this.”

“Do what?” Steve asks, keenly aware that he may just be about to be propositioned. He winces at the idea of having to turn down another good-looking jerk.

James tilts his head. “Would you …” He hesitates, eyes flicking up and over as a woman passes them. She turns and goes down the soda aisle. He looks back to Steve, distracted. “I was gonna be crazy and ask for your number,” he says, flushing. Steve doesn’t even get a chance to say anything before James is scrubbing his hand over his embarrassed face. “Fuck, I’m sorry. You’re probably not even—” He looks back to the soda aisle where the woman had gone. “Sorry,” he mumbles again, and starts to walk away. “Human disaster in the meat aisle. Just ignore me, please.”

“Wait!” Steve blurts. James turns back around. “Why do you want my number? Were you gonna ask me out? Like on a date?” He uses the word purposefully.

“Well, yeah.” James looks apologetic. “Sorry. I know it’s weird.”

It is weird. But Steve is kind of charmed by the guy’s odd methods. He promptly pushes away his resolution of The Year of Steve. “James,” he says, taking a step closer. “Um, you can. Have my number.” He peeks up at him shyly. “If you want.”

James' happy-surprised-enthused smile is the best one yet. They exchange numbers.

Clint: Wait, wat do you mean, the grocery store??

Steve: he came over and just started talking to me.

Clint: … that’s weird, man. That’s shady.

Steve: actually it was kind of cute. Kind of idk old fashioned.

Clint: Kind of weird. Whats his Insta?

Steve doesn’t hear from James for almost three days. He alternates between finding it refreshing, and being disappointed. Maybe Clint’s right. Maybe the guy was just a weirdo.

Then, on the third day, Steve is leaving from his morning shift at Michaels when he hears his phone ‘ping’ with a notification. When he sees the name “Weird Meat Guy” on the screen, his face splits in a grin.

Weird Meat Guy: Been thinking about you since the other day.

Happy butterflies come to life in Steve’s stomach at the flirtatious tone of the text. His first instinct is to force himself to ignore it for at least thirty minutes, so that he doesn’t seem overeager. But then he thinks, fuck it, just like James had said in the grocery store before turning right back around to ask him out.

Steve types a reply.

Steve: hey stranger. Yeah I was wondering how that venison worked out for you. 😂What’s it taste like?

Weird Meat Guy: I don’t eat animals, not even for my sister’s Sunday dinners. But she said it was fine. Not as good as regular old cow, though🐄🥩

Steve: not surprising.

There’s a bit of a pause where he can see James is typing and deleting and typing again. Then,

Weird Meat Guy: Do you want to go out tonight? We could grab drinks or something?

Steve bites his lip, bad memories of “casual” meetups and “just grabbing drinks” dates and what they’ve always led to, in the past.

Steve: let’s go out to eat. At a restaurant or something. A real date.

James texts back almost immediately, and his answer makes Steve beam like a fool.

Weird Meat Guy: Hell yeah. What’s your favorite kind of food?

Steve can’t help it; he has a good-verging-on-great feeling about this guy. He tries to tuck away his expectations that this time it’ll be different. He can still do The Year of Steve if or when this goes wrong. He’ll just try this one last time though. Just once more before he swears off being a “meat eater” for the year.

He tells James that he really likes Italian food, and the next thing he knows, James is sending him the link to a really nice and expensive Italian place in Brooklyn. Steve thrills at James' enthusiasm, and grimaces at the three dollar signs that Google has lined up beside the restaurant’s name.

He tells James okay, figures he’ll just tighten up his budget a bit for a few weeks after.

James meets him inside the restaurant, at the bar. He’s already got a drink in his hand. “It’s an old fashioned,” he tells him sheepishly. “Sorry to start without you.”

“No, it’s fine.”

“I just get a little nervous when I ask a cute guy out to dinner.”

Steve freezes, but then his mouth twitches. “Oh,” he says. “You, ah … you think I’m cute, huh?”

James grins and winks at him in a way that is devastating and should-not-be-allowed. “Yeah. I sure do.”

Steve is charmed.

The hostess seats them in a dark and cozy booth in the back of the restaurant. Steve settles in and looks around, impressed. “This is a really nice place,” he says, genuinely meaning it but also kind of anxious to open his menu and get a look at whatever prices garnered a $$$ on Google.

“Yeah it’s one of my favorites.” James is grinning at him from across the table. “I was so glad you picked Italian, cause then I knew I had the perfect place to bring you.”

Bring you. Steve looks down and tries not to smile too obviously at the words. “I like it so far,” he says, peeking up coyly at James so that he knows Steve doesn’t just mean the restaurant.

James seems to get it, if his expression is anything to go by.

They open their menus and Steve’s stomach drops at the forty dollar appetizers. Shit. He wishes he’d found a way to mention to James that he’s kind of a starving artist.

“Do you like mushrooms?” James asks, oblivious to Steve’s internal panic. He’s looking across the table at him with eager eyes. “They’ve got the best stuffed mushrooms I’ve ever had. I think they put crack in ‘em.”

Steve laughs despite himself, then decides ‘fuck it’ once again, and closes his menu with a nod. “Sure,” he says. “Let’s do it.” He’ll live frugally for a month if he has to.

James orders them the appetizer and an entire bottle of wine that he knows by its specific name and year. All Steve makes out is the “‘94 ” part of it, and his heart rate picks up. He’s about to really worry about how the hell much a place like this is going to charge for an entire bottle of wine that’s older than he is, but then when the server delivers it and pours for them, James shoots him a wink and tells him, “S’my treat.”

Oh. Steve’s heart flutters as much at the gentlemanly gesture as it does at the possibility that maybe James will pay for the whole meal. A guy can dream.

The mushrooms arrive and Steve gushes to James about how he was right: they are amazing. They get to talking, covering the standard ‘first date’ questions, and it’s stupid and awkward like it always is; but also it isn’t, because James seems to laugh about the awkwardness of it, too. And that makes it kind of fun.

James is thirty-seven to Steve’s twenty-seven (Daddy kink: activated). He has a place in Manhattan but his sister lives in Brooklyn, which is why he was shopping at the FreshMart in Steve’s neck of the woods the other day. He’s got one parent still living, grew up with a loving family but “pretty poor” in Jersey. He hasn’t been in a relationship or even been on a date in “a really long time.” He wants to travel more but he lets his work consume him too much. He doesn’t eat animals.

He’s also really good at making the whole first-date interrogation-phase go smoothly. It’s fun with him, Steve realizes, not awful and strained like it usually would be. Their conversation just seems to flow naturally and easily, both of them smiling almost continually as they chat and joke.

Steve is utterly charmed.

“Okay,” James says, as he pops another mushroom into his mouth and then talks around it. “I’ll do another boring one: what do you do for work?”

Steve gulps and delays answering by taking a sip of the wine—a red that downright tastes expensive. “Um, well my passion is my art. It’s what I went to school for.” He tucks his lips in and shrugs. “But, ya know, ‘starving artists,’ and all that. So I work part time at Michaels, too.”

James doesn’t look like he’s thinking that Steve’s a stereotype or a loser or anything like that. “That’s awesome!” he says, sounding like he genuinely means it. “What kind of art? Or like, what medium do you work with?”

Steve blinks. Nobody ever asks him good questions like this, like they actually care and want to dig deeper into who he really is. “Um, mostly acrylics. Some watercolors and pencil-charcoal sketching,” he says, flustering at the way that James pays such close attention to his answers. “I like to mix it up sometimes, but mostly it’s those three.” He shrugs. “I sell online. I have one really loyal patron—she keeps me afloat. S’nothing that special.”

“Sounds like you know your stuff,” James counters, not letting him insist on his own mediocrity. “If you went to school for it and all, then you must be pretty good. Don’t you have to, like, audition for art school?”

Steve blushes and looks away. “Well. Yeah.”

“And I bet you get all your supplies cheap with the side gig, huh?”

Steve stares at him. “Yeah,” he says, impressed. “Employee discount.”

James nods sagely, as if he’s ever had to worry in his life about the utility of an employee discount. He might’ve grown up poor, but he’s clearly well-off now. Steve can tell that the suit he’s wearing is a custom tailored deal, and the wine he’s ordered for the table has a bouquet of oak and dollar bills. “I think it’s really brave of you,” he’s telling Steve, looking like he admires him or something ridiculous like that. “That you’re following a passion like that? That you can just …” he makes a shaping gesture over the table with his hands, “make something with your own two hands and then sell it? That’s incredible.”

The more James talks, the more Steve gets his hopes up that he might actually be A Really Great Guy™️. Steve can hardly stand to take all the compliments, so he turns the question back around on James: “What about you? What do you do for work?”

James hesitates. “... I’m a surgeon.”

Steve’s eyes go wide and his mouth drops open, making him look like A Gold Digger™️, probably. He closes his mouth. “Oh. Wow, that’s … that’s neat. Medical school, then, huh?”

James smiles through a wince, as if being a freaking doctor is no big deal. “Yeah. It was rough for a few years, but I got through it. I’m in a good place now. It’s pretty smooth sailing.”

“So do you work at like a hospital or something?”

“Not exactly.” He stares at him for a long moment, then suddenly says, “Gosh, I’m just really attracted to you, Steve.” Steve blinks, taken-aback. He reaches for a hurried sip of his wine and tries to think of a response to the weird shift in conversation. “Sorry,” James hurries. “I just felt like I had to say it.” He gives Steve a tender look rather than a lecherous one, which is a welcome change from the usual script. “I think I might really like you.”

Steve flusters and averts his eyes to the tabletop, peeking back up at James a few times. The guy is totally focused on him. It’s intimidating, but not in a bad way. “Yeah,” Steve eventually manages to murmur. “Yeah I think you might be nice.”

James teases him about the ‘nice’, and they fall into easy banter again as they finish the mushrooms and open up their menus to choose their entrees. Steve’s once again fixated on the prices, and he immediately starts trying to see if there’s anything under sixty dollars …

“By the way,” James says casually, not looking up from where he’s reading his menu. “I know this place is fucking ridiculous: I got it covered.”

He says it all easy and nonchalant, like it’s no big deal that he’s treating Steve to what’s probably a three hundred dollar dinner, and Steve once again feels like he’s on a date with a hero, a real gentleman. “Kay,” he says smally, feeling delighted and hopeful as heck on the inside. 

He orders a seafood linguini, and James gets a spinach and cheese tortellini dish. “This is so good,” Steve practically moans around a mouthful of his food. 

James makes a noise of agreement, stuffing another tortellini shell in his mouth. “Mmph.”

“So you really don’t eat any meat?” Steve winds up asking. “Like, not even fish or chicken or anything?” Where does he get his protein? James looks like he keeps in good shape …

James chuckles. “Nope. Haven’t touched the stuff for … gosh, almost fifteen years.”

“Wow.” Steve spears up another shrimp from his pasta and wonders if it offends James. “So like, is it an ethical thing or just …”

“No, no. I just kind of had this epiphany one day—while I was tenderizing a thigh, mind you—that all the things I was eating were living creatures, that we’re animals just like they are.” He makes a thoughtful face as he considers it. “It’s not a moral viewpoint so much as it is a …” he trails off and his eyes return to Steve with an apologetic shrug. “I dunno. My viewpoint shifted that day. Couldn’t shift it back. I’ve tried so many other things now, animal meat just doesn’t taste the same anymore.”

“I can respect that.” Steve wiggles his fork that’s speared with a juicy scallop. “As long as you don’t mind this.” 

“No, no way. Don’t you remember where we met?”

Steve snickers. “Oh yeah, how could I forget. What was it you said? You like to ‘satisfy other people’s appetites’?” He chances a flirty look across the table. “Wasn’t that how you put it?”

James chews, smirking, and he winks at Steve again. Goddamn. “Yeah,” he says lowly. “Yeah. I sure do.”

On the sidewalk outside the restaurant they stand close together, bundled in their jackets. Neither one of them seems to want to leave. “Thanks again,” Steve says. “For dinner. It was really nice.”

“My pleasure.” James takes a step closer, so that they’re almost toe to toe. “I was so excited to go out with you,” he says. He brings a hand up and traces the side of Steve’s face with the backs of his fingers, not looking at Steve’s eyes but rather where he’s touching his cheek. “You’re different,” he murmurs. "And I knew it the moment I met you."

Wow, what a fucking intense thing to say. Steve … doesn’t hate it. “I am?” he whispers, watching his breath swirl on the air between their faces.

“Mmhm. I can tell.” 

Steve shivers and fights the urge to press into James’ touch on his cheek. It feels unduly intimate, and they’re already so close. “I was excited for tonight, too,” he confides. “I’ve had a lot of bad luck with dating. Was getting sick of trying, to be honest.”

“But?” James asks softly, and Steve looks up at him, for once feeling open and honest enough to just admit,

“But I didn’t meet you on some app. And you liked my stupid Golden Girls boots.” James chuckles and Steve looks up, taking in his face up close: the dimple in his chin, the creases of age that’ve barely begun to collect at the corners of his eyes, that one tiny patch of grey in his beard. It makes him all the more insufferably handsome. “And you’re charming,” he whispers. “So there’s that.”

James smiles softly. “Aw, shucks.”

“I think you’re a really nice guy, James. I’d like to see you again.”

James' smile widens hopefully. “Yeah?” he says, leaning even closer.

“Yeah. I think, well … I just think …”

“What?” James touches his face again, this time palming his cheek. “Tell me.”

“Oh, it’s nothin’.” Steve finally lets his eyes slip closed, enjoying the feeling of James’ hand on his skin, the cologne he gets a whiff of when they’re standing this close. “You smell nice.”

“Thank you. Still haven’t told me what you were gonna say.”

Steve smiles sadly. “Oh, I’m just getting my hopes up about you, is all.” He’s still got his eyes closed when James kisses him. He inhales sharply through his nose, surprised. But he doesn’t pull away, and they just … keep kissing.

Eventually James cups his face with both hands and Steve moans, because the way James is kissing him feels so natural and good. He feels like he can taste James' good intentions as they make out softly, right there on the sidewalk.

When they part they’re both panting a little, heavy-lidded eyes flicking over one another, gauging, desire tinged with uncertainty. “That was …” James breathes.

“Yeah,” Steve says, and they both stare at each other for another long moment, before Steve says, “Fuck it,” and surges in to grab James by his jacket and kiss him again, this time harder. James whimpers needily into his mouth, and heat shoots through Steve’s belly at hearing it, arousal flaring to life faster than he can handle. Suddenly his pants feel a little tight, and he wants James so badly he can hardly stand it. “Oh man,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss, grimacing at himself for what he’s about to say. “I really, really never do this,” he promises against James' lips. “But … Do you want to go back to my place?”

James' eyes widen. “Yeah,” he breathes. “Fuck. Yeah, okay.”

They kiss eagerly one more time and then hurry off, giddy, hands clasped, and headed in the direction where James says he’s parked his car.

Masterlist

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[leighton-o-fallamhain]

Jealousy ◈ Dean Winchester

You had just finished a vampire hunt and successfully killed the whole pack. Now you guys were celebrating in a random bar.

A while later, Sam was already searching for the next case on his computer.

Dean is hustling some poor guys in pool and making flirty eyes at all women around him.

And you? You were just sitting beside Sam and watching helplessly as Dean look at all women except you.

You had a major crush, no scratch that, you love that man for two years now. You had met the Winchester three years ago when you were on a hunt with your father.

You were hunting a Wendigo, or so you thought. Turns out it was an entire pack of them. You two didn’t stand a chance and were badly injured. Just as one of them got ready to launch at you, he lit up in flames and fell to the floor. You immediately crawled over to your father and tried to wake him up.

In the background, you could hear the rest of the Wendigos being lit up, but you didn’t care. You slightly tapped your father’s cheek to get him to open up his eyes. After nothing happened for some seconds, you were getting desperate and started crying and shook your father before someone took you by your shoulders and softly pulled you away.

“No, let me go, I need to help him!” You tried to get out of their grip.

You saw a brown, long-haired person walk over to your father and feel for his pulse. He sighed and looked back at you, slowly shaking his head.

“No, he can’t be, please…” The person behind you tightened their grip to stop you from going over to the dead body. They pulled you in their arms so that you wouldn’t have to see this anymore.

“Hey, you care for a dance?” The voice pulled you out of your thoughts. You look up at a handsome man. He is holding his hand out to you. You turn your head a bit to see Dean still flirting with the other women there, so you decide to fuck it. I mean, you are also allowed to have fun, right?

So you take his hand and let him lead you to the dance floor. At first, it is just normal dancing and rocking to the party music, but he gets closer and closer. His hands start to roam your body, and you do the same. You can feel his six-pack underneath the shirt, but it just reminds you of Dean. You try to get rid of that thought and start grinding against him.

He leans down to whisper in our ear. “You wanna get out of here?”

You turn around in his arms and look him in his eyes. “I would love to.”

He smirks and takes your hand to lead you off the dance floor and to the door of the bar.

Suddenly he is stopped by Dean.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” he has his arms crossed and is glaring daggers at your soon-to-be one-night-stand.

“Dean, calm down.” You try to get him to back off and just let you two go.

“Yeah, dude. Calm down and let me and the lady go.”

“And where do you think you’re gonna take her?”

“That’s none of your business.”

Dean huffs and just punches the guy.

“Dean!” You go and help the guy up.

“Let’s get you cleaned up.” You try to steer him towards the bathroom, but he pushes you away.

“No. Get the situation with your friend there settled first, and then think of touching me again.” And he storms off, out of the bar.

You turn to Dean. “Thanks, now you ruined my night. Was it worth it?”

“Y/N, I only wanted-”

“Yes, you only wanted to ruin my fun, right. Do you really think you’re the only one that’s allowed to have that? Well, then I’m off, see ya tomorrow and I really hope you find an explanation for your behaviour until then.” And you storm off, back to your motel room.

◈

Back in your room, you put on your most comfortable sweater and pants. After you get a beer out of your mini-fridge and settle on the couch. In the background, the TV is running, but you pay no mind to it, you just sit there and think of explanations for why Dean was acting that way.

A while later, there’s a knock on the door. The room is salted, and you have no motivation to get up, so you just stay sitting and hope whoever is there will just go away.

But they don’t and knock again. “I know you’re not asleep, so please let me in and explain myself.”

“Dean just piss off before i shoot you.”

“You don’t mean that.”

“You wanna test that theory?”

“No really. But please, sweetheart, open th-”

You storm to open the door and glare at him. “Stop! You lost the right to call me that the minute you decided to ruin my fun with the hot guy.”

“He couldn’t have been that important, otherwise you would at least know his name.”

“Yeah, right, says the right person. Do you always know the names of your hook-ups?

Dean sighs and runs a hand over his face. “Okay, let’s start over. Let me in and explain myself, and after you can still kick my ass out, ok?”

You think for a moment. Because you know how stubborn the Winchester can be, you sigh and let him in. “Fine, but if I say you should fuck off, you will immediately.”

He walks into the middle of the room, and you close the door again.

You cross your arms and look at him, ready to listen to his, in your opinion, made-up explanation.

“Okay… so, you see… I…” He sighs and looks at the floor.

“What do I see, Dean?!”

He is silent for a few more seconds before he suddenly starts talking. “I hate it when I see another guy flirting with you. I hate it when we are in a bar and I see all the guys looking at you. I hate it when one of them touches you. I hate it because I fucking love you!” He realizes what he said and turns away from you.

Your eyes widen and you walk over to him.

“Dean-”

“Yeah, I know you don’t like me the way I like you, no need-”

You shut him up by kissing him.

He wastes no time in kissing back and pulling you closer by grabbing your waist.

After some time, you need to stop to catch your breath.

You open your eyes that you didn’t even realise you closed.

“I love you too.”

[thelampisaflashlight]

I’m tired and bored, so y’all get some random and possibly [or rather most definitely] unhinged ghoul headcanons. Under the cut because I don’t know how long or how short this is gonna be. [Note: This is about the ghoul “characters” and not the performers, just so we’re clear on that front.]

-Aether-

1.) He’s the dude who walks around in his dress shirt with no pants, for as long as possible before an event. Talkin’ socks on, boxers free to the breeze kind of deal. He wants to be comfortable, like a dad on holiday wearing cargo shorts...

2.) He goes to the complimentary breakfasts at hotels to stock up on fruit and those little orange juice cartons, purely because he knows at least one person in the group is gonna get hangry because they didn’t wake up in time to eat. He also eats those tiny cereal packets as a snack.

3.) When it comes to packing for tour, he doesn’t put much in his travel bag aside from clean essentials, like socks and underwear, outer clothing be damned. He’s got, like, six t-shirts he actually wears and he only brought two.

4.) Keeps managing to let his tail flop over the edge of his bunk no matter what position he’s in, and yet is still surprised when he wakes up with things hanging off of it in the morning. Better than getting woken up by someone biting it because it got too close to their face though.

5.) Although he has been classified as the “dad” of the group, he is absolutely, 100% going to get into some mischief at some point that has everyone going, “Bro, wtf”. He’s the guy who goes missing ten minutes before you need to leave the hotel.

-Dewdrop-

1.) He’s the guy who has to buy a toothbrush at a convenience store in the middle of nowhere because he forgot, but not before he spends two days brushing his teeth with his finger because he doesn’t want to admit he didn’t remember to bring one.

2.) Not actually as feral off stage as on stage. Most of the time after a performance he either wants to party and have fun, but in the classic “having drinks by the hotel pool” or “playing around on the bus” kind of way, or he’s going to bed. When he’s tired, he’s tired, and, no, he doesn’t know where Aether went, that’s a tomorrow problem.

3.) Has been put in the pool noodles of shame for headbutting people with his horns. Could he just take them off? Yes. Is he going to? No, because fair is fair honestly. Also it’s funny.

4.) Has called “dibs” on a bed in a hotel multiple times, and has claimed said bed by becoming a starfish on top of it. This doesn’t always work, because tired ghouls are like cats and will just pile onto each other. He has been nearly crushed under many a pile of ghouls.

5.) The ghoul who is always two steps away when people think they lost him and/or someone calls his name. It’s not that he’s responsible enough to stick with the group, he’s just more aware of where the others are if he does wander off. That and he’s using Mountain as a landmark

-Mountain-

1.) Keeps smacking his head on low doorframes and not reacting to it. Just “bonk”, a pause, and then he carries on with his day. It makes everyone else feel unnerved.

2.) Copia keeps asking him to keep an eye on the other ghouls when they’re in a crowd, but he winds up getting turned around and gets lost himself, so he usually just tries to stay with a couple of folks and hope people come to him instead of him having to find them.

3.) Hangs his feet out of his bunk on the bus randomly, and has accidentally clotheslined someone with his arm when they were walking blindly to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It’s happened often enough that the others just put their hands out in front of them to feel around and make sure the area is clear.

4.) Keeps putting things on the top shelf and pushing things to the back of the cabinets, but not because he forgets most folks are shorter than him, no. He does this on purpose because watching the smaller ghouls have to climb on the counter is funny to him.

5.) Can and will buy the weirdest shirt he can find at a rest stop.

That’s all I have for now.

[hornime]

home workout | bokuto koutarou x gn!reader

“i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

warnings: 18+, sub!bokuto, jealous!reader (i mean who wouldn’t be when bokuto, your goddamn boyfriend, is perceived by other people the fuck), also lowkey possessive!reader, lotsa licking and sucking, nipple play, some praise (from reader) and some begging, brief mention of dacryphilia, kinda soft at the end

w/c: 1.5k sheesh

a/n: bokuto brainrot has me in literal tears. him being completely clueless to people flirting w him cus he doesn’t recognize romance from anyone but you has me so soft. i luv this man w my whole heart !!!!! ALSO THANKS FOR ALL THE LOVE ON THE BAKUGO FIC I JUST ABOUT SHIT MY PANTS WOOWWOWO

you weren’t an idiot. you knew that your boyfriend was attractive in literally every aspect of the word. he was sweet, patient, and kind, and what he lacked in academic smarts was made up tenfold in his emotional maturity and ability to read people. big and beefy, bokuto was all yours and all you wanted to stay trapped within his arms forever. unfortunately, to maintain the figure you adored so much and stay in shape for the volleyball season, he had to leave the four walls of your shared bedroom far more than you liked, having a daily obligation to spend a few hours at the gym.

once again, you weren’t an idiot. the few times that your work schedule and his training schedule aligned, you’d been able to work out together. and despite your knowledge of just how good-looking bokuto was and the fact that other people could perceive him (much to your chagrin) you were shocked at just how much people shamelessly flirted with him. 

cute girls with matching leggings and sports bras practically clung to his biceps, gushing about how strong he was and how he could probably pick them up with just one hand. their incessant giggling, mesmerizing hair twirling, and teasing touches pissed you off to no end, and you’d tug your boyfriend away before their breasts got too close to him for your liking.

something else you noticed was that, no matter how blatantly obvious the girls seemed to be, the guys were somehow worse, flirting through terms you couldn’t even understand. they compared deadlift weights, bicep curls, hip thrusts; you gritted your teeth thinking about whether they’d ever compared cock sizes in the locker room—you wouldn’t put it past those thirsty gym rats. sneaky bastards.

and bokuto, of course, was oblivious to it all. how could you blame him—he was so used to being adored! you knew that, to him, all of their praises paled in comparison to yours, but you couldn’t help but feel jealous. he was all yours—should be all yours—and you hated sharing him with the world.

you woke up saturday morning with a ringing in your ears, hand smacking the nightstand trying to turn off that god-awful alarm noise, bleary eyes barely able to focus on the text notification from your boyfriend.

[5:33 AM] kou: gm babe!!!! i didnt wanna wake u up cus u looked so peaceful! im heading to the gym rn. text me when ur up! love uu

[5:34 AM] kou: should be home around 9!! gym bud wants to show me something so i might be a little late for breakfast.

just to reiterate, you weren’t an idiot. for all the annoying flirting you noticed when you were with bokuto, there was no doubt in your mind that there must be a lot more when he was at the gym alone, which, unluckily for you, was most of the time since he was a freakin’ pro athlete and all.

you couldn’t prevent the pool of envy from swirling in your gut. gym bud? are you serious? who could that be? the girl with the arm tat or the dude with the dreads? no, maybe its that yoga instructor with the ass—

you shook your head, clearing your brain. you’d be here for hours if you went through everyone at that stupid gym that had ever shown interest in bokuto. the clock read 9:53 AM and the green flame in your body only burned brighter. just as you were about to call him and ask where he was, the front door slammed open.

“babe! i’m home!”

you silently put your phone down, teeth still clenching in jealousy. for some reason, hearing his voice only exacerbated the tension in your shoulders. you needed him. now.

“babe?” his voice creeped closer as he tread through the hallway towards the room. “you up?”

you peeked your head out of the doorframe, cheery voice masking your devilish intentions, “kou!"

his eyes brightened as he made eye contact with you and flashed his trademark smile. “hey! what’s u-” he took in the mischievous glint in your eyes “-p?”

you grabbed his burly forearm, yanking him behind you and walking towards him, forcing him to stumble and fall back on the bed. “wait! i’m all gross and sweaty,” he said, “gym showers were broke-”

“i don’t care. take off your shirt.”

“wow, someone’s eager. missed me that much?”

“watch it,” you glared. “i’m not in the mood, kou.”

he gulped at the dominance radiating from your voice, scrambling to take off the t-shirt that stretched between his pecs perfectly. with the fabric off and throw haphazardly to the side, he looked to you expectantly, the epitome of innocence.

your eyes wandered over his sculpted chest, the remnants of a soft sheen of sweat from his workout making it shine in the sunlight pouring through the blinds. your heart stuttered in your chest—he looked like an angel. coupled with the way with his bottom lip was tucked under his front teeth and the wide, anticipating look in his eyes, fuck. you almost smiled how blessed you felt in that moment, to see him in such a raw, alluring position, before a jarring thought caused your lips to twitch back into a frown.

everyone else can see him, too.

your eyes hardened. maybe they can see him all big and strong, you thought, but they’ll never get to see him like this: submissive.

and so fucking sensitive.

within an instant, your lips were latched on the soft spot above his collarbone, causing him to whimper in pleasure. you continued to travel along his throat, slowly working your way to the other side of his neck and crossing back to nibble at his adam’s apple.

you unexpectedly pulled away, drawing a short whine from him, before repositioning yourself so that you were straddling his outstretched legs. slowly, starting from the hem of his shorts, you dragged your tongue between the ridges of his abs, moving up towards his pecs, tasting the saltiness of his sweat and feeling the muscles tense underneath.

“fuck,” he groaned. as your lips puckered around one of his peaked nipples, he uncontrollably jerked his hips up, inadvertently rubbing his sensitive cock between your legs. overwhelmed by the sensation, he moaned. “fuck.”

“you taste good,” you muttered, grazing your teeth over his other nipple. “just wanna taste you all the time. you’d let me, right?”

thoughts muddled by just how good everything felt, he nodded mindlessly. “i’d let you do- do anything. anything you wan’ to me. i’m yours. all- all,” his voice raised a few octaves as the inside of your thighs brushed past his cockhead, “yours. all yours.”

you paused. raising your head from his chest, you made eye contact with him, so intense he almost closed his eyes to shield himself from the blaze burning in your dilated pupils. “why’d you stop,” he begged, “i want more. feels so good and i wan’ mor-”

“say it again,” you demanded. “tell me that you’re mine.”

his eyes, glossed over and prickled with tears precariously close to falling, squeezed tightly as he spoke, unable to control the growing volume of his voice. “’m all yours. always. all yo- yours.” he gasped as you resumed your movements, pinching the sensitive skin around his v-line while fervently leaving sloppy kisses on his chest. 

“good boy.”

he keened at your praise. another light touch to his cock combined with the passage of your mouth had him trembling, and his breath hitched as he cried out in warning, tears now flowing freely over his flushed cheeks. “m’ gonna cum, ‘m gonna, gonna cum.”

“yeah?” you whispered, lips brushing against his strained abs. “go ahead then.”

“fuck!” he whined, blabbering as you sat back and watched in awe of the beauty before you, a big strong man like him reduced to nothing more than a moaning mess. “fuck, fuck—you always make me feel so, s-so go-od, fuck i love you.”

with soaked shorts and an exhausted sigh, he dropped his head back onto the plush comforter of the bed. you flattened your palms on his quivering body, reeling from the aftershocks of his orgasm. he panted, running his fingers through your hair before nudging your face to look at him, staring at you with an expression of pure bliss and adoration. he studied you for a bit before declaring with a soft smile, “you’re the best. so fuckin’ happy that i’m yours.”

driven by affection, he sat up and reached his arms around your waist, snuggling his chin over your shoulder and mashing your chests, yours clothed and his naked, together. “kou wait!” you shrieked. “you’re all sweaty again! it’s gross!”

he chuckled. as if you hadn’t been spoiling him by licking it up just a few minutes ago. “you’re right. i‘m probably sweating more now than i was after my workout.”

at that, your ears perked up. “well maybe you should do home workouts more often then,” you teased.

“you’re right,” he repeated with a grin, “maybe i should.” if it meant more mornings like these, he’d forego the gym in a heartbeat. 

that night, he canceled his gym membership. after all, he reasoned, it’s offseason anyway.

© property of hornime 2021. do not plagiarize any of my writing and do not repost/copy my writing onto any other sites.

[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.

[roxannex90]

That Feeling (Leila Ouahabi X Reader)

Hey guys I’m a little busy right now so I haven’t had time to check over this imagine to see if there’s any mistakes I made but I’ll check tomorrow.

-Thanks,

Roxanne :)

Music blasting, on the floor dancing with a random woman you just met five minutes ago “come here! Quick!” Leila grabs you away from the woman. “Leila what the fuck” you say still being pulled from her. “I need you to just go with it” she said before getting to the bar. “This is her! You know Latinas they love to dance!” She gives you a kiss and you smile at the couple standing in front you. “Sorry it’s not gonna workout but I hope you guys find someone tonight.” She denied the couple and they left. “Let me guess? You couldn’t say no to them so you pulled me in to say you’re taken?” You asked her. “They wouldn’t leave me alone so I had to pull you in” she said. “I was dancing with someone!” Annoyed, she ruined it. “Dude she wasn’t even that good at dancing and I’m pretty sure she was straight so you’re welcome.” She takes a sip from her drink. “Well I still want to dance” you said leaning against the bar. “Then let’s dance” Leila sets her drink down then grabs your hand taking you to the dance floor.

7 o’clock in the morning your alarm clock goes off. Your eyes open seeing Leila's eyes closed. With her asleep you notice your legs are intertwined and her arms wrapped around your neck. That was normal for you two. Your friendship with her was very close. You did everything together even sometimes would shower together with no problem. Your teammates/ friends would joke around and say you’re a couple because you even kiss each other whenever. Leila wakes up when she feels you leaving the bed. “Get up we have practice in an hour” you say to Leila who lays her head back down into your pillows. “I’ll wanna stay in bed forever” she says, stretching. Lying your body weight on her with full force she squirms trying to get up. “Ok I’ll get up” she laughs. During practice you’re telling your teammates what happened last night “Was she hot though?” Jenni asked you about the straight woman. “She wasn’t hot at all” Leila cuts in the conversation. “She was totally into me” you say to them. Jenni and Mapi laugh. Leila laughs as she’s about to walk away. You slap her butt when she turns around “you need to hit harder if you want to get me going” she winks. You grab her arms “yeah? Harder?” You said seductively rubbing your nose on hers. “Don’t start something you can’t finish” she said with dominance. Asserting your dominance making her step back a little with your foreheads now touching you say “Oh I can finish” Jenni and Mapi look uncomfortable with there being clearly sexual attention between you two. You laugh walking away to continue on with practice.

The next day it’s an off day with no training and no game today. Leila is over at your house swimming with you. She sits on the edge of the pool with her legs still in the water. Talking about dates in the past “so how would you make the first move?” You asked Leila. “Like for example right now I would stare them into the eyes” she stares into your eyes. “Shoot them a seductive look with a smile and put my legs on them” she does so. “And then bring them in closer so I can kiss them” she brings your face close inbetween her legs pulling you chin upwards brings her face down to yours and kisses you. “I can see how that works” you laugh feeling very different about Leila. “What about you?” She asks with silence following. With her legs still on your shoulders you lay a kiss on the inside of her thigh “that, then” you give another kiss further on her thigh “and then” you lay another kiss on her bikini line below her stomach then on her abs. “I would do all of that” she looks lost in your eyes not saying a thing. Without words you knew what she was thinking. Pulling her into the pool kissing her, messing with her bikini strings, you pull her top off. Her breathing is uneasy when you kiss her neck. Enjoying it she lets you push her against the pool wall. She spreads her legs and grabs your hand to where she wants you to go. Rubbing her clit with your index and middle finger she moans into your mouth. You pump your middle and ring finger in and out of her while your thumb rubs her clit. With her moaning out loud you place your left hand over her mouth muffling her moans so your neighbors won’t hear. She leans her head back with her neck forming red. Getting out of the pool she grabs you into her arms and lays down on the poolside long reclining chair. With you on top with your back against hers she moves the side of your bikini bottom rubbing your clit at fast pace. You lose control of your body as your hips shutter when you cum. Once finished outside the two of you go inside your house to continue the fun. It was the morning when she woke you for practice. On the drive there she grabbed your hand and kissed it. “I love you” she said. “I love you too” you say while driving. “How do we explain to everyone we’re a couple?” She asked you. You chuckle “We don’t even have to tell them. They’ll know. Trust me.”

[hangovercurse]

Nothing

Part i of the Without You series: When Colson and Megan break up, the boys count on Y/N to piece Colson back together, which only leads to disaster.

Colson x Reader

Warnings: Colson being kind of a dick, cursing, a little bit of aggression/ violence. This one’s definitely angsty.

A/N: This was supposed to be just a one part fic. Then that turned into 2 parts. And then 3. And then all of a sudden I had written 5 parts and over 10,000 words. Enjoy 😊 (also this is v unedited so if you see a mistake... mind ya business)

Word Count: 2084

| ii | iii | iv | v | vi |

masterlist

When you got the text from Rook, you knew it was probably gonna be bad. 

Megan just left him, for good. Not gonna be pretty the next few days so maybe don’t come by anytime soon. 

Your heart broke for your best friend. Colson had been really in love with Megan. And as much as you hated seeing them together for your own personal reasons, you could tell he was really happy. 

Ok. Let me know if you guys need me. If it gets bad I can take Casie for a few days. Take care of him for me pls. 

You and Colson had been friends for years now. You knew almost everything about each other, you told him everything. He let you crash at his place after your ex kicked you out, and you had spent many hours curled up with him, watching stupid movies to distract him from his most recent breakup or mental breakdown. 

But this was different. Colson told you he wanted to marry her at some point, and you knew he wasn’t lying. And you couldn’t blame him. As much as you hated no longer being the only women (other than Casie) in his life, you couldn’t dislike Megan. She was just one of those people who everyone loved. 

The thought of texting Colson crossed your mind, but you weren’t sure if it would hurt or help. From the sound of it, he was a wreck.

So, naturally, you texted Pete. 

Have you talked to Cols yet?

With Colson came Pete, or came you, you weren’t really sure. Somewhere along the way you and Pete had become close friends. He was like the older brother you’d never asked for, and he would probably say something similar about you. 

You couldn’t really explain it, Pete could read you like a book. And because of that, he knew everything. He was the only one to catch on to the way you sometimes looked at Colson for too long, or got irritated when he’d bring a new girl around. 

I’m heading over there right now. You should talk to him.

You rolled your eyes.

Not sure that’s the best idea. You guys are better at handling... all that. Once he gets a little less angry then I’ll take him. 

Pete texted you back a few minutes later.

Thanks for the support, kid. I’ll keep you updated. Just pulled in.

Good luck, Petey.

You tossed your phone on your bed, a sigh leaving your lips. You decided worrying was a problem for another day.

No more than 12 hours later you were getting a phone call from Rook. 

“Dude it’s like 4 in the morning, why are you calling me.” 

“Y/N, we’ve tried everything. He’s locked up in his room and every time one of us tries to talk to him he blows up. Literally he almost punched Slim a few hours ago.”

You pinched the bridge of your nose, groaning at the predicament. “So now you want me to come over?” You asked, “What do you think I’m gonna be able to do?”

“Well he’s not gonna try and hit you for one. I don’t know if you’ve noticed but he’s significantly nicer to you than to anyone else.”

“What do I even say to him? “Sorry that the love of your life broke up with you but at least we can smoke pot and watch Spongebob?” I mean come on, man. I’m not good at this.”

“Please.” He pleaded, “We’re all out of options and I can’t stand to see him get any worse than he is.”

You moved off your bed and towards your dresser. “Fine, I’ll be there in 15.” 

You threw on the first pair of sweatpants you could find and slipped on shoes, grabbing your key and heading out the door.

True to your word, you pulled up to the house 15 minutes later, parking on the side of the street and heading straight into the house. When the guys saw you, they visibly brightened up. 

“You guys are such fucking wimps.” You rolled your eyes as you made your way towards the stairs. 

Baze chuckled, “We love you Y/N.”

You rolled your eyes and continued on your way, stopping by Casie’s room to see if she was asleep. To your surprise, she wasn’t. 

“Hey sweet girl,” you whispered as you entered her room, “why are you still up?”

She smiled a little when she saw you. “Couldn’t sleep. I’m really worried about Dad.” 

You leaned on her doorframe, sending her a sad smile. “I am too. But he’ll be okay. Your dad’s pretty tough.”

“I know,” she sighed, “but he really liked Megan.”

“Did you?” You ask, trying to gauge her emotions. 

“I mean, I guess so. She was nice to me. Most of his girlfriends aren’t that nice to me.” 

“That’s a pretty shitty way to measure if you like someone or not.” She giggles at that. “Don’t tell your dad I said that word in front of you.”

“Ok. She was nice. And she made him happy so, yeah, I guess I liked her. Not as much as I like you but...” Casie’s voice got higher as she dragged out the last word and you just rolled your eyes with a chuckle. 

Casie had this fantasy of you and Colson getting married one day, but you always told her it would never happen. 

“Ok kiddo, whatever you say.” You teased her, “try and get some sleep, okay?” 

She nodded with a smile. “Are you gonna go talk to Dad?”

“Yeah. I’ll talk to you later, okay? If you need to come over and talk or stay the night or anything just call me, okay?”

“Okay. Love you.” She said quietly. 

“Love you too, Case.”

You shut the door to her room, moving down the hallway to Colson’s door. You took a deep breath, trying to mentally prepare for what was about to happen, and knocked. 

“I told you guys to go the fuck away.” A muffled yet angry voice said from the opposite side of the door.

“It’s me, Cols. Y/N.” You said, hoping he could hear you. 

When you got no response you asked, “Can I come in?” 

A few more seconds of silence followed, and then the lock clicked and the door opened. You stood face-to-face with your best friend. His hair was a mess, falling in his face. The bags under his eyes were darker than ever, and the frown he wore made him look even more pathetic. You felt your heart breaking. 

As you met his eyes, you gave him a sad smile. “Hey Cols.” 

Instead of responding, he wrapped his arms around you, leaning down and resting his head on your shoulder. You reached up and ran your fingers through his hair. 

He started walking backwards, pulling you with him as he continued to hug you. One of his hands pushed the door shut and he sat on his bed, finally letting go of you. 

You looked down at him, grabbing his hand and holding it in your own. It was something you had done before, you two were very touchy people and so half of your friendship was just you two cuddling or play fighting or holding hands.

“So we can do one of three things,” you started, “We can talk about it, we can cuddle and watch something stupid and pretend nothing’s wrong, or we can get high and do something stupid.”

For the first time in what you would imagine to be all night, Colson smiled. it was a very small smile, but you took it. 

He looked up at you through his eyelashes. “And by stupid you mean...”

You rolled your eyes, “I mean we can go set off bottle rockets in the backyard or try to jump off your roof and into the pool.” 

“Oh damn. I was hoping you were gonna say you would suck my dick.” 

Your eyes widened at his bluntness and the implication. You shoved his shoulder, “Colson! That’s gross!” You giggled, but his expression was unwaveringly serious. 

“I’m being serious.” He deadpanned and you furrowed your eyebrows. 

“Colson what the fuck?” Your mind was spinning trying to figure out if he was joking. 

You got your answer when he stood up, grabbing your waist and leaning over you. “I thought you’d want to...” 

You took in a breath at the sudden proximity, trying to back away from him but his grip remaining firmly on your waist. “Colson, stop. Please. This isn’t funny.” 

You could smell the alcohol on his breath and you had to keep reminding yourself of that fact. He’s drunk, and sad, and doesn’t know what he’s saying. 

“I thought you’d want to, cause it’ll make me happy. And you’ll do anything to make me happy.” One of his hands reached up and grabbed your jaw, making sure you couldn’t look away.

“Colson you’re being a fucking weirdo, let me go.” You raised your voice. Your heart was racing at this point and the thoughts flowing around your head were not pretty. 

You were always anxious for the day he’d figure you out. When he’d finally realize how you felt for him. But this was worse than anything you’d thought of. 

“You’ll do anything to make me happy because you love me, right?” 

You felt tears stinging in your eyes, wanting nothing more but to look away from his sinister expression. The way he was looking at you made it very clear that he was enjoying your discomfort, your embarrassment. 

“Colso-” 

He walked forwards, pushing you gently against the wall. His arms went to either side of you, his face inches from yours. You tried to look away, but his hand on your jaw forced you to face him.

Any other time you would have loved for Colson to pin you against his wall, but this was wrong. 

“Just say it. Say you’re in love with me, and I’ll drop it.” 

“Colson, what the fuck are you on right now?” You tried to steer the topic away from you, but he wouldn’t have it. 

“Say it.” 

You reached up to try and push his chest away from you, but he was much taller and stronger than you, so you did nothing. 

“Just tell me!” He yelled at your silence. A tear slipped down your cheek as you trembled under him. His face was red and his eyes were watering. 

 “Why are you doing this?” You whispered. This all felt like a bad dream, like a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from. 

“Because I need to know if she was right.” His voice got a little quieter, but he still wouldn’t move away from you. “I need to know if the reason the love of my fucking life just left me is true.”

You were shaking, your breaths getting shorter. “What are you talking about.” Your words were choked. The grip on your jaw started to get a little too tight.

“I defended you!” He yelled, tears falling from his face. “She told me that you were in love with me and I defended you.”

“Colson you’re hurting me.” You whined, trying to wriggle your way out of his grasp. He ignored your statement and continued talking, but his grip loosened slightly.

“And then she told me that she thinks I’m in love with you.” His voice was getting darker. “And that’s why she left. So I want to make it very clear to you.” He paused, leaning closer to your ear. “I will never love you. Ever. Not now, not in a million lifetimes. You mean nothing to me.”

Your vision was blurry from your tears, so you blindly reached out to push him away from you. His body seemed to have given up, as he moved backwards out of your way, stumbling slightly. Through your tears you could make out a smug smile on the man before you ran out of the room, slamming the door behind you.

You ran down the stairs, the guys waiting for you to give them good news, but their hope turned to concern once they saw you. You walked straight past them towards the door, not trusting yourself to say anything without breaking completely.

As you reached for the door handle you heard a faint yell from upstairs, followed by loud banging, and then silence. You sniffled, turning the handle and leaving the house, much to the protest of your friends.

[bitchassbucky]

.zip

Word Count: 2k

Warning/s: toxic/abusive relationship dynamics, gaslighting and manipulation, abduction, injuries were mentioned, stalking, dark!bucky x dark!reader, emotionally/mentally unstable!reader, dismemberment (not gore-y but still), three very special character mentions, shady corporate stuff, career sabotage?, food mention, sedation/drugging, f-words.

A/N: oh my god, this is the final chapter of CTRL. to all who read from the start, thank y'all so fucking much - from the bottom of my big-ass heart, thank you so much for coming along with this journey. this is my first FINISHED series, oh my god. to @babyboibucky (CTRL's number one fan), @sarge-barnes-sir, and @borikenlove thank you so much for indulging my inner degenerate GHJSDFG and for screaming (affectionately) at me when i first let y'all read the finished draft.

BUT THIS IS NOT THE END (just yet), i will be uploading TWO epilogues very soon: the explicit version and the not-so-explicit version. stay tuned!

follow the CTRL series:

i - .exe

ii - .avi

iii - .raw

iv - .png

v - .zip

epilogue:

.eps (explicit)

.eps (cut)

CTRL playlist CTRL moodboard

Your demeanor, character, even tone, changed.

Calculated, cold, unnerving.

But you sat there like a housewife in front of her husband, eating spaghetti and meatballs. Acting all dandy like there isn’t a man strapped onto the chair four feet away from you.

“C’mon, darling, eat! I made your favorite,” your eyes twinkled as Bucky helplessly tugged on his restraints, “oh, sorry, you’re tied up.”

Hm, sick in the head, bad for the heart.

“What do you want?” Oh, wow, even talking hurts for him. His throat is all dried up, he tasted something bitter under his tongue.

You chuckled, moving half a meatball around your mostly empty plate, “for you to stop treating me like I’m stupid.” You spear the meat with your fork, swirling it in the sauce, “I know you’ve been… checking in on me, Bucky.”

Oh, fuck.

“Look, I’m sorry, okay? I was-- I mean, look at you--” He’s making it worse. You’re mad. You’re angry because he was being a good friend.

He only did that because you were lonely and he’s right: you are lonely.

So lonely that you’re willing to kidnap a grown man to keep you company, “I’m so sad for you.”

“You’re aware you’re the one’s been tied up, right?” You’re curt as you should be, scooting over near Bucky to feed him.

“I can’t eat that—” If he wasn’t sitting down and tied, Bucky would’ve vaulted over you and called the neighbors, she’s fucking crazy!

You giggled, rolling your eyes as if he had the freedom to make a choice right now, “if you’re thinking of screaming… More than half of my neighbors are felons or on parole, I doubt that they’ll call 911.”

Jutting forward the fork, you let the prongs gently touch Bucky’s lips, “now, eat! We have so much to talk about.”

“No. I don’t-- I’m not hungry.” He shakes his head, the fork hitting his chin and clanking down the floor.

“Just eat the fucking food, Steve!”

Bucky flinched at your sudden outburst. The words—the name—seeping in a moment later. Steve? Who the hell is Steve? Was he your husband? Boyfriend? His head throbbed again, his mouth filling with saliva like he’s about to throw up.

You kneel down, pulling a napkin from the table to wipe the meat and the sauce from the floor.

“This better not stain.”

—

He promised thrice.

Once over pasta and meatballs, once over dessert, and once when you were clearing the table.

You relented, of course. Half because you love him and half because it’s getting annoying.

“As long as you don’t leave me, okay?”

“Yes, I promise. I won’t leave you.”

Bucky’s still seating on the dinner chair, slightly slumped without the ropes holding him up, “look, I’m really sorry about the anesthetic, I went overboard with it.” You look over to him—at least he’s regaining his fingers and arms again.

“It’s okay, babe, I wouldn’t trust me either.” If he could stand up, he’d go over and hug you. Helping with the dishes, peppering you with sweet kisses.

A genuine laugh slips out of your lips, “ugh, still… I’m really sorry.”

The last of the plates were neatly stacked, cups and cutleries were placed gently on a drying rack. It was getting late, you could tell.

“I’m not mad, by the way.” You muse, prompting Bucky to lean forward, listening to you.

“What do you mean?” He takes your hand into his, ever so gently.

“You did that,” you squeeze his hand back, gazing into his soulful eyes, “because you love me.”

Did you know that some people could read microexpressions well? Bucky went through a whole lot of them before answering, “of course, I do.”

Contemplating whether you call him out on it or not, you hum, placing a gentle hand on his jaw, “it’s okay, you’ll learn how to love me.”

He has to. He has no other choice.

Bucky clears his throat, “have you seen my phone?” His tone was hopeful, upbeat, maybe he can reach out to someone, anyone, before you can do any more damage.

“Yeah, ‘s on the couch.”

He tried to move, he really did. Bucky’s fairly strong, he can bench an easy 140 on a good day. But even the beefiest motherfuckers have no match for Propofol.

“Don’t worry about your friends, they’re not worried about you, Buck.” The coolness of your tone sends Bucky into a panic—again. “D’you wanna check your messages though? There’s a lot of ‘em.”

Grabbing his phone, you asked Siri to read him his latest notifications.

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

From Joaquin: Where are you, man?

From John W.: Do you have copies?

Urgent: Notice of Immediate Termination

Urgent: Gross Misconduct

From Joaquin: Bucky, what the fuck?

From Samuel Wilson: Pick up the phone, Barnes. You’re fired.

17 missed calls from an unknown number

From John W.: I knew you were a freak but holy shit, dude!

72 text messages from an unknown number

Bucky never really liked horror movies. It made him jumpy and anxious. Too paranoid, even. But now? Now he’s sure that people have never experienced sheer fright before.

His toes cramped inside his boots, his feet were cold, sweating. The little hairs on his legs stood up, goosebumps littering the entirety of his body. If he held his breath, he’s sure he could hear his heart hammering out of his chest. The blood rushes past his ears and onto the base of his skull—he’s gonna be sick.

“What,” he gulped back the saliva pooling in his mouth, “what did you do?”

You’re irritatingly calm, “well, I mean… We’re already together, what do you need those for, right?”

Putting a warm hand over his forehead, you cooed, “poor thing, you look sick.”

—

Bucky thinks it’s well past midnight when the anesthetic wore off.

His limbs were heavy, he had to lean on the wall every couple of steps to regain his balance. Helpless. He’s helpless and you both know it. As if it’s a bear trap, Bucky carefully took his phone from the coffee table.

Why would you leave it unattended?

The screen lights up as soon as he picked up, his lock screen littered with ‘fuck yous’, ‘sicko’, and his personal favorite, ‘motherfucker.’

Ignoring the glaring messages, he went straight for the emergency dialler and—you took out his SIM card, snapping it into two neat pieces, placing it beside the phone.

Bitch.

The golden surface of the card was scratched too, he can’t do anything, use it as a toothpick, maybe? His phone was just as good as a paperweight.

He looks out of the window, limping towards it. Even if he could climb over, it would take him forever to get onto the street. Your neighbors would probably think that he’s just on a bad trip.

“It’s bolted shut. Perks of living alone as a single female.” Your voice made him flinch back, like a kid whose hand was halfway down the cookie jar.

Bucky plays it off with a cough, he can’t be weak now, “no, babe, I was checking out a noise. You ready for bed?”

You smiled softly, taking his hand and draping his arm on your shoulders as you prop him against you, “almost, big guy. Gotta get you settled in bed first. Are you tired?”

Nodding, Bucky kisses your temple, “yeah.” He just needs to play with your sick little games until he regains his strength.

Where would he go? His reputation and his job are besmirched, his apartment is probably crawling with forensics too.

“You fell down and banged your head earlier. Nasty cut on your head too. I told you to not tire yourself much.”

You hit and drugged me but I digress, “Yes, darling. ‘M sorry.”

“You scared me, Buck. I thought you were dead.” Are these tears forming in your eyes?

“I’m not leaving you, not by any chance. I promise.”

He promises a fourth time.

—

Your bedroom was bigger than he thought. But of course, he only saw your desk and your bed through the webcam.

Save from the Ted Bundy-esque corkboard you have in front of your workspace, he feels weirdly at home. You tucked him in, reminding him to wake up every two hours for the painkillers.

“You’re not going to bed?” He muses from behind you, all cocooned in your blankets.

“Just need to take this phone call real quick, babe.” Your back was turned from him as you work on your company laptop. He noticed that the webcam is covered with white tape.

The sound of an incoming call filled the room before you quickly answer it, your voice turning hoarse and raspy as if you’ve been crying.

Hi, Mr. Wilson. I’m so sorry for the late call. Do I- do I need to come in tomorrow? I just... I don’t feel comfortable facing everyone—I used all my home hours this week and—

Miss L/N, I’m glad you reached out to me. Is it okay if I record this call for security purposes? It’s just for you, me, and the HR department.

You turned to Bucky, your face is stone-cold but your voice belonged to someone so utterly helpless.

No, you don’t have to call into work tomorrow… Or any other day.

A dainty gasp and a fucking sob comes out of your mouth, your eyes were telling a different story.

Am I fired?

God, no. Please, Miss L/N, don’t worry about that. We want you with us through this entire debacle. We want you to take some time off—paid. We’ll also grant you… a grievance package.

You could almost hear what he would say next.

As long as you don’t talk to any members of the press or any journalists until our friends in the PR department can clean this up.

A triumphant smile creeps on your bare features, putting a finger in front of your lips, you mimic a ‘shh’ gesture to Bucky.

You round up another mirthless sob as the CEO drones on about the bureaucracy of this whole thing.

He was really nice to me, you know? He took me out on dinners and lunches. He even brought me to his place and I– nothing happened but I can’t stop thinking about it.

I’m really sorry, Miss L/N. I thought he was…

A good guy? I really thought so too.

Please stay offline for a bit, just for the weekend, alright? Someone from the HR department will be in touch with you for the process. We don’t wanna be a hassle more than what Barnes is. On our behalf, please accept our deepest apologies.

Jesus, this guy had the PR department cook up an apology letter.

Thank you—thank you so much, Mr. Wilson. I’ll keep in touch.

You burst out in laughter a second after the call ended. Hearty laughter, the one where you can feel your belly tightening.

“Did you hear how good I was, baby? Oh my god, we had them fooled.”

We? Fuck your ‘we.’

You slide over the covers, propping up yourself with your elbow as you turn to face Bucky, “don’t worry, you don’t need them anymore. You have me, yeah? We have each other.”

—

Out of the most bizarre things that happened to him last week, finding dismembered fingers in the fridge was the least of his concerns.

“Honey!” Bucky calls out, holding the ziplock bag with a pair of tongs.

You bound down the stairs, your laptop in hand as you squint, “what am I looking at?”

Bucky hesitated, maybe he’s going insane too, “fingers. Dismembered fingers—are these yours?”

Setting down the laptop onto the table, you peck him on the cheek, smiling as if him holding a baggie with human remains is just your Sunday normal, “god, I hope not. I need my hands to do things.”

As soon as you look back at him, you dropped the facade: “those are Steve’s. Well, used to be.”

Bucky’s afraid to ask the question where’s the rest of him?

“You know the term pinky promise, right? Well, it has a dark origin.”

Just as fast as a bustling train, Bucky rakes his brain for all the times he promised you something. Hoping that he won’t end up with a stump for a hand.

One vividly bright memory is seared into his brain though, the days blurred together with sharp edges and mismatched colors: we love how we were taught to love.

So, who taught you how to love like this?

[dubersbutt]

4 Times Leon Joined You and Connor

+ 1 Time He Stayed

Summary: How you, Leon and Connor became a thing

Warnings: smut (oral (female receiving, male receiving, penetrative sex), mlm sex (blowjobs)), sexuality crises (sexuality procrastination)

1) The “Accidents”

Leon gets your text message a second too late. The notification with your name and “DON'T OPEN MY SNAP” hanging above the picture of your scantily clad torso, matching royal purple set, the deep colour complimenting your tan skin. Leon is torn between wanting to be respectful and wanting to keep the picture open until he can get himself off. But, he’s a good dude so he does not do the latter. Instead, he closes the snap and texts you back

Leon: Whoops. I didn’t get your message until after I opened it

You: Ugh. I’m sorry, your name is right under Connor’s and my finger slipped.

Leon: Aren’t you supposed to be at school.

You: Stats are boring. I was trying to bother my boyfriend.

Leon: Pay attention in class, (Y/N).

You: 🙄

You: You can keep the picture btw. I know I look good

You: No face, no case

Leon doesn’t keep it but, his finger hovers over the replay button for far too long.

~~~

Leon’s furnace craps out on him halfway into the season, and Alberta winters without heaters isn’t very enjoyable so he temporarily moves in with Connor, the day of the charity gala. Leon has a good time for the most part. Except -

He can’t get that fucking picture out of his head. And your dress hugs you in all the right places and he really hopes that neither you or Connor notice that how often he looks over at you. Connor has to rub elbows with the rich donor more than Leon does, so he keeps you company in between rounds. The two of you keep yourselves entertained by comping up with potential conversations for the other people in the room.

“Leon wait,” you say, clutching his arm and Leon feels his heart skip a beat, “That girl is his daughter, not his sugar baby.”

“No,” Leon was convinced, they were sitting way too close if that were true, “How do you know?”

You point to an older lady that’s approaching the table. She leans down to give the man a quick kiss and Leon’s about to propose a potential mistress until he realizes the girl looks like a younger version of the older woman.

“Shit,” he says and you look at him with wide eyes, “We’re going to hell.”

“We totally deserve it too.”

An hour later, Leon is excusing himself from a conversation with Klefbom and an older lady. She hardly notices, her attention has been focused on Oscar the whole time. Oscar tries to get him to stay but Leon thinks her not-so-subtle flirtation is hilarious.

He laughs when he gets the “I’m gonna fucking kill you” text from Oscar on the way to the bathroom.

Leon: I don’t like being the third wheel

Leon: Make sure she’s not married, klef. You’d be a terrible mistress

Oscar: I would be the best mistress in the history of mistresses.

When Leon opens the door to the bathroom he’s met with the sound of moans. He supposes he should have shut the door right then and there but he opens it all the way without realizing. He’s met with the sight of Connor fucking you on the sink. Your nails are digging into his back as Connor fucks you. He’s frozen for a moment, can’t remember how to move his limbs until you meet his eyes. He’s fairly certain you smile at him but he’s also convinced he imagined it. He replays your moans and tiny whimpers in his head.

He’s not even surprised when he wakes up the next morning and the girl next to him looks a little like you when he squints.

~~~

A week later he’s coming home from a run, the weather had warmed up enough for a short 15 minute jog before he had to pack for the California road trip. He lets himself in through Connor’s garage door, taking off his snowy boots in the mudroom. He takes his earbuds out, pocketing them when he hears -

“I - fuck, don’t tease me.”

Not again.

Now, Leon is kind of annoyed. He texted Connor that he was on his way home, had given him ample time to move to his bedroom. And Leon has to pass the living room to get to the guest room.

“You’re such a brat,” he hears Connor say and the next thing that comes out of his mouth is a loud groan.

Leon has to start packing, they need to be at the airport in an hour. He tries to make his appearance quick and minimal but he meets Connor’s eyes. He mouths, sorry as he picks up the pace, but Connor doesn’t seem to mind. His face is flushed, and his chest is rising and falling quickly. Connor winks at him. Winks.

When he finally makes it to his room he slumps against the walk, leaving the door open a crack so he can hear Connor’s moans. He can’t help it anymore, he pulls the waistband of his pants down, gripping his dick. He has to bite down on his hand to keep his moans at bay. He cums in unison with Connor, using his moans to guide him to finish.

He stands there for a moment, hands sticky with cum listening to Connor praise you through the crack in the door.

~~~

Leon doesn’t make a habit of picking up men during the season. You can never know who's secretly a hockey fan wanting to sell Leon’s bisexuality to the tabloids. Hell, only like 4 people on the team knew. But Anaheim doesn’t have a huge hockey presence so he takes a chance. He gets out of team movie night under the guise of an upset stomach.

Instead, he Ubers to the nearest gay bar. The place is pretty packed when he gets there. He orders a drink and notices a floppy haired blond guy across from him. He’s a little too scrawny to pass as Connor, but Leon’s not asking for perfection. He asks the bartender to send over another of whatever he’s having before he makes his way over to him. Not-Connor’s name is Josh, and they hit off right away.

Soon, Leon’s pushing not-Connor up against the bathroom wall, grinding against him. Not-Connor gets down on his knees and sucks Leon off. It doesn’t take long until Leon’s shooting down his throat with a hand in his thick hair. He starts to get down so he can reciprocate, his jaw is gonna kill him tomorrow but he’s not an asshole, when not-Connor stops him.

“If you want, we can go to mine and you can fuck me,” he says, biting his lip.

Leon’s already forgotten his name, but he says yes anyway.

Not Connor is really fucking flexible, letting Leon hook his legs over his shoulders when he fucks him in missionary. They stop for a quick snack in the kitchen before Leon bends him over the counter and fucks him until tears form in the corner of his eyes.

Leon’s half an hour late for curfew, but no one says anything to him.

2) The Vacation

Don’t get him wrong, Leon is always honoured to be invited to All-Star weekend. However, if he had the choice of being interviewed for two days straight or sitting on a beach in california for a week, he probably wouldn’t put too much though into his decision.

But, he still had 4 days of vacation in Palm Springs with the team before he and Connor had to leave early. Connor had asked him if he wanted to split the cost of the penthouse suite, and because Leon’s room was on the other side of suite as yours and Connor’s room, he said yes.

They left for California as soon as their last game ended, leaving them too tired to party the first night, choosing to order room service instead. Leon gets a plate of honey garlic chicken wings, 12 of them to himself, spaghetti, and a slice of cheesecake because, fuck it, he’s on vacation.

When it arrives, he snatches the plate of wings before Connor could take one, he had a bad habit of saying he didn’t want stuff and then asking for a few bites. Normally, Leon doesn’t care but he’s been craving wings for weeks. Why did he choose the career with the strict diet regimen?

“You’re really not gonna share?” Connor asks, eyebrow raised.

“Nope,” he replies, popping the ‘p’ and sinking his teeth into his second one.

“You have 12!”

“No one was stopping you from ordering your own.”

Leon feels your eyes on him. He assumes it's because he’s foregone any and all manners. The sticky sauce on the wings coat his fingers, he can feel it in his beard but he does not care because they’re so good. He doesn’t care that he’s gone full barbarian-

“Leon do you want to have a threesome with us?” you ask and Leon chokes on a piece of chicken.

“What?” He nearly drops his wing, “Right now?”

Connor’s groans and runs a hand through his hair in exasperation, “This is not how we said we would ask him.”

“I’m sorry. I can’t explain it,” you giggle and gesture at how he’s hunched over his wings, “but this is doing it for me?”

“Really?” Leon asks incredulously and Connor looks at you in disbelief.

“I wish I could say it didn’t.”

Leon squints at you and Connor, “You’re serious about this?”

“Yeah,” You both respond.

“We’ve been discussing adding a third,” Connor asks, “We were going to ask when you weren’t beasting a plate of wings - I admire your ability to eat during a conversation, by the way - but someone can’t keep it in their pants.”

You shrug, taking a bite from your burger.

Leon contemplates it, eating his 8th wing in the meantime.

“Sure,” he says, starting his 9th, “But not tonight. I don’t feel sexy after I eat spaghetti.”

You laugh, “Leon, if you had to choose between only sex or only food which would it be?”

“Food,” he says with no hesitation, or regrets.

~~~

The next day Leon spends baking in the sun. Everybody had decided to spend the day in the attached private pool in the suit. He chirps Connor when his skin starts to burn about an hour into the day and pokes at his red shoulder when he joins Connor under the umbrella.

By the end of the day Leon is pleasantly tipsy, saying goodbye to the team as he lounges on the couch. When the door shuts, you settle yourself in his lap. Your skin is warm from the heat.

Your sheer white swimsuit coverup has been driving Leon insane for the past two hours the team has been in the suite. Although, seeing you in your bikini, watching the water glint off your tan skin as Connor splashed you with the water, was far worse.

“Hi,” you hum, leaning in, “You still down for this?”

“Of course.”

You kiss him, letting out a groan as you do so. Leon rests his hands on your thighs, and when you don’t rebuke him he slides them up, dragging your cover up with him. His fingers toy with the band of your suit bottoms. He pulls away from your mouth, instead kissing along your jaw, scraping his beard against your skin gently. Normally, he wouldn’t be so bold, but, when you first started dating Connor, he told Leon that he started to grow his beard out because you enjoyed the scratch on your skin. He pays attention to the places that draw tiny gasps or moans from you, noting them for later.

“I should have known that the two most impatient people in my life wouldn’t wait for me,” Connor says, holding your jaw to kiss you. Leon doesn’t miss the way your body goes limp against him when Connor’s fingers tighten ever so slightly.

“I wouldn’t have pegged you as a sub,” Leon hums, pulling your cover up all the way over your head. “She’s not,” Connor interjects, helping Leon with his task, “She’s a brat, but she’s pretty.”

“You’re mean,” you respond, “Should we move to the bedroom?”

Connor pulls you up, off his lap. Leon thinks that he’s just going to lead you, but Connor picks you up. You pull him closer with your legs, grunting as Connor settles you and starts walking to the master bedroom. Leon has to stop himself running after you.

Leon takes two minutes to get there, stopping for a quick glass of water. Two minutes is all it takes for Connor to fuck you from behing. Leon takes a minute, scanning his eyes over the two of you. Connor looks over and winks at him and Leon gets that same pang in his heart again. He stops, and you let out a whine in protest, pushing your hips back against him.

“Take her mouth,” Connor says, nodding towards the empty spot on the bed.

“For the record, I’m not thrilled that you’re bossing me around,” he says but obliges, pulling his swim shorts off on the way there.

He gives himself a few pumps before you reach over and take over, “You can put your hand in my hair,” you say, before you wrap your lips around the tip.

Connor’s hand slides along your spine, lightly dragging his nails as you start to bob your head, taking Leon deeper each time.

“Should we link arms in true Eiffel Towel fashion?”

~~~

Leon thought it was going to be a one-time thing, but the next morning he wakes up with your throat on his dick, and he can hear the shower running. By the time Connor’s back in the room, you’re cuming on Leon’s cock as he spills into the condom.

“You asshats,” Connor says, water dripping down abs, “I leave for five minutes.”

“You take the longest showers known to man, Con,” you tease, accepting his kiss.

That day the team planned on going to go sightseeing, but Leon makes the excuse of finding a girl at the hotel bar last night. Connor says that the two of you are going to take advantage of the empty penthouse. And you do. The next day, during the team hike, the three of you lag behind the rest, too exhausted to keep up.

~~~

Leon thinks that when they land in San Jose for the All Star game, that it’s the end, and he’s almost sad about it. But at the end, Connor and him get the same snap. You lifting up your McDavid jersey to reveal a lacey, navy blue bodysuit. The V dips tantalizingly low, Leon wants to lick the exposed skin and feel your body squirm against his as he teases you. He and Connor change faster than Leon thought was possible, and soon he’s upstairs in yours and Connors room. Connor fucks you first, not giving you quite enough to cum as he finishes, filling you. As Leon’s rolling on the condom, Connor’s whispering in his ear - don’t let her cum.

So Leon fucks you  slowly. Holding both of your hands in one of his palms, he takes his time. His thrusts are rhythmic, as he grinds into you, watching your face contort. He rubs your clit, feeling the way you clench around him. He pushes you to the edge and waits  before pulling out entirely. He rests his dick on your stomach, pulling off the condom as he cums on your stomach.

3) The Dinner

Connor gets sick from the WEM signing in February. (Whoever decided to have the Oiler’s star player do a fan signing with a thousand people in the middle of flu season needs to be fired but that’s besides the point.) Because of this, he can’t go to the Nuge’s team bonding dinner but he insists that you still come, the other girls would miss you.

So you go, and you press up against Leon every once in a while during drinks. At dinner, you sit next to him, keeping a hand on his thigh at all times. Your hand moves onto his inseam as you spoon risotto into your mouth. While Nuge and Bre are handing out deserts, you lead him down a hallway.

“Hold on...aha!” you push open a door, leading to a guest room. The bed is made, and there’s a picture of Nuge’s dog on the bedside table. You turn the picture down, “I don’t want Sophie to see what we’re about to do.”

“(Y/N), What about Connor?” he asks. Leon has spent the night with you and Connor multiple times since coming home, and he’s fucked you many times but Connor’s always been there.

“Connor doesn’t care,” you say, pushing him down on the bed, “He said it was fine. We can FaceTime him if you want.”

Leon doesn’t think you’re lying, but he does enjoy watching Connor bite his lip as he watches Leon fuck you from behind. He’s got a terrible angle, can’t really see much but just the sounds of you and Leon make him groan into the phone. You end the cal with a quick “I love you.”

“You coming over tonight?” you ask when you and Leon finished getting dressed.

“Obviously.”

Everyone’s tipsy enough that they hadn’t noticed the two of you were gone.

When Leon comes over that night it’s the first time he gets his hands in Connor. He’s just finished fucking you - he’d quickly become the one to call the shots when he was around - and Connor was watching him pound into uou with wide eyes, fists clenched at his side like he was told.

Leon had spent a number of nights with you and Connor by now, but he figured Connor wasn’t into men so he didn’t push it. But this time it was different, he didn’t know why, but it was.

Leon knee-walks over to him, planting his legs on either side of Connor’s thighs. He doesn’t kiss him, doesn’t know if that’s too much, but he slides his hand up the length of them.

Giving a handy for the first time is always a little bit awkward, Leon actually has to pay attention to what they do and do not like, but with Connor it’s easier. It’s still a little awkward, he accidentally squeezes Connor’s base a little too hard and he crumpled against him, but it’s significantly better.

(Later that week you’d have a conversation with Connor.

“You know I don’t mind if you wanna do stuff with Leo when you’re gone right?”

“What?”

“If you want to. You don’t have to but you seemed like you really enjoyed Leo’s hands the other day. Not that I blame you for that.”)

4) The Roadie

Leon isn’t expecting anyone to knock on his hotel door. He’s surprised when it’s Connor there. He’s antsy, cracking his knuckles.

“Hey,” he says, furrowing his brows at Connor’s uneasy demeanour, “everything okay?”

“Everything’s great,” Connor replies, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

“Do you wanna come in?”

“Wh-oh yeah sure,” he stutters like he didn’t realize that he was still outside.

Leon lets him in, and Connor walks to the chair on the other side of the room, but doesn’t sit. Leon eyes him as he sits on the edge of the bed.

“So I talked to (Y/N),”  Connor starts.

“And…” Leon prompts.

“She said that if we wanted to mess around together on roadies then that’s fine with her,” he takes a deep breath “andivebeenthinkingaboutitandiwannatrymaybebutivenever-”

“Woah woah woah,” Leon stops him, “You’re going to have to repeat that way slower.”

“I was thinking that, if you’re down, then maybe I would be willing to try it?” he trails off at the end.

“Connor?”

“Yes?”

“Do you want to sleep with me?”

“Maybe,” Connor takes another deep breath, “I mean I’ve never done anything with a dude before, but I kinda liked it the other day. But like, only if you want to.”

“We can fool around on roadies,” picking up is so much work, Leon would love to have a steady side piece - even though he doesn't have a main piece, “Since when were you into dudes.”

Connor rubs a hand over his face, “Don’t start with me. I’ve been having an ongoing sexuality crisis for a while. I love women, (Y/N) especially, but we’re tabling this conversation for, like a year.”

“Just one thing,” he says, finally sitting down on the bed next to him, “I don’t want you to….fuck me just yet.”

Leon wants to laugh, Connor’s so straight that it hurts, “Gay sex isn’t like straight sex, there’s a process. And, I don’t want to brag, but if I were to fuck you, you wouldn’t be able to walk for a week and you’re kind of important to the team.”

“So...you’re a bottom,” Leon teases, poking him in the shoulder.

“I think so? Obviously I won’t really know until I try it but I see the appeal….what are you?”

Leon does laugh at that, “ I usually top but I don’t mind taking it every once in a while.”

Connor nods, which Leon finds adorable. The last time Leon dealt with any kind of virginity was when he was losing his own (both times), and he’s kind of excited.

Connor leans in, kissing Leon softly. Leon pushes against them, hand coming up to card through Connor’s hair. A few moments later, he pulls away.

“What’s the verdict?” Leon asks.

“Your beard feels weird.”

“Good weird or bad weird,” Leon didn’t have a 5 step beard oil routine for it to feel bad.

“Good weird.”

Leon hums in approval. Connor leans back in, and this time Leon pushes him down on the bed and Connor lets him. He lets Leon trail kisses down his neck, chest heaving off the bed once Leon gets that spot at his jawbone that drives him crazy.

“You good?” Leon asks as he lowers himself between Connor’s spread legs. Connor nods, “If you’re uncomfortable, tell me and we stop.”

He takes Connor’s dick out of his shorts, only mildly surprised when he realizes Connor’s not wearing any underwear. He licks his lips as he starts to jack him off. Connor lets out a breathy moan as Leon drops his hound to the base of his cock a with a gentle squeeze. Leon leans forward, sucking on the head gently as he watches Connor’s face turn red. Leon bobs his head down, taking more down his throat each time. Leon digs his fingers into Connor’s hips to keep them down.

“Easy, baby,” Leon murmurs, not realizing the nickname was on the tip of his tongue until it had slipped out, “It’s been a while, you’re gonna have to give me a second before you fuck my throat.”

“ ‘M sorry,” Connor says, panting.

“It’s okay, Con,” Leon responds, reaching for Connor’s  hand and placing it in his hair.

“Fuuck, Leo,” Connor grunts when Leon starts to suck on his head.

Leon finds a good rhythm, bobbing his head low and hollowing his lips as he comes up. Connor is groaning, Leon should probably tell him to keep his voice down given that they’re surrounded by the team but he doesn’t care.

Leon drops his dick, until the very tip of his cock, and sucks. Connor grunts, thrusting up into Leon’s hands before Leon starts to slide his hand up and down quickly, bringing Connor to the edge.

“Close,” he pants, “I-close, Leo, plea-”

Leon sinks his head down one more time before Connor hits the back of his throat. He sputters a little as Connor keeps spilling into his mouth. He feels a little bit dribble out, and when he finally pulls off, he wipes his mouth with the back of his hand.

“How was that?” Leon asks, tucking Connor’s soft dick under the waistband of his shorts.

Connor has a hand thrown over his face, and his only answer is a groan. Leon can’t help but laugh.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, I know my head game is strong.”

(Connor tries to give Leon a blowjob, but he gets a little too ambitious and chokes a few bobs in. Connor sputters and coughs, and Leon can’t help but chuckle as Connor grips his thighs, trying to catch his breath. He wants to try again but Leon stops him.

“You’ve done a lot today, you can try again later if you want to.”

“No, no I can do it.”

Leon explains that he doesn’t want Connor to bite his dick and Connor relaxes, giving him a hanjob instead. His pressure is a little light, so Leon wraps his hand around Connor’s and guides him until Leon finishes all over his stomach.

(Connor hesitantly runs a finger through the mess, before slowly raising his finger to his lips. He scrunches his nose in disgust. “Drink some pineapple juice, ugh.” and Leon laughs)

Connor leaves shortly after, and Leon definitely doesn’t replay the moment over and over again in his head.)

+ 1) The One Time he Stayed

When Leon pulls up into Connor’s driveway, he’s expecting the usual: play with Lenny, threesome, play with Lenny, dinner, play with Lenny, maybe round two, decide if he wants to drive home at 3 am (the answer is most likely no).

However, when he shows up Connor isn’t even home, which is not normal. Lenard throws himself at Leon when he walks through the door, knocking him down on the floor.

“One of these days he’s gonna be successful in his assination attempts,” you joke from your place on the couch.

“There are worse ways to die,” he says as he gets back on his feet, this time ready for Lenny’s high energy. Eventually Lenny decides Leon is not worth his time, padding off to his bed by the fireplace, so Leon sits by you on the couch.

“Watchya reading?” he asks, poking you in the side.

“My textbook detailing the different types and phases of psychosis,” you say,  capping your highlighter.

“Hm,” Leon grunts, “Uplifting.”

“Very,” you place the book on the coffee table, “So Connor was telling me about your hook up on the roadie.”

Leon’s heart stops, “Connor said it was okay and you seduced me at Nuge’s so I assumed-”

“Leon, relax” you cut him off with a chuckle, “I’m not mad.”

Leon lets out the breath he didn’t know he was holding.

“And I did not seduce you at Nuge’s.”

“You led me down a hallway I’ve never been in just to have sex with me in their guest bedroom,” he raises an eyebrow, “that’s the definition of seducing.”

You mutter something that Leon can’t decipher under his breath which he knows means that he’s won this argument.

“Anyways,” you say, clearing your throat, ““Connor was gonna be here, but he had an appointment and now he’s stuck on the Henday but he’ll be here soon. We were talking and we were thinking, only if you wanted to, that maybe you could join us...as a couple.”

Leon isn’t sure he understands your proposal.

“What?”

“Would you like to join me and Connor as a third?” you ask, “If you don’t want you can leave before Connor comes home and we’ll never bring it up again.”

~~~

Later that day, when Leon is falling asleep with Connor on one side of him using his chest as a pillow and you’re on his other side tucked against him, he’ll think about what a strange road it was to get here. Connor’s already asleep, listening to Leon’s heartbeat as his head rises and falls on with Leon’s breath.

“So was this always the plan?” Leon asks when he feels you tracing something on his skin.

“Hm?” you question.

“Was this all an elaborate ploy to get me to join you and Connor?” he clarifies, “Because if so, kudos because I never expected.”

“No,” Connor mumbles against Leon’s chest, turns out he wasn’t asleep, “We didn’t expect to ask you to join us more than once in California but you’re too damn cute.”

“I never thought we would because I didn’t think Davo was into dudes,” you say, “We get any closer to an answer on the sexuality thing, Con?”

“We’ll get there when we get there.”

[kenjikutie]

Starlight [Dabi x Single Mom!Reader]

summary: when you and your children are saved by a man covered in burns, you offer to repaire his staples and clean him up, an offer that gets you much more than you’d bargained for word count: 2.6k warnings: a tiny bit of violence pairing: dabi x fem!reader

waking up at five am every morning to prepare yourself for the day certainly was not how you saw your life turning out four years ago. but, the moment where you opened the door to your twin son’s room washed away all over your regrets and filled the space with nothing but love. you thanked whatever was above you each day that they had ended up looking like you, rather than their father. you didn’t know what you would have done if you had to look at his face for the rest of your life

kindly stroking hibiki’s cheek, you watched as your son squirm awake, blinking away the sleep in his eyes. you smiled softly and whispered your morning greeting to him, watching as he beamed at the sight of his mother. hibiki kicked his small legs at you, a signal for your attention. with a huff, you lifted your son from his bed and sat him on your hip, slightly ticking his sides to see him giggle

when you felt a small tug on your pant-leg, you glanced downward to see hitomu giving you a pout, clearly jealous of the attention his brother was getting. you set your hand on his head, ruffling his soft y/h/c locks before setting down hibiki to present them their outfits for the day. the two had rambled on and on last night about how excited they were to attend their first day of preschool

though you would never tell them, you were just as happy to get a day to yourself while your sons were taken care of. you had so many errands to run, bills to pay and groceries to buy. living as a single mother in the city was tough, both financially and mentally, but it was worth it. you didn’t want to rely on the boy’s father for anything

while you were caught up in your thoughts, hitomu took your hand in his much smaller one, showing you a bright smile, though it was missing a few teeth. he proudly held up his all might lunchbox and you came to the realization he was trying to imitate his idol. hibiki took your other hand, beginning to mutter about how the three of you should get going before they miss breakfast

after locking up the apartment, you kept a steady grip on their hands, not wanting them to get lost in all the hustle and bustle of the city. the boys seemed to glare at everyone who past you, taking their roles as the ‘men of the house’ very seriously. you, on the other hand, were focused on reviewing the route to their preschool, praying that you didn’t get lost along the way

suddenly, you felt a sharp tug on your elbow, causing you to gasp, preparing to let out a scream before a rough hand clamped over your mouth. hitomi and hibiki gripped tightly to you, calling out to you as the three of you were dragged into a nearby alleyway. you were harshly thrown onto the concrete, wincing when you felt your knees scrape against it, surely drawing blood

hibiki clung to your left side, burying his face in your stomach with a sob, “mommy! are you h-hurt?”

you reached upward and set your hands on his cheeks, “hitomi, take your brother and get out of here right now! please!”

darting your eyes around, you caught sight of hitomi but your stomach dropped down to the pits of hell when you saw what he was doing. hitomi had his hands balled up into fists, holding his all might lunchbox in front of him

“l-leave my m-momma alone!”

“hibiki, stop!”, you screamed, terrified of what could happen next

the man laughed, a cruel, wicked sound, before snatching the prized possession out of your son’s hands and throwing it against the brick wall, smirking when he heard it split open. you pulled yourself off the ground, doing the best you could to ignore the throbbing pain in your skull. swiftly, you wrapped your arms around hitomi’s torso, pulling him behind you

with a tightening of your fist, you laid a punch on the attacker’s face, wanting to scream from how bad it hurt. he wiped the blood off of his nose and gripped you by the collar, slamming his forehead onto yours, causing your vision to become nearly entirely black. you could hear your sons crying but couldn’t speak a word

then, a bright flash of blue brought back your vision, feeling yourself slip from the man’s hold and back to the ground. you didn’t even look back at the attacker, despite his screams of pain and agony. hitomi and hibiki were holding one another, tears running down their horrified faces. quickly, you held the back of their heads and tucked their faces into your chest, hoping to hide whatever gruesome thing was happening behind you

when everything went quiet, you shyly lifted your head, flinching when bright blue eyes stared right back at you. the man in front of you was lanky and tall, scars littering his chest and face, along with staples holding his normal skin together. he looked like he was in so much pain and it made your heart ache

“you good?”, he asked, voice gruff and rougher than any sandpaper

“n-no, but,”, you looked up at him with wide eyes, “thank you. thank you so much.”

he didn’t move or acknowledge your thanks, only walked behind you to pick up the lunchbox that now had a huge crack in it, right over the face of your son’s hero. hitomi pulled away from you reluctantly when he felt a tap on his head. his eyes watered at the sight of his lunchbox but he took it back anyways, clutching it to himself

you slowly stood up, but even that was too much for your head. your knees buckled as soon as you were on your feet and you would have fallen back down again had it not been for the hand that steadied your lower back. everything was turning hazy again and you were sure you head a concussion. the last thing you saw was the concerned eyes of your sons and their mouths opening, surely calling out your name

---

you slowly fluttered your eyes open, feeling yourself relax into the softness of a familiar bed. then, you remembered the events before you fell asleep. lifting yourself forward suddenly, you felt the pain in your head come back but you pushed it away, determined to know how you got home and where your children were

the first place you checked was the living room, heart beating even faster when you didn’t see them, only the mess that had been left from their toy playing session the other day. where were your sons? how did you get home? and where-

a relieved sigh left your lips when you opened the door your sons’ room, only to see them snoring softly in their racecar beds. you had never been happier than that moment. when a cough came from the doorway, you jumped, holding out your hands in defense while the figure chuckled

“geez, chill out jumpy. it’s all good.”

the man from before stared at you with humor in his eyes. a part of you said to hit him until he left your home, to chase him out but, another part was begging you to make him stay. you just had to know who had saved you from something so terrible

taking one last look at your sleeping sons, you joined him in the hallway, keeping the door open out of paranoia. he kept his eyes on you, making you more nervous by the second

“um, thank you for back there. if you hadn’t come-”

“you already thanked me. hit your head that hard, jumpy?”, he teased and you felt your fists clench

“well, im sorry if im a bit uneasy after being attacked in an alleyway!”, you threw up your hands and stormed into your room, hearing him cackle behind you but follow you nonetheless

taking a seat on the edge of your bed, you felt tears begin to pool in your eyes. hurriedly wiping them away with your hand, you could feel the bed dip beside you, but neither of you said anything. you held your face in your hands, softly crying your heart out

dabi winced at the sound, the noise of a mother sobbing bringing back memories he would much rather have forgotten. when he had seen you and your kids get pulled into the alleyway, he had contemplated doing nothing to help, just continuing back to the bar. but, the face that had comforted him throughout the nightmare that was childhood would not leave his mind until he saved you

you peeked out from between your fingers to see a tissue being dangled in front of your face. eyes widening, you reached out to accept it, dabbing at your eyes with the soft tissue

“im a failure of a mother.”, you whispered and dabi quickly placed his hand on your shoulder, turning you to face him

“from what i saw, you punched the dude in the face and managed to protect your kids even after gettin’ the life headbutted outta ya. you’re not a bad mom.”

when he began to stand up, you latched onto the sleeve of his long jacket, head hanging down, “why are you doing this? i don’t even know you.”

and at that moment, all he saw was his mother

“you remind me of someone i know.”

raising your head, you tossed the tissue into your garbage can and looked up at him with a pout. he nearly laughed at how much you looked like a little kid but your splotchy eyes made his heartache

“let me repay you.”, dabi raised his eyebrows with a teasing smirk and you blushed, “not like that! i meant that i could fix your staples, they look like they hurt.”

after thinking for a minute, he nodded, “lead the way, jumpy.”

---

dabi was sat on the edge of your bathtub, watching your every move. when you bent down to take the supplies out of the cabinet, his eyes trailed a bit lower but he shook his head with a smirk. you would so not be into that, he thought

“it’s probably gonna hurt but don’t worry, i took a few nursing courses in college so i don’t think i’ll kill you.”, you joked and it made him feel a bit better that you had calmed down

“that’s good to know, jumpy.”

you stood up and set a hand on your hip, looking down at the man with a look typically reserved for your children, “would you stop calling me that?”

kneeling down in front of the tub, you began to wet a cotton ball with some peroxide while dabi shook his head, “no can do. i don’t know what your name is.”

“well, i don't know yours either.”

“and you’re not gonna- jesus!”, dabi jumped at the sudden sting on his cheek and you quickly apologized, rambling about how it was supposed to hurt less if it was a surprise

the two of you entered a comfortable silence, you gently removing and replacing his staples after disinfecting his raw skin. dabi began to look around your bedroom, at least what he could see from the doorway. no photos of anyone but your kids and someone he assumed was your mom. the right side of the bed looked like it hadn’t been used

“your husband probably won’t be happy to find me here, ya know?”, he was pressing slightly, watching to see any reaction you made but your face stayed neutral as you tossed another cotton ball into the trash

“i don’t have a husband, just me and my sons.”, your eyes held sadness, a different one from earlier, this one was dull and seemed very old

“oh. did he-”

“yes.”, your hold on his skin turned harsher and dabi caught your wrist, meeting your eyes before pushing your hand back

“sorry.”, you muttered, going back to your work while dabi watched you intently

the father of your kids must have been someone pretty stupid to leave the three of you. your sons seemed to love you a ton, considering how their walk home consisted of one of them glaring at him while holding your hand and the other quietly telling him where to go

he remembered looking down at your face while you slept in his arms. you were one of the most beautiful women he had ever laid his eyes on, so it was only natural to think you had someone waiting for you at home. but, the only boys who had your heart where the four-year-olds who wouldn’t leave your side until they fell asleep

he had been so deep in thought that he hadn’t even noticed you had finished up. you were right. dabi felt much better. he could finally move his arms and face without feeling like he was about to rip his skin off. maybe he would come back here again if it ever got too bad

“thanks, jumpy.”, dabi said, watching as you glanced down at the tile floor

“y/n. i’m y/n.”, he hadn’t expected you to tell him your name, figuring your paranoia would still have the better of you

dabi fixed his coat and let you walk him to the front door, taking a glance at you from the side. you were gorgeous but, there was nothing he could do about it. he was one of the most wanted villains in japan. it was a miracle you hadn’t noticed who he was yet

the two of you stood in the entryway, you avoiding his gaze and him refusing to look anywhere else. he would probably never see you again with how his life was going but there was a pull in him, a part of himself he had locked away a long time ago, that wanted him to stay here, to fall in love with you

you felt a rough hand place itself on your cheek and you gasped, locking eyes with the man who had saved your life. dabi leaned in and couldn’t help but notice that you did too, but, all you received was a peck on the forehead

“you don’t have to leave, you know?”, you said and he could see the worry in your eyes, but it wasn’t fear for yourself

“sorry beautiful, but i have some prior engagements to take care of. but, you ain’t gotta worry, nothing like that’s gonna happen to you again.”, furrowing your eyebrows as the man opened your door, you reached out to grab him, but he was faster than you

“see you tomorrow morning, y/n.”

the end.

[leroyzboots]

you and i are trying, together.

part one

Benrey's been looking for the opportunity to apologize for...quite some time now, in fact.

Just looking at Gordon and his dripping stump he now has instead of a hand causes his stomach to churn with intense discomfort.

It doesn't help with the nightmares, either.

As if the abuse of the soldiers and the military of Black Mesa constantly swimming in and out of his dreams wasn't bad enough, now they're coupled together with the deep black room where the horror occurred.

They're standing in the mixology lab, Darnold is explaining something to Gordon, when the flashbacks are triggered heavily by a loud bang and mechanical shock from one of the many computers.

Sharp, angry metal poles stick deep into Benrey's neck and fill him with electricity, drawing a long, piercing shriek from his throat that melts into Gordon's rapid wailing.

And then Benrey is crouching on the ground, and the soldier's boot is slamming into his side, crushing and breaking his ribs, and Benrey tastes blood.

He's kneeling in it, the blood pours out from his lips and covers the floor, a massive pool of Gordon's life fluid.

The world is spinning, and Benrey faces Gordon again, and watches as the scientist raises his bloody stump, now transformed into a gun, makes a fist and shoots.

The bullets strike a numbing pain into Benrey's brain, and as Gordon shoves past him, not even sparing him a glance, he expects the daytime nightmare to end.

It doesn't.

Benrey presses his hand to his forehead, the only place the shots entered, and it comes away shaky and covered in wet, sticky red liquid.

Guess that part of it was real.

It doesn't take more than a few seconds out of the lab before the bullets clatter onto the ground and the wound heals.

--

They're barely a few hours out from the Lambda lab when opportunity strikes.

The ground shakes beneath their feet, and Dr. Coomer lets out a little yelp and latches onto Bubby's arm, who grabs onto Tommy's collar as the floor begins to break apart.

Bubby realizes with a horrible jolt that they only have two hands.

The tiles shatter and crumble beneath Gordon's boots, and he grabs at the closest person next to him, which is unfortunately Benrey.

As the hole expands, Benrey catches ahold of the edge of it, and stops himself from falling through, but as Gordon wraps himself around Benrey's pants leg, the combined weight of the man and his HEV suit is too much for one-handed hanging.

They fall.

It's deep, and Benrey tenses as his torso hits the concrete below with a breathtaking amount of force.

Definitely half a dozen broken ribs, a fractured shoulderblade and his spinal cord snaps.

Whatever.

He'll recover.

But Gordon lands feet first, with a sickening crack that causes him to scream and tumble over onto his side.

Benrey heals as quickly as he can, feeling his nerves re-attatch as he forces himself to stand, eyes peering up at the hole they came from.

Tommy's color-splotched face peeks over the edge, so far away that Benrey just barely can make out his features.

"Are you tw-two okay, Mr. Freeman!?" Tommy has to shout the question down at them.

It had to have been a 40, maybe 50 foot drop.

"We're...we'll be fine!" Gordon shouts back upward, his leg clutched between his hands.

"I'll circle around until we find a way back up. Keep...just keep heading to the lab and I'll c-catch up."

"Alrighty, M-Mr. Freeman!"

Tommy's head disappears, and distantly Benrey hears their retreating footsteps.

Gordon winces as he stands and tests his leg, which sticks out at a slightly bent angle near the middle of his shin.

"Dude, it's definitely broken," Benrey notes, and Gordon tenses before making a face of annoyance.

"Right," he groans, "I forgot you're with me."

And Gordon stomps off, far harder than he really should on his leg, and leaves Benrey standing beneath the light shining through the hole.

Sighing, Benrey makes a decision.

He follows, jogging to catch up to Gordon's pace before trailing slightly behind.

--

Gordon is very clearly not doing so hot.

He's limping, and sweating like a stuck pig to the point it's dripping off his nose onto the ground.

Benrey's been watching him carefully, and Gordon....hasn't said a word to him since the beginning.

He's leaned up against Benrey a few times on accident, but not a single sound has been in his general direction.

It's when Gordon stumbles over a fallen chair and whimpers from the pain that Benrey breaks the silence.

"Dammit, man. Alright. Sit down, dude, please?"

Gordon turns, scowling, but the exhaustion on his face is showing.

"Why do you care?"

Benrey pauses.

He could lie, of course, make something up or tell a joke to get Gordon to sit.

But he wants to apologize, and starting it out with a lie isn't..something Benrey wants to do.

So he tells the truth, even if it is hard for him to say it.

"Because I care about you, and we're friends, man. Sit down?"

Gordon scoffs, turning around all the way, and slipping slightly with his broken shin.

"We are not friends, not after you so-sold me out to the fuckin. Boot boys, the soldiers!"

He's not thinking straight, the pain alone is causing Gordon to reach incoherence.

"Yeah, well you led the soldiers to us!"

Gordon opens his mouth to retort, but Benrey cuts him off, barreling onward.

"I wasn't fucking. Angry, like Bubby was, but the dude doesn't know his damn limits, 'aight? So. Had to jump in, you know? Thought it'd be uhhh, funny little prank. Like all, surprise!"

Benrey waves his hands in place, stopping only to take a breath before continuing.

"Well, it didn't work how either of us wanted. They. They uhh."

Blood, his blood is on Benrey's hands and knees.

"They cut your damn hand off. It just..just...they cut it off like butter! Ha, ha haha, butter...and it-it was so much blood and..."

Benrey gulps, and he almost chokes as he loudly mutters the next few words.

"I thought. Thought I'd killed you, you know? Gordo, I th-thought you were dead."

He struggles, and a high pitch of navy blue sweet voice hangs in the air for a second before Benrey goes on, after another deep breath.

"Gordon, I'm really sorry. I know that. That I'm not always your gamer buddy, but I'm sorry. So if you could just fucking sit down, so I can stop watching you die, that'd be fantastic."

Gordon stares, his mouth open just a little, before he sits down, a small groan escaping him as the pressure comes off his leg.

Benrey lets out a sigh of relief, before heading back a little ways to grab the bandages from the medkit on the wall.

Crouching around the chair Gordon stumbled over, he snaps off the middle support piece and tests the sturdiness.

Gordon glances up as Benrey steps over to him, the sweat wiped away and his eyes a more gentle gaze than before.

Benrey kneels, and gingerly works off the protective plate of Gordon's boot before he looks up again, the chair beam in his left hand and the bandages in the other.

"I'm gonna uh. Set the bone. Homemade splint, you know? Tommy. Tommy, he taught me how to do this a long time ago."

Benrey pushes the beam gently against the other's shin, wrapping it down with the bandage near the bottom.

"It's. Gonna hurt, but uhh. S'gonna feel better and you'll be able to put p-pressure on it again."

Gordon takes a deep breath, and closes his eyes as Benrey pushes down hard.

The bone snaps back into place, and Gordon cries out through gritted teeth, but it's over quick and the pain is lessened by a great amount as the security guard before him wraps the entirety of his leg up to his knee.

"There. You should still uh. Rest a bit. Imma lay down."

Benrey gets to his feet, and starts to walk away, but Gordon reaches out and grabs ahold of his pants, stopping him for a second.

".....Thank you."

Gordon lets go, and leans back against the wall and closes his eyes.

Benrey stays in place, watching him carefully until he falls asleep, before sidling down a little ways off to keep watch.

--

Things are definitely better between the two of them after that.

When Gordon wakes up, he's much friendlier to Benrey, without any real hostility.

Honestly? Gordon's glad.

His relationship with Benrey had always been a bit complicated.

Sure, before, Benrey was annoying as hell, but he always made Gordon laugh.

He was nice, someone Gordon's own age for once, and if not someone who he could confide in, a friend.

But then, the soldiers have him, and the pain in his arm is excruciating, and everything Benrey did or does suddenly isn't so comforting.

Convinced Benrey's jokes were meant to demean him, his casual touches and close contact deception, Gordon turned and just kinda.

Let Benrey have the short end of the stick.

But earlier...Benrey tells him he cares, that Gordon's life was always in his best interests, and that they were and still are, friends.

So, it feels good to no longer make Benrey the target of his affliction.

Gordon's about to suggest looking for a vending machine, for some food, when creatures round the corner and attack.

Gordon whips out his gun hand and fires, and vaguely to his right, pistol shots ring off the walls.

The peeper puppies, as Dr. Coomer had called them, bound away from the bullets and circle the pair, releasing their sonic barks and baring their open mouths filled with jagged teeth.

Gordon steps backward, holding his gun hand close to his face to blow cool air on the barrel, the metal radiating pure heat.

Benrey bumps against Gordon's back, hastily re-loading his gun, his face screwed up in careful precision.

But then he turns, and gives Gordon a strained little smile.

A little puddle of happiness forms in Gordon's stomach before the soldiers kick open the underground doors and shoot before they aim.

Gordon finishes off the peeper puppy, then stumbles and shifts his line of fire towards the soldiers.

It's a messy fight, with Gordon constantly limping on his wounded leg, and both sides being attacked by alien creatures.

Gordon's never really seen Benrey fight before, so watching him is definitely an experience.

The way he acts is familiar.

Gordon glances between the reloading gunman ahead of him and Benrey behind him.

The way their hands move over the bullet cartridges, the way both of them hit the side of it with their palm when they're about to reload.

Benrey was trained by the same soldiers shooting at him now.

But the way that they handle guns is the only similarity, because while the military of Black Mesa are ruthless and cruel, Benrey is his own, merciful person.

Gordon fires the last few rounds of his hand before it has to cool down, and thankfully the last soldier drops to the floor.

Benrey is breathing heavily, wiping sweat from underneath his helmet visor, when he pales.

Gordon glances down as something rolls from the soldiers hand to his feet.

A grenade.

Gordon doesn't even have time to react before Benrey lunges, scooping the explosive into his hands and clutching it close to his chest, practically rolling across the ground until he's a good twenty or so feet from Gordon.

He looks back, catching Gordon's eye, and explodes.

Shrapnel bursts from the walls and cracks the paint, debris scatters all around the site and lands in the scientists' hair, who is kneeled over coughing from the dust, his eyes searching the room.

Gordon doesn't want to be alone again, he hates being alone, he hates it.

He turns, ready to head back, and then Gordon wants to vomit.

Benrey staggers, halfway through the revival-respawning process, clearly not wanting to leave Gordon too long.

But dear god.

Half of his body is still skeletal, his entire left side is just an open orifice of bones and muscle.

The bones in Benrey's legs snap together, muscle forming overtop them, before flesh and clothing crawl down to form a whole.

His leg hits solid ground, and it has to be partially startling because Benrey lurches forward, and brain matter slops out of the empty eye socket onto the floor before it vanishes.

His neck cracks, and his head moves jerkily as skin reforms over his jaw and teeth, Benrey's one green eye spinning wildly in place before the tired lid creeps back to hold it still.

A few more disgusting crunches and Benrey is back to normal, passing Gordon now, casually placing his gun back into its holster and moving on.

Gordon blinks a few times, holding back his revulsion for a moment, before chasing after him, through the doorframe into a poorly lit hallway.

"Woah, woah woah man, slow down."

Benrey stops, turning and raising an eyebrow.

Gordon points through the doorframe they came through, gesturing helplessly.

"What. What the actual hell, was that?? You...just, what??"

Benrey blinks, as though he is completely clueless.

He just might be.

"You...you died for me," Gordon finishes, a little quieter than he meant to.

"Uhhh, yeah? Isn't that what friends do?"

Benrey grins as if it's a joke, and Gordon feels the surge of irritation, but also something else he can't quite put his finger on.

"No, it is not something friends do. We do not die randomly for people."

"Yeah. Uh, you do if one of em' can't die. Then it doesn't count, idiot," Benrey says all this casually, in his own, joking around style, but Gordon pauses.

He leans forward, and adopts his casually pleasant expression, but delivers his next question with the tone one would use for a ceremony or a funeral.

"So what happens when I decide to die for you, huh?"

Benrey turns, the smirk still on his face, and opens his mouth to respond with another joke when he stops, eyes wide.

Gordon's....entirely serious.

It surprised him too, but. After the leg wrapping and the grenade stunt, Gordon is. Plenty shocked but pleasantly surprised at how willing he'd be to die for Benrey.

He expects some kind of rebuke, but instead Benrey.

Blushes?

A deep flush goes across his cheeks and his eyes dart away from Gordon's, mumbling under his breath all the while.

Gordon wonders for a second if maybe Benrey's previously irritating teasing had been something else, before he sets off after the guard, a warming smile on his face.

--

Tommy had lied- of course he lied, he had to lie- when he told Mr. Freeman that he couldn't handle a gun.

How else was he supposed to explain without melting the poor man's brain that he was actually an incredibly talented shot, not because of military training, but because he could control the metal?

How was he supposed to explain that through sheer mental prowess, he could morph and create the bullets to go in any direction he wished, never running out of ammo because he could simply will the ammunition into existence?

He didn't want to scare Mr. Freeman away.

Tommy hurries after the Coomers, his long legs easily making distance across the lit hallways of Black Mesa.

Having just emerged from a scuffle with aliens, they were all on edge, wary.

The three hadn't been traveling long, only a couple hours, but worry had already crept down their throats.

Surprisingly, Bubby voices his concern first.

"Do you think they'll get along all right?" They quip, mostly to Harold and himself but to Tommy as well.

"Oh, I'm certain Gordon will make it out just fine," Dr. Coomer replies, cracking his knuckles absentmindedly as a stim.

"And Benrey certainly has always survived whatever Death's thrown his way!"

Bubby nods, but the ends of their mouth turn down with a crease, and he turns to Tommy, who understands their message perfectly.

"Y-yes, Mr. Coomer but! Gordon and Ben-Benrey don't get along together very well."

Anxious, Tommy absentmindedly pulls a spare Beyblade from his pocket and fiddles with the wheels, the soft whir of the toy is calming.

"I'm worried, um, I'm worried! A-about whether they'll m-manage to...to cooperate long enough to survive together."

Dr. Coomer chortles, but the nervous look behind his eyes betrays him.

Bubby shrugs, airing out his still heated hands before speaking.

"Who knows? Maybe they'll work it out and that dumbass will finally tell Gordon how he feels."

Tommy pauses, his mouth puckered.

"Y-you know about Benrey and-and Mr. Freeman?"

"Of course I know, everyone with a damn brain knows," Bubby snorts, then falls short noticing the look on Tommy's face.

"Then you know the kind of trouble th-they're going to walk into."

"Yes," Dr. Coomer sighs, taking Bubby's hand tenderly; "we unfortunately do."

--

Benrey's gotta get those feelings under some goddamn control, because if he doesn't, then.

Game over, you know?

Gordon doesn't seem to understand what he does to Benrey, but it's driving him crazy.

That little thing he pulled back there?

It doesn't help, idiot. Only makes him fall for him more.

But they're both in a good mood, making some distance between them and the last time they saw the soldiers.

It's around midnight by now, and Benrey is ready to go back to sleep.

"Hey, come check this thing out!"

Gordon's excited yell shakes Benrey out of his sleepy stupor, and he hurries over to where Gordon is poking around inside of a barely-lit room, the door frame busted off its hinges in order to access the inside.

Benrey pokes his head in, and his heart slides all the way into his stomach with a horrendous lurch.

This is the room.

He hasn't been here in maybe six, seven or so years, but everything is the same as he left it.

The tube shattered, still connected to the ceiling and floor, the plaque bearing his subject number stubbornly.

The tables, bolted to the floor.

The papers, scattered and ripped, the shelves tipped over and splintered beyond saving.

"What do you think happened here?" Gordon asks, kneeling by the tube in examination of something long discarded on the floor.

Running his hands over the metal table, fingers brushing the shackles, the memories return to Benrey.

Shock collars. Sweet voice tests, hours or days or weeks locked in his tube, sick of breathing the containment fluid.

"I...I know what happened here."

"Er, what? I'm sorry?"

Gordon looks heavily confused, and reluctantly, as if this place will never let him go, Benrey lets go of the chains and shuffles over to the tube.

Taking off his badge, he holds it up to the tube plaque, both bearing the same text.

B3_NY

#7037

Gordon stares, his eyes wide, before turning to the guard.

"I thought that was like, your serial number. They...they made you here?"

Benrey swallows his anger, tossing the badge to the ground and going through the next door.

"They did more than just make me."

It's all still there.

The room is lit only from above, with a dim lightbulb buzzing meekly in its socket.

The long metal bed sits in the center, almost beckoning to Benrey with omnicity.

One of the only scars Benrey has, the precise incision made jagged by struggle, prickles on his back at the sight of it.

He just stands, biting back tears as Gordon goes around the room, looking through boxes, his scientific curiosity never satisfied, until he finds something.

He's not looking, Benrey is not looking at whatever Gordon has clutched in his fist.

In his hurry to get out of this awful room, he slams into the metal table, pushing it into the wall with a reverberating crash.

Benrey drops to the ground outside, shaking and clutching his helmet, with shuddery sobs echoing around him.

He's trying to shut out the memories, but the knives are in his back and Gordon's blood is on his hands and the lightning is in his skull and it's all so terrifyingly loud.

It's a few minutes before Gordon comes back out into the hall.

Benrey goes rigid as Gordon sits down beside him, but he makes no effort to push the subject.

Benrey relaxes, just a little, lowering his hands and leaning against the wall.

A heavy warmth wraps around his hand, and as the guard looks down, he realizes Gordon's hand is on top of his right.

Gordon is purposefully not looking at him.

Heart in his throat, Benrey slowly turns his hand palm upward, and Gordon laces their fingers together.

They're holding hands.

They're holding hands and Gordon looks a little sheepish, but he's smiling fondly and his cheeks are flushed.

Benrey stares, and then cautiously leans into Gordon's shoulder, his helmet clunking quietly against the plate of the HEV suit.

Gordon doesn't let go, and Benrey falls asleep tucked close to his warmth and their hands clasped together.

[jaehyunfirstlove]

Highway to Heaven - Ch. 5

Your best friend Johnny wants to go on a road trip. The only catch? He wants to bring his roommate, Jeong Jaehyun, someone you just couldn’t stand.

Genre: e2l, fluff, angst, smut (18+ only)

Warnings: fingering, swearing

Taglist: @jaehyunnie77​ @sehunniepot​ @jaejoongiewifey-blog @glxwingstar​ (send me a message if you want to be tagged)

Ch. 1 | Ch. 2 | Ch. 3 | Ch. 4 

A/N: A bit of smut in this chapter, but what will it meannnnnn ;)

You woke to arms around you. His breath tickled the back of your neck. He was cuddled into you, his body molded perfectly around you. You didn’t know what to do, you were truly torn. You had to admit it felt nice, to be held by someone again, but you still weren’t sure how you felt about him, and this would certainly be a complication. You shifted slightly, but it was enough to wake him. You could hear him waking up, his consciousness slowly returning, and when he finally realized the position he was in, he froze. He slowly removed his arms from you and turned over in the bed.

“Rise and shine, sleepyheads!” Johnny came into the room, pretending to cover his eyes, “Is there anything going on I should know about?” he questioned innocently, as he threw himself onto the bed in the space between the two of you.

“Grow up,” you complained, getting out of the bed and heading for the bathroom.

“Dude, what happened?” he turned to Jaehyun. You left the room but hovered behind the door, wanting to hear what Jaehyun would say.

“I screwed up! I was doing so well, staying to my side of the bed, but when I woke up I was spooning her!”

“What! Did she know?”

“I don’t know, I took my arms out carefully, she didn’t move, so I don’t know? Ah man, I fucked up. She’s never gonna trust me now.”

“Hey, maybe she didn’t even know? We can only hope.”

“I can’t face her without apologizing though.”

“Suit yourself.” 

You heard the bedsprings groan as Johnny got up from the bed, so you ran into the bathroom and closed the door behind you. You sat on the edge of the tub, head in your hands. You’d never been in such turmoil before, it was usually pretty clear to you if you were attracted to someone or not. Jeong Jaehyun, however, threw you for a loop. On the one hand, he was that callous playboy who slept around with women and dumped them at any inconvenience. On the other hand, he was that guy who would hold your hair back as you threw up, the one who would remember the most innocuous things you liked, the one who would stare with wonder at stars. The one who cared about whether or not you would trust him.

“Hey Y/N, hurry it up in there!” Johnny knocked obnoxiously on the bathroom door, “We got sights to see!”

“Gimme a sec,” you called back, turning on the faucet to splash some water on your face. You looked at yourself in the mirror and decided to be resolute. You had to trust your instincts.

When you came out of the bathroom Jaehyun was on the balcony. The morning breeze was fluttering his hair, his bangs falling into his eyes, which were closed. He was leaning on the railing, in a plain white tee that hugged his shoulders, the hem of it waving slightly in the wind, threatening to give you a view of his perfect abs. You looked away quickly, grabbing your suitcase and heading for the door, hoping he wouldn’t notice you. No such luck.

“Y/N!” he called, coming back into the room. His hair was now mussed from the wind, a bedhead look that would be unattractive on anyone but on him, it just increased his attractiveness. It almost made you angry. “Hey, I just wanted to apologize for last night.”

You faced him, your emotions warring in your gut. “Don’t mention it.” You said in the calmest voice possible.

“I really didn’t mean to-”

“I know.”

“I just need you to know-”

“I get it, Jaehyun. Let’s just forget about it, okay?” You walked away, leaving him standing alone in the room.

---

That day was spent at a local market, the three of you navigating through the stalls of fresh fruits and vegetables and various homemade goods. Once in a while one of you would stop and peruse the wares, or try samples offered by the food sellers. Jaehyun gave you space, not overtly avoiding you though, which you found you were thankful for. He’d sometimes point out things to you and you would just nod before walking away, missing the lingering looks he would give you. At one point Johnny went off to look at some leather goods, leaving you and Jaehyun alone at a fruit stand.

“Would your girlfriend like to try some?” the fruit seller had offered Jaehyun a sample of their peaches, and had gestured towards you, standing behind him.

“Hm? Oh, she’s not my girlfriend,” he offered politely, “just a friend.” The seller apologized, and the two of them continued to engage in conversation about the fruit.

You stood there, feeling like someone had just stabbed you in the chest. There was a dull throb that at any other time you might have thought was a heart attack, but you’d felt it before and you knew exactly what it was. You could feel your face getting hot, ridiculous tears pooling in your eyes. You willed them not to fall, and thankfully they listened.

Johnny came over then, and seeing the look on your face he opened his mouth to ask what was wrong but you stopped him.

“Hey I’m just gonna go back and find that stall that sells soap, you guys stay here I’ll catch up with you later.” You turned and walked away quickly, not giving them the chance to protest.

By the time you had found the soap stall you had calmed down, still determined not to let whatever you were feeling for Jaehyun come to the surface. You’d picked out some soaps and decided to wait for them back at the car. Eventually they came back, talking and laughing over something they had seen.

“Let’s go, I’m hungry,” you called out, getting into the passenger’s seat as Johnny got into the driver’s seat. When he caught your eye he mouthed are you okay? You nodded and he didn’t press any further, knowing that sometimes you needed your space.

You didn’t offer much to the conversation for the rest of the night, not at dinner at the local taqueria, not even when you were all choosing the local motel for the night.

“You guys choose,” was all you said, and soon enough you were pulling up to the gaudy neon sign of the closest roadside motel.

“I managed to get a room with two beds this time! Are you proud of me, Y/N?” Johnny poked you in the side teasingly, but you weren’t in the mood for his jokes.

“Just remember that I’m not sleeping with you,” you warned.

When you got to the room you let the two of them wash up first, wanting to take a long hot shower to soothe yourself. Before you went into the bathroom the two of them were in the same bed, but when you came out Johnny had moved to the other bed, his long limbs splayed out so there was no room for anyone else. Both were asleep. You sighed, thinking about kicking Johnny in the head for being an ass, but thought better of it. Jaehyun was on his side, and even though he wasn’t the smallest person, he was so tucked into himself he took up very little of the bed.

Screw it, you thought, and just laid down on the bed beside Jaehyun. You were too tired for this and sure enough you fell asleep seconds after your head hit the pillow.

---

You were dreaming and you knew it, but it felt so real. His hands were warm on your skin, caressing your naked stomach, reaching down further, parting your legs. Before he could reach your core you woke with a start, not realizing you had cried out in your sleep until you looked over and Jaehyun was staring at you, his eyes practically bulging out of their sockets.

“Y/N?” he whispered, “Are you okay?”

You huffed in frustration. “Fine.”

“Were you having a nightmare?” he asked softly, “You almost screamed.”

“No, it wasn’t that kind of dream,” you sighed.

“What kind of dream was it?” he asked innocently.

“Don’t worry about it,” you snapped, and he took the hint and turned over. 

You, however, were still aroused from the dream, and it was making you frustrated beyond belief. You had to finish yourself if you were going to have any peace, so you looked over to make sure he couldn’t see. Satisfied that what you would be doing wasn’t in his viewpoint, you slipped your hand down your panties and dipped your fingers into your pussy. Sure enough you were wet from the dream, and so you proceeded to finger fuck yourself, but in that position your fingers just couldn’t reach your g spot and it made you even more frustrated. You swore under your breath, and suddenly it hit you that the person in the bed next to you definitely had long enough fingers to reach. You must have been delirious with arousal to even consider it, but you were beyond rational thought at this point.

“Jaehyun,” you whispered, but he didn’t respond, so you shook his shoulder lightly. He turned to you.

“What’s wrong?” he asked sleepily.

“I need your help,” you whispered, and he propped himself up on his elbow to look at you.

“Of course, what do you need?” he whispered back.

“I need you to help me get off.”

You could barely make it out in the dim light but he was blinking his eyes rapidly, shaking his head at the same time. He was definitely malfunctioning.

“I’m sorry, did I hear you correctly-”

“Yes, I need you to finger me until I climax, can you do that?” you clarified. You could feel your arousal slipping away and you were desperate.

“I mean, yeah, but are you sure? What does this mean for our relationship?”

“Listen, I’m horny as hell right now and I can’t even think about that. This is going to be awkward either way, whether you agree to it or not, at least if you do it I’ll have gotten an orgasm out of it.” Your argument was twisted but he contemplated it and seemed to be swayed.

“I guess that’s true…” he agreed, and you almost whooped in relief.

“Great, here, give me your hand.” 

He obliged, and lifting your shirt, you took his hand and placed it palm down on your bare stomach. He inhaled sharply when he made contact with your skin, and the same feeling from the dream returned to you.

“Mm, that’s good,” you moaned softly, which emboldened him. His hand moved independently now, slowly down, and you squirmed in anticipation as he got closer.

“That’s it,” you encouraged, as his fingers reached your folds and he began to part them.

“You’re so wet,” he whispered in awe, and when you moaned again he slid two fingers in. Your back arched off the bed, a silent scream dying in your throat as he started to pump his fingers inside you.

You pressed your lips together to keep from making a sound, not wanting to wake Johnny, but you could feel an intense orgasm coming on. Jaehyun’s fingers were heavenly, hitting you directly in that spot that made your toes curl. You pulled at the sheets as the pleasure in your gut ramped up.

“That’s it,” Jaehyun whispered in your ear, “Come for me, baby.” The combination of his magic fingers, the low tone of his voice, and the term of endearment sent you spiralling. Stars exploded behind your closed eyelids as you had the strongest orgasm of your life at that point, your body shaking, pussy clenching around Jaehyun’s fingers.

He let you come down from your high before he removed his fingers, and you sighed softly at the loss. He got out of the bed quietly and came back with a damp towel to help clean you up, gently wiping away your arousal. When he was done he pulled the covers back over you and smiled.

“Sleep now,” he whispered, because your eyelids were fluttering, and the last thing you remember before you fell into slumber was his fingers ghosting along your cheek.

[scandeniall]

love you, i guess

pairing: suna x reader

Suna is the type of bf to wake you up on your birthday and just look at you like “yk it’s your birthday right?” Like you’re not tryna sleep in 😔‼️ he don’t even tell you happy birthday at first

a/n: so its officially my 22nd birthday so heres the first (of maybe like 2 or 3 birthday!reader fics (let me LIVE)

also this is in the same relationship dynamic as all my other sunarin hc’s lol. There are several easter eggs here!

A sudden weight crushing your side is enough to pull you out of your sleep. Any attempt to push the body off yours is feeble and all you can do is groan in both annoyance and exhaustion. “Rin get off”

You’re met with a face full of hair as Suna nuzzles in face in the crook of your neck before getting up.

“Dude, what the fuck.” Trying to pull the covers that had slipped in his attack fails as he grabs the fabric and shrugs.

“It’s your birthday.” He simply hands you your phone as you double check the day and in fact are met with the day. Your eyes then drift to the time on your phone and you huff.

“It’s 9 am.”

“Whatever. I ordered some breakfast and I’m hungry.” His words come out boredly but you can see the slightest bit of nerves swirling in his eyes and you soften.

“Rin,” you drag out the end of his name as you scramble up to place a kiss on his cheek.

——

“You got any plans today?” The two of you had just finished eating and Suna watched as you straightened up. He’d settled on the couch, game all set up as he waited for you to plop now next to him.

“(Y/F/N) insists on taking me for lunch. That’s about it. Did you want to do something?” You eye your boyfriend suspiciously and he just brushes you off. Once you finish you’re making your way towards the couch before plopping down.

“Lay down would you,” before you can respond you feel a tug on your leg pulling you so that you were laying. Suna maneuvers himself so that his head rests between your legs as he turns on the game. You hand instinctively makes its way to play in his hair.

“Can you at least tell me happy birthday,” you tease only to be met with a light smack against your thigh and his mumble of he’d think about it. You’re not sure how long it took but soon the fullness in your belly, comfort from him and clicking of his controller lulled you back to sleep.

—-

“Have fun. Or don’t, since you’re leaving me here.” You let out a laugh as you look as Suna from the mirror’s reflection.

“Should’ve told me happy birthday”

“I ordered you breakfast.”

After putting the finishing touches on your appearance you turn to the body practically hovering over you to ask you how you look.

“I guess you look kind of good.” He ignored the roll of your eyes in favor of locking his arms around your waist as his lips dip to ghost along the side of your neck. “Hand me my phone.” You comply reaching into his pocket to hand him the device.

You aren’t surprised by his next action. You feel one of his hands settle on your butt and you hear the click of his camera. You have no doubt that his face is purposely covered as the reflection clearly shows his hand with a handful of your ass. (You later find out the pic is on his priv story captioned: leaving for a birthday lunch without me)

“Be safe.” The words are mumbled against your neck as you nod, hand massaging his scalp. Pulling away the two of you do your secret handshake (one that had started as a dumb joke) before heading out.

—-

It’s late afternoon when you get back to Suna still playing the game. You don’t notice the way his eyes swirl with love as you recount a few of the moments from hanging out with your friends. He’d even paused the game to hear you, this time his legs draped over your lap. “Are you tired?”

You pause, thinking for a moment before nodding. “A little. You?” At his nod you tell him you’re just gonna call your parents for a few minutes and that he can head to the room. “I dont want to sleep my birthday away either.”

“I’ll set an alarm”

—-

The sun is beginning to set then you feel someone shaking you to wake up. Your eyes are met with familiar led lights. “Hey get up”

Suna allows you a few moments to shake the grogginess. Your eyes focus and your ears pick up on the music playing quietly throughout the room. Wiping at your eyes you sit up to face Suna. “Rin?”

“I got you something.” With that he motions you to straddle him before hands cup your cheeks and pull your lips to his. You allow yourself to get lost on the moment as his tongue slips past your lips. The two of you spend several moments just getting loss in one another. Your hands pressed firmly against his chest as his slipped down, one running up and down your side. It’s you who pulls away first and your eyes narrow in on the tiniest trail of spit on his lips and the glimmer left behind under the lights.

“Happy birthday (Y/N)”

You almost want to make a joke at the fact that he actually said the words now that your day is more than halfway over. However you’re stopped by the nerves you see starting to pool in his eyes. “Rin?”

“You know I love you right?” Your nod causes him to let out an exhale you’re sure he didn’t even know he was holding. You pick up on the slightest whisper of ‘good’ before he reaches over, careful not to knock you off to pull out a box. “Open it?”

Your’e curiosity only grows as he hands you the box with shaky hands. Your attempt to meet his eyes fail as he’s preoccupied himself with a loose strand on your shorts. 

“Rin-” he only looks up at your gasp. Tossing the box to the side, you carefully hold the object up.

“Do you like it?” You don’t miss the feel of his fingers nervously druming on your skin and you almost want to hit him.

“Of course i do, what the fuck,” you exclaim voice getting choked up. You hold the gold chain up, running your fingers over the letters. His initials. You wordlessly hand him the jewelry for him to put it on, and you can’t help but feel warm inside. You let him quietly clasp the chain and adjust it so that the letters were resting perfectly.

“You look good.” Befor you could lean forward to connect your lips again he stops you. “I want to show you something else.” You notice him reach for the chain he typically wears. Its to thin, and practically permanent on him, that you rarely notice it anymore. Pulling the jewelry from under his shirt you notice an object dangling from it. A ring. 

He instructs you to look at the object and upon further inspection you’re speechless

‘love you i guess’ along with your initials are engraved on the inside. 

“Its in your handwriting. I already have a chain, but wanted to keep something about you with me too.” 

This time you embrace him in a hug, mumbling countless “i love yous” (he better take advantage of soft you. it won’t be happening again for a while)

“Trying to romance me into some forever kind of shit huh?” you tease happily.

“Of course. Who else would go half on a PS5 for me”

[karlajoyner]

Can you do a smut piece with Owen where he takes you to Hawaii and you guys meet up with the cast and everything, but then later that night he takes you back to the bedroom to show you some real fun. Ik you get this for a while, can’t wait for your other work love your writing style.

So Needy (Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader)

A/n: Hey guys I hope you like this one! I'm sorry I haven't posted in over a week I had a lot of shit to do but I have a few imagines done and I'm working on the rest of my requests so I could hopefully open them up again soon. Also Alex and Reggie now have last names and I’m 1000% freaking the fuck out because it was the last thing I was expecting . I’m gonna go back eventually and put them in all my imagines. And yeah....totally didn’t make me go back and watch the show for the 12th time. It’s a problem....it’s fine. Anyways Enjoy! (Sorry for any typos I always fuck up but I’ll go back and fix them later)

Requested by: @jjbassett (Tumblr)

Warnings: Smut! (18+)

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I walked into the airport tiredly. Thankful it was at least somewhat empty.

"Owen why'd you book our flights so damn early?" I asked my boyfriend who was walking to my left.

"I didn't book them. Charlie did" He stated my gaze moving to the boy on my right.

"I should have known. No one but a psychopath would book a flight at the ass crack of dawn" I spoke earning a laugh from both boys.

"To be fair I thought you were a morning person y/n/n"

"Oh I am. When it's 8:00 o'clock and past that. I do not enjoy having to wake up at 4:00 o'clock in the morning to get ready. I mean seriously Charles it's still fucking dark out" I pointed out.

"Oh man. Alright I'll take that into consideration"

"Be lucky you didn't have to deal with her when the first alarm rang" Owen said making me glare at him.

"I love you baby. You know that but you just get so grumpy" He spoke making me roll my eyes.

"Did you just compare me to one of the seven dwarves? Fine. Alright. I get a little grumpy. But that's only because I have to be the big spoon too"

"Oh my god man your the little spoon" Charlie laughed as we arrived to security.

"You swore you wouldn't tell anybody" Owen whisper shouted.

"Yeah well that's just me being grumpy. Sorry babe"

"No it's cool. It's cool. Just wait until tonight" He whispered the last part in my ear before letting me go ahead.

"Seriously Charlie a knife? You tried to bring a knife on a plane?!" I asked exasperatedly as we boarded the plane.

"I didn't know they wouldn't let me bring it"

"I think it's a given that they wouldn't let you bring it dude"

"Yeah yeah"

"Well paybacks a bitch huh Charlie?" I joked handing Owen my carry on so he could put it above our seats.

"Haha y/n. I'd like you to remember that your stuck on this flight with me for the next few hours so I'd be a little nicer"

"I just can't wait to tell Jer about this" I said taking my seat next to the window. Owen taking the one to my right.

"Owennn your girlfriends being mean" Charlie complained earning a laugh from the blonde.

"I'm sorry Charlie but I can't do anything. The more she's mean to you the less she's mean to me" Owen said making me giggle.

"He's not wrong" I grinned intertwining our fingers and placing a quick kiss to Owen's cheek.

"That's all I get" He questioned making me playfully roll my eyes before pulling him in for a sweet kiss on the lips.

"Better?" I asked pulling away.

"Much" He smiled widely.

"You guys better not do that the whole plane ride"

"We won't. Gotta save something for tonight man" Owen joked. My elbow instinctively shoving itself into his arm as Charlie began to laugh.

"Ouch"

"Funny how you think your getting some tonight" I muttered.

"Am I not?"

"We'll see" I responded putting in my AirPods as the two boys began to conversate.

"Do you see your bag?" I questioned my boyfriend. We'd been stuck at baggage claim for ages trying to find Owens green suitcase.

"Nope"

"Owen" I groaned.

"There! There it is!" He shouted excitedly.

"Oh yes!" Charlie cheered as the bag reached our area.

"Let's get out of here"

"And just like that I hate airports" I said as we walked past random strangers.

"Y/n!" I heard a familiar voice shout. My eyes quickly spotting the source.

"Tori!" I screamed letting go of my boyfriends hand and running towards the girl who had her arms wide open.

I giggled engulfing her into a tight hug before turning to the rest of the group behind her.

"Kenny!" Owen and Charlie greeted their director.

"It's good to see you guys too" Jeremy spoke up.

"Care!"

"Y/n I'm so glad your here"

"I'm glad to be here. It's always good to see you too Jer" I spoke hugging him after I hugged Carolynn.

"Finally someone who appreciates me" He said making me throw my head back in laughter.

"To the hotel!"

"So what took you guys so long?" Jeremy asked as the 7 of us lounged around the pool.

"Yeah we were at terminal like 40 minutes after your flight landed.

"It's a long story"

"Speaking of stories" I smirked looking at Charlie.

"Don't" He warned pointing a finger at me.

"I didn't say anything" I giggled, back stroking away from the group.

"So me and Care we're thinking of doing some shopping tomorrow you in?" Tori questioned swimming with me.

"One hundred percent" I said glancing at Owen who was laid back on one of the lounge chairs near the pools edge. He looked so good with his swim trunks and his damp hair.

"So then we decided we'd just save it for Saturday before Care left" Toris voice brought me back to reality.

"I'm sorry what?" I asked.

"Did you hear anything I said?"

"I did not" I muttered.

"And why is that?" She asked teasingly poking my side.

"Because my boyfriend is sitting a few feet away and he looks like that" I internally groaned.

"I say you go get him" She grinned at me.

"Not yet" I mischievously smiled swimming back towards the group.

"It's so cold" I stated getting out the pool and grabbing my beach towel. Wrapping it around me.

"Aww come here" Owen said opening his arms widely.

I simpered making my way over to him and laying down in his embrace.

His arms immediately wrapping themselves around my soaked body. His bare chest coming into contact with my partially covered one.

"You guys are too cute" Tori teased.

"Not cuter than us though right?" Carolynn joked hugging Tori.

"No. Never" She responded making us all laugh.

"I'd like to propose a toast" Kenny spoke holding up his drink.

"To friends"

"To family" Charlie followed.

"To love" Owen said making heart skip a beat as he lifted his drink in the air.

"Cheers" They spoke in unison lifting their drinks to their lips. Owens beautiful green eyes never leaving mine.

"I love you"

"I love you too Owen" I whispered placing a chaste kiss to his lips.

"Why don't we head back to the hotel for some real fun?" He suggested quietly making sure no one heard.

His hand running up and down my arm soothingly.

"Hmm is that your attempt to get me into bed?"

"Why? Is it working?" He asked making me smirk.

"So we're doing dinner tomorrow night right guys?" I asked sitting up straddling the boy beneath me. Rejoining the conversation our friends were having.

"Yeah. Kenny was telling us about this great place his friend recommended" Jeremy explained as I shifted a bit to get comfortable.

A pair of hands landing on hips.

"Oh really? Tell me more about his place Kenny" I said moving again hearing a small groan escape Owens lips as our thin clothed fronts rubbed against each others.

A wicked smirk forming on my face as we listened in on Kennys description of the place.

"It sounds fantastic. Doesn't it sound fantastic Owen?" I questioned my boyfriend shuffling again.

"Yeah. Yup sounds great. Listen it getting late guys. I think we're gonna head back to the hotel" He voiced sitting up as well.

"It's only 6:30 dude"

"Yeah but we just wanna have time to shower and get dinner. You know together. As a couple"

"Right.....well have fun you two" Kenny said awkwardly as I stood up along with Owen.

"Oh I'm pretty sure they will" Charlie joked causing me to snicker at the boy.

I quickly collected the remaining of my pool things saying my fair well goodbyes to our friends. Or tried.

Owen was clearly in a rush to get to the hotel.

"Don't leave me" Tori said hugging me one more time before we left.

"Sorry to break it to you but she's gotta go" Owen said removing the girls arms from my body and pulling me away.

"Bye!!" I waved to the group who were all cackling at Owens behavior.

"You didn't have to be so pushy" I muttered as we walked into the hotel lobby.

"Pushy? Please you knew what you were doing" He whisper yelled dragging me along the hallways towards the elevator.

"And what was I doing?" I asked stepping in immediately feeling my back pressed against the cold wall.

"You tell me" He whispered inching his face towards mine. I watched as he pushed the button to our floor before looking back at me.

I took initiative crashing our lips together. Feeling his hand land firmly on my waist as the elevator came to a halt signifying we were on our floor.

"Come on" I spoke rather harshly dragging him towards our room.

"Who's being pushy now?"

"Owen I swear to god if you say another word I will lock you outside and make myself cum got it?"

"Yes mam" He said taking my bag while I unlocked the door with my key card.

Immediately upon opening the door I felt the back of my bikini come undone the top falling to the ground.

Turning around I saw the childlike smirk on my boyfriends face as he shut the door behind us. Making sure to lock it.

I smirked back with the same look on my face. Biting my lip in anticipation as Owen moved forward wrapping his arms around my body.

"Your so-" I didn't let him finish as I crashed my lips onto his wanting to feel him closer.

He was quick to respond deepening the kiss as he back me up onto the queen sized bed in the middle of the suite.

"I can't even get a word out geez" He joked pulling away.

"I'm sorry baby what were you gonna say?" I teased as his body hovered over mine. My body prepped up on my elbows to get a better view of his face.

"I was gonna say your so needy"

"I'm the needy one? Really?"

"Well it's obviously not me"

"Care to test that theory?" I suggested watching his face scrunch up in confusion.

I pecked his lips one more time before using all my strength to flip us over so he was on his back. I moved my body over his so I was straddling him now. A grin appearing on my face.

"I'm gonna make you feel so good right now. I just need you to do what I say. Got it?" I whispered watching him nod his head rapidly, clearly intrigued at my proposal.

I leaned down kissing him passionately his hands finding my waist with ease. Slowly grinding down onto him earning a moan from the blonde. I bit his lip as we roughly fought for dominance.

Owen letting me win as soon as I began to palm him through his swim trunks.  I pulled away moving down slowly until I was in front of him on my knees.

"Oh fuck baby. You look so fucking beautiful" He bit his lip taking a hold of my hair.

"No. You can't touch me. That's the only rule" I stated pushing his hand away.

"I can't? Why not?"

"Because I said so. Now are you gonna let me handle your little problem here or not?" I teased him, rubbing my hand against the fabric of his shorts.

"Fuck okay baby. Just- just do something" He pleaded. I smirked knowing I had it in the bag now.

"Take them off" I demanded. Sitting back as he removed his shorts along with his boxers letting his dick spring free.

I took the shaft pumping it a few times. Teasing the tip, even swirling my tongue around it earning a loud groan from Owen himself.

I slowly started pumping his length before placing my mouth on it. Beginning to bob my head up and down, feeling Owen thrust his body upward in attempt to get more of himself inside my mouth. His fist balling up and clenching the bedsheets tightly.

I hummed in response as moans escaped the boys mouth while I sucked him off. Eyeing him closely through my eyelashes seeing his head tilted back and his eyes were screwed shut made me even more excited for what was coming.

"I'm so close y/n" As soon as he said that I pulled away from him with a pop watching as his eyes shot open.

"W-what the hell?" He asked clearly confused.

"I'm just tired. Think it's time for bed no?" I questioned going to pick up my bikini top.

"No- No what the fuck babe" He spoke from behind me.

"Well I just th-" My words were cut off by a yelp as I was tossed back onto the bed.

"We're not done here" He spoke lunging on top of me quickly pressing his lips onto mine.

I sighed contently wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him closer as we made out.

"Who's the needy one now?" I whispered pulling away earning a scowl from him as he undid the strings of my bikini bottoms.

I shivered as I felt his tip align itself at my entrance. He didn't hesitate to push himself into me immediately filling me up. Something he'd never failed to do before.

I moaned as he began to move at a rather hasty pace. Not that I was complaining.

I pulled him back down making our lips meet once more while the noise of our bodies colliding echoed through the room.

"Faster" I mumbled into his mouth.

A familiar feeling pulling at the pit of my stomach. My orgasm becoming very close as Owen picked up speed. My legs wrapped around him as we struggled to stay in place.

"Owen" I moaned out as I came all over him. His orgasm hitting seconds later.

"Shit" He panted as he pulled out of me. Our liquids spilling out onto the comforter.

"Your calling for new sheets" I stated trying to regain my breath.

"That was so worth it baby" He spoke pecking my lips before getting off of me to go to the bathroom.

I smiled as he walked out with a towel, coming over to clean me up.

"I love Hawaii" He said making me giggle.

"Do you now? I wonder why?" I joked sitting up. Coming face to face with my boyfriend.

"But I love you more"

"Say more things like that and we'll be in bed the whole week" I spoke wrapping my arms around his neck. Giggling as he pushed me back onto the bed once more.

————

Up Next: Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Alex Mercer x Male Reader

Luke Patterson x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Jeremy Shada x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Reggie Peters x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Charlie Gillespie x Reader

Carrie Wilson x Reader

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@lolychu @headheartbellarke @bookish0918 @kcd15 @ifilwtmfc @moviesbooksandfandoms @lovesanimals @lavender-writer @kaitieskidmore1 @morganayennefertyrell @iloveteenwolf @ghostofmgg @jammi13 @theravenclawlife

[adg1115]

The Club Princess

After my little run in with Jax things around the clubhouse seemed more off than normal.  I tried to keep myself as far away from Jax as possible.  I was angry more with myself than him.  I knew what living this life would entail and yet I am still here.  I may have overreacted at the situation, dramatic if you will.  I have been attracted to Jax since my hormones decided to notice the beautiful men around me.  So my hormones may have been in overdrive with that little spanking incident.  I wasn’t thinking straight.  I mean who would after that?

Dani had been bugging me about what I possibly would want to do once I was free of bar duty but to be honest I had no idea what I wanted.  I mostly wanted a chance or choice to do something else.  Dani asked me to come work with her not as a dancer but behind the bar.  Another place, same bar wench - no thank you. 

It was another Saturday night at the Clubhouse: music blaring, half naked women all around, dunk men, and me behind the bar.  I plastered a fakish smile on my face.  Don’t get me wrong I do love the club and didn’t mind the bar it was just another night, same routine. 

“Ready for another one?” I asked as Opie sat down on one of the stools.  

“Yeah I can use another one.”

“Rough day?” 

“You could say rough week,” Opie said, cutting his eyes to mine like he knew what I was talking about.  I turned to get his beer and placed it down in front of him.  He just stared at me like I could read his mind. And everyone said women were confusing as fuck. 

“What?!” I screamed at him.  Not that he could really tell the difference in volume with as loud as they kept the clubhouse.

Opie just shook his head at me laughing, “You have no fucking clue what you do to that man.  Give him a break princess and talk to him. Forgive him. Fuck him.  Whatever you need to do to make it right.  He's miserable and has been taking it out on all of us.  So for the love of God and the club, fix it.” Opie took a long drink from his beer and then left me at the bar with nothing but my thoughts.  

Jax was miserable. Highly doubted that.  I have never seen him miserable over someone since Tara left his ass.  Not even when his drugged out ex wife left him with a baby to raise.  He had an impenetrable force field around him. I glanced over to where the man in question was sitting with other guys from the club and croweaters around him.  He didn’t look miserable to me.  In fact, he looked quite comfortable with a g-string covered ass on his lap.  He threw his head back and laughed at something someone has said.  As he lowered his head his eyes locked with mine.  I knew I should look away but I just couldn’t.  He had me in a spell with those deep blue eyes.  He tapped the croweater on the leg and motioned for her to get up.  Fuck.  I really didn’t want to talk to him.  I wanted to talk to him so bad. I wanted him to forget about our conversation. I wanted to lay back across his lap.

“Hey.” God just a simple hey and I was ready to forget our little argument, jump this bar, and hump his leg like a desperate dog looking for attention.

Get it the fuck together, y/n. “Hey Jax.” Calm. Sweating. Cool. Gonna throw up. Collected. Freaking out. 

“Can I get another one?”

“Yeah of course,” I let out with a sigh.  This is crazy.  I grabbed a beer and asked, “Can we talk?”

He took a sip and raised his eyebrows.  “Yeah we can do that.” 

“Maybe somewhere out here so it doesn’t get out of hand?” Fucking smooth, y/n. 

“Yeah I’ll get someone to cover for you.   Meet me there,” he said pointing to a table in the corner by the pool table.  It was far back enough that no one would bother us but still in the open so I wouldn’t end up back across his knees. 

I grabbed two beers and headed to the table, my body shaking the whole time.  I have no idea why I was so nervous.  This was Jax, what’s the worst that could happen.  I piss him off and he kicks me out?  Doubtful.  Piss him off and he never talks to me again? Didn’t see that happening.  Throw myself at him? Yeah that's more likely. 

“What’s that face for?” Jax whispered in my ear as he came around the table.  The goosebumps immediately formed. 

“Oh, yeah nothing.  Just thinking.” About us doing naughty things.

“Hmmm thinking? About what?”

“I have a few things I want to say so please let me get them all out then you can yell at me, kick me out, whatever you plan to do.” Jax lowered his brows and frowned at me.

“Y/N….” I held up my hand to stop him.  I had things to say and I knew once I started it would be verbal diarrhea and everything would come out but it was for the best, we could move on. 

“Let me do this.” With a nod from Jax I continued, “I’m sorry.  I overreacted to everything.  Jax you and the club have been nothing but amazing to me and for that I could never repay you.  I am so grateful that you take care of me in exchange for me working at the bar.  But Jax I’ve done this for so long with nothing else.  No future.  I want something that makes me truly happy.  That I wake up in the morning and I have this energy flowing through me. That if I don't do this one thing, I’ll literally explode.  I used to have that with the bar but now it's more like a chore than a thrill.  I don’t want to end up behind the bar for the rest of my life.  I love you guys with all my heart.  And in this case it’s one hundred percent me and not you.

I’m not looking to become a croweater and fuck everyone I see but I would like to meet a nice guy, go on dates, to feel like I’m attractive for once in my fucking life.  I know guys want to fuck me, I’ve been propositioned more than once but I want something lasting. You hurt me when you said that.  Like you don’t even know me.  When have I thrown myself at all the dick running around here? Never.  Oh God, am I making this worse? You look pissed off.” I was screwing this up.

In a deep voice I have never heard from Jax he replied, “No continue because then I have some things to say.”

Shit this is not how I wanted this to go. “So anyway Dani asked me to come work with her…”

“That is not fucking happening.” 

“...but I told her no.  I want something else besides being behind a bar. I wouldn’t fucking dance Jax.” 

“I wouldn’t let you.” This overgrown fucking man child.

“It wouldn’t be your choice but that is besides the point.  I have been thinking about what I wanted to do and I was thinking of maybe taking a few classes at the college to maybe see what I like.  I took those computer classes senior year.  Remember? And I really enjoyed that.  So maybe.  I’m rambling.  The main point is I’m sorry.  I overreacted.  Plus that spanking had me feeling very very confused.” I ended with a laugh.

“You done princess?”  When I nodded he continued. “First I'm sorry. I should have never insinuated that you wanted to be a clubwhore but you pushed my last fucking button.”  When he saw that I was about to fucking rip into him he held up his hand. “It’s my turn.  I know you probably better than you know yourself. I know you wouldn’t fuck just any random dude.  I know this but you have no idea what you do to me princess and that is all my fault.  I want you to accomplish and get all that you want out of life but I’ve been selfish since day one with you.  I have this connection to you that I can’t break.  I told everyone to stay away from you.  I stuck you behind that bar so I knew where you were at all times and that you were safe.  But after our last little argument and talking with some of the guys it's time for things to change.  So look up what you want to take at Charming Community.  We will work things out here.”  Jax gave me a smirk like he knew all the secrets and wouldn’t be sharing with me anytime soon. 

“Jax I need to talk to you, now,” Clay called out. 

Jax hung his head and let out a breath.  “We aren’t finished talking about this,” he said standing up and walking right next to me.  He leaned down to my ear, “But know this that spanking didn’t confuse me at all. In fact, it made me realize how fantastic it will be.”

I swallowed and whispered back, “How fantastic what will be.”

Jax kissed the side of my face and whispered, “When I finally get to fuck you.”

Tag list: @ames2024 @samxslaughter @notquitecannon @alievans007