#shit's fucked up yall i really need assistance
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I'M PREGNANT AND NEED TO NOT BE. PLEASE HELP
fuck okay so I can't believe I'm making this post, but here we are.
despite birth control and my best efforts, i'm pregnant.
i can't handle this right now for a lot of reasons-- i'm going through a divorce, i'm deeply in debt due to the marriage i'm trying to end, barely staying afloat as it is working multiple jobs. i'm multiply disabled and so far have been EXTREMELY sick every day to the point of being unable to function. i don't have the time, money, physical and mental health, or resources to deal with a pregnancy, let alone a baby.
on top of all that, i have an infection they can't treat while i am pregnant, so they're trying to get this terminated as quickly as possible. i have an appointment set for Tuesday, 3/28/23 at 2pm.
my insurance does not cover abortions except in proven cases of rape or incest. all this to say, I need to somehow scrape together $600 by Tuesday for the abortion itself, plus cost of transportation. it's also been difficult to eat lately and i've been living off yogurt and the few other specific things i can keep down, so help restocking the fridge would be amazing.
i am of course gratefully accepting donations but am also just getting started as a content creator and i'm happy to do custom pics/vids etc as well.
c*shtag/v*nmo are both $wanderingivy
contact me privately for more info
please boost if you can
#ivy.txt#financial#please help#mutual aid#abortion mention#probably gonna get harassed for this honestly but i'm that desperate#shit's fucked up yall i really need assistance
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Late Night Healing Sessions
A/N: Installment two of the Chaos Trio aka the continuation to Friends?! This chapter is kind of Frank-centric so hope yall enjoy! Sorry this took so long to get done, my muse has been dead for some time now.
Warnings: Wound tending, cursing, it’s pretty tame.
Pairing: Eventual Matt x Reader x Frank
"Red."
"Castle."
"I ain't been shooting anyone lately so what brings you here?" Frank looked Matt over and raised a brow. He was posted up on a rooftop, just watching and listening. Matt had popped up next to him though and if Frank didn't know any better, he'd say Matt was nervous.
"Can I ask you something?" Now Frank definitely knew something was strange but, figuring it was probably something vigilante related, he shrugged and nodded.
"How did you know Maria was it for you?" Frank choked and Matt had the decency to look sheepish even with his mask still on.
"You comin to me for love advice, Red?" Matt sighed and tugged his helmet off, running a hand through his hair.
"No. Maybe." Matt growled. "I don't know, okay?"
"Is this about your friend from a couple weeks ago." Matt's sudden silence and the way he froze told Frank everything. "I don't know why you haven't gone for it. Even you, a blind man, should be able to see that she cares about you."
"Just because she cares about me, doesn't necessarily mean she wants more. I mean, she doesn't even really know who I am."
"And whose fault is that?" Matt grit his teeth. "Yeah, exactly. You closed the door, not her. From what I saw, she'd be very interested in taking things further. And you clearly are too, if the way you put her in bed says anything."
Matt huffed and started pacing.
"But what if I put her in danger?"
"Sounded like she could take care of herself. And if the way she stood up to me says anything, she definitely ain't afraid of much."
"That's what I'm afraid of. I'm half convinced she'd follow me every night but there seems like there's something holding her back. I can't place it, but there's more to her."
"And there's more to you. Maybe if you let her see that side of you, she'll show you her secrets too."
"All of this doesn't negate the fact that I don't want her in danger because of me."
"Look. I can't tell you what to do, but I can tell you this. Life is a bitch. It'll take everything from you in the blink of an eye. But I wouldn't still be here today if it weren't for the memories of the good times I carry with me. Maria, she might not have approved of what I'm doing but she would have understood it. She was there through all the tours and the night terrors and the bad days. I wouldn't be who I am if I hadn't had that support."
"... Thanks, Frank." Matt nodded his head to Frank and slipped his mask on. He headed for the edge of the rooftop and just as he was about to jump, Frank spoke again.
"Hey, Red? Don't wait too long. Someone else might come along if you do."
"Yeah, yeah. Goodnight, Castle. Stay out of trouble, will you?"
"No promises, Red."
~~~
The uneven knocking at your door woke you from an uneasy sleep. All night you'd felt that something was off and so you'd tried to stay awake to see if Daredevil needed your assistance. When he hadn't shown by his normal time, you'd laid down on the couch and passed out. Now though, you jolted awake and up, rushing towards the door.
"I'm coming, D, I'm- What the fuck?" Standing at your door was not Daredevil, but Frank Castle. "What are you doing here?"
He looked like shit. Blood wept from a cut on his forehead and down his face. Speaking of blood, you realized the rest of him was covered in it.
Rather than answer your question, Frank swayed and hissed as his body caught the door frame. You winced at the blood he left behind but brought your eyes back to the man in front of you.
"Castle…?" That seemed to startle him into awareness enough for him to speak.
"Didn't know where else t' go. Need help, please?" Your brows shot up and you immediately opened your door wider.
"Come on, let's get you inside." As soon as you put your hands on him to help support his weight, he dropped. You cursed as he almost brought you down with him but you managed to keep your footing.
"Fuck." You hissed, trying to figure out how you were supposed to get this massive man inside your house. Putting both hands under his shoulders, you pulled with all your strength.
He barely moved. The movement also drew a moan from him and you winced in sympathy. Moving around so you could face him, you gingerly cupped his face.
"Hey. Hey, Frank, wake up. I can't get you inside without your help. Come on. You can do it."
You kept coaxing him and silently hoping none of your neighbors chose to look out their windows anytime soon.
"Come on, Castle. Don't make me slap you."
"You wouldn' hit an injured person." He slurred and you nearly sobbed in relief.
"Don't try me. Now, come on. I need you to help me get your ass inside." You pulled on his shoulders for good measure and watched as he then forced himself up onto his feet. You stood with him and carefully began leading him inside. It took the two of you entirely too long and the way Frank got paler and paler the more the two of you moved, did not sit well with you.
"What the hell happened to you?" You wondered aloud.
"Mob. Irish. Motherfuckers hit hard when they want to." You sighed and rolled your eyes in frustration.
"Of course. You and Red are gonna be the death of me."
"Mm. Red. He talk to you yet?" You furrowed your brow but figured it was good to keep him talking. You settled him on the couch and rushed to grab your first aid supplies.
"About what, Castle? Keep talking."
"Shouldn't."
"Why not?"
"He wouldn't like it." You huffed and began working on cutting Frank out of his shirt. He started to go lax on you and you quickly shook him.
"Hey, hey! Keep talking, Castle. Why wouldn't he like it?"
"'Cause he likes you and doesn't wanna admit it." Frank slurred out and you felt butterflies erupt in your stomach. You ignored them in favor of starting to stitch Frank's wounds.
"Oh yeah? He tell you that or are you just guessing?"
"He told me. But it's also obvious as shit. The two of you aren't subtle." Your face burned from his comment, but he was still talking and you weren't going to stop him.
"Told him to quit bein a scaredy cat. Life's too short for that shit. Also told him he better figure it out before someone else comes along."
You half listened as you worked to stitch up the worst of his wounds. He was a mess of knife slashes and stabs and you had to hope that nothing out of your limited experience was wrong. Frank was starting to fade again, so you gently shook his shoulder.
"I need you to stay awake, Frank. Keep talking to me."
"About wha?"
"Anything. Tell me… tell me about your family, Frank." It was quiet for long enough that you thought you'd overstepped but then Frank started talking.
He told you about Maria and Lisa and Frank Jr. He told you stories and little moments and your heart ached as you realized just how much this man loved his family… and just how much he had lost.
Frank managed to stay awake the entire time you worked on him, but just barely. You sent up a silent thank you to his family. They're memory had kept him alive another night.
Sitting back, you pulled your gloves off and patted Frank absent-mindedly on the arm.
"Alright, I've fixed everything I can. You know the rules from last time but to be honest, you might need longer than a couple hours. So stay as long as you need." You told him, standing and wobbling because of how long you'd been kneeling. A weak hand shot out to stabilize you and you huffed a laugh.
"Don't worry about me, Castle. Worry about yourself."
"'M fine. Just need to sleep a few hours and I'll be right as rain." You jokingly rolled your eyes and stepped away from him. Taking all the dirty materials you used, you threw it all out and then went to the sink to wash your hands.
"Sure, Castle. Whatever you say."
"Oh, so I'm Castle again, huh? Thought I was Frank now."
"Frank is reserved for almost dying only." You teased from your spot at the sink and you heard him chuckle then hiss. "Sorry. Seriously, get some sleep. And I mean it when I say stay as long as you need.”
“Thanks.” He murmured. In the ensuing silence, you assumed he fell asleep. Keeping as quiet as possible, you cleaned up as much of the mess as you could. Finally, once your place was relatively clean, you checked on him one final time. As you had guessed, he was fast asleep. Deciding to keep an eye on him, you settled into one of the chairs you had catty corner to the couch. Pulling a blanket over yourself, you settled in to get a restless night of sleep.
Throughout what was left of the night, you checked on Frank several times. The amount of blood he’d lost was worrisome and the last thing you wanted was him dying on your couch. When you finally gave up on sleep, it had been about 5 hours since Frank had fallen asleep. Getting up and stretching, you headed to the bathroom. After brushing your teeth and running a hand over your hair to tame it some, you headed back into the living room. You froze in the hallway when you realized Frank was no longer on the couch. Instead he was standing in front of your coffee maker, sleepily pressing buttons.
“Castle, what the actual fuck are you doing up right now?” You scolded.
“It’s mornin’. I need to get going.” You rolled your eyes and walked over to him, gently nudging him out of the way and getting the coffee going.
“I swear, you’re just as bad as D.” Frank grunted and leaned against the counter as the two of you waited for the coffee to brew. He seemed like he wanted to say something so you kept quiet and let him get his thoughts together.
“About last night…”
“What about it?”
“What I told you. About Red. I shouldn’t have said anything. What goes on between the two of you is none of my business.” You raised an eyebrow and turned to face him fully.
“It obviously is some of your business. D trusted you enough to come to you and talk. That’s gotta mean something.”
"Yeah and then I broke that trust by telling you." Frank rubbed the back of his neck. "If it's all the same to you, can we pretend I never said anything?"
"Of course. It doesn't matter much because I still doubt D will say anything to me. He's too guarded." You shrugged and poured yourself and Frank a cup of coffee, passing his to him before doctoring yours to your liking.
"He's got his reasons. This life ain't easy." Frank said, a dark look on his face. You were quiet for several minutes before you spoke again.
"Did you kill them?"
"Who?"
"Everyone involved in your family's death."
"...Yeah. Yeah, I did." Frank was surprised when you smiled.
"Good."
Frank decided then that if Matt didn't make a move soon… he might be the someone else he warned Matt about.
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Ahti may be all goofy looking and very sweet in-game but in a short film??? Holy shit gramps gonna make me whimper in Finnish, perkele saatana.
Anyway what do you think of him!! What's his connection with Casey?? So many thoughts!
I. LOVE. LOVE. LOOOOOOOOVE. AHTI. [platonically]
so mind yall i got into Remedy via Control in earlymid 2021 and my Finnish friend played it for me so i got the little insights of what he was saying [which most of the time still made no fuckin sense] and i. fucking. LOVED Ahti. my boyfriend kept commenting on how he's a lot nicer in AW2 but he's still a big sweetheart in Control! the nightmare the Hiss puts Jesse through where Ahti kept showing up outside the Director's office encouraging her to keep going and in the last loop [or spiral i guess] he goes "i knew i picked a good assistant". and him literally telling Jesse in the beginning of the game that if the Board didn't pick her he would fucking kill them like.............. Ahti may talk to Alan and Casey like they're his old friends but he talks to Jesse like he's her actual grandpa and he's so so so sweet and silly and one of the reasons i'm deciding to kin Jesse among other things
also his connection to Casey is not what i expected at all. i thought that if they were to meet it would be in-game and maybe he would refer to Casey as a different name [maybe as Sam]. i didnt expect him to apparently know a FINNISH 60s ACTOR VERSION OF CASEY. i mean who knows if they even actually met, maybe that was Scratch fucking with the story and mocking Alan like i mentioned in the last ask. or maybe he DID know a Finnish Casey but he just wasn't an actor and instead was an actual detective and that's why he asked him about the FBC, and Scratch just used their connection to each other and made it seem like it happened in a movie instead of in real life. that honestly seems more plausible, cause honestly if the film really did exist then i would think the FBC have it kept away somewhere and maybe have a document of it but there's literally nothing.
i hope in the Night Springs DLC, if you do get to play as Dark Place Casey, that you get him to meet Ahti. i really wanna know what he says and thinks about him and ESPECIALLY what name he refers to him as. or better yet, Ahti meeting Dark Place Sam. i need that SO bad.
#the bun answers#alan wake#alan wake 2#alan wake ii#control game#control remedy#control 2019#ahti the janitor#alex casey#aleksi kesä#remedyverse#remedy entertainment#remedy connected universe
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SCARA OMO DELIVERY🎉🎉🎉
I have so fucking many hcs for this mf lets go💪💪💪😈😈😈
Desperation hcs
Bros got a tiny mf bladder, raiden didnt see any need to give him a big bladder
Even though hes small he pees like alot of piss, like it would go on for more than 30s
He bounces his legs
He squeezes his thighs together
He also crosses his legs
Fidgets alot when alone
Gets off to piss 🤷♂️
He holds it when hes by himself
He would only ask to go to the bathroom if he genuinely could tolerate the person or if he could trust them to not make fun of him
Even when he does ask, its probably too late
VERY squirmy if he was by himself
Wetting hcs
Slow wetter
He leaks. ALOT
He would probably wear a diaper if his pride let him
Give him some tea and he will probably have a small wet spot on his crotch in a few hours
He likes wetting, but only does it on purpose when hes 100% certain hes alone/can get away with it (eg, swimming, or got splashed w alot of water, home alone)
A little press to his full-ish bladder and hes gone 🤷♂
If he pissed himself around people he doesnt trust he'd actually go insane or probably murder them
He moans/whines when he pees
Relationship omo
If his s/o is into piss, he'd 100% drink alot of tea and make it obvious he needs to piss if they're alone together
If he had to piss during smexy times he'd probably get pounded until he pissed himself 🤷♂️ i dont make the rules
If he got injured badly, his s/o would likely not want him to get up, and that doesn't really go hand in hand with having a small bladder, so he would probs piss himself
Same goes with if he was sick, AND if he was sick he'd likely sneeze alot right?? And when you sneeze when u gotta piss real bad, you leak right??? Yall already know where im going w this one
If he was on a date and had to piss, he would probably wait until the other person excused themself and he would make a quick break for the bathroom
But if he didnt get a chance to piss, there's a good chance his bladder would just give up
Like he would go like "SHIT FUCK BALLS DONT LOOK AT ME PLEASE"
Peeing in odd places
Cant really pee up against a wall (trans mfs rise 💪💪💪)
He would pee in a bush
He would pee anywhere tbh 🤷♂️
If hes desperate enough he'd pop a squat behind a building or something (only if he was by himself, he could never bring himself to piss with someone he knew)
He would be a victim of pissing himself while taking off his underwear
He would 100% pee in a bottle if he could
Would pee in a bin
He pees in the shower (me too)
Probably peed on a towel before
Bro would pee in a cup if he was desperate enough
Omo tropes he would fit into
Tied up (yes im weird xoxo)
Fear wetting
Bedwetting
Trapped somewhere
Peeing in front of a toilet
Holding contests
Crying/tearing up
Only one toilet
Humiliation
Bladdershy
Assisted peeing
Swimming
No available bathroom
Drunk
Panic attack wetting
I will probs write fanfics ab scara pissing himself but anyways 🤷♂️
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Help me get my shit together!
(customary dont tag as d0nati0n or fundrai$er, dont get this nuked lol)
Hey yall, in case you thought I was exaggerating about having to make this here we fucking go :'). Ngl this feels really really weird but I'm having a Bad Time atm and would be really thankful for any help. I'm trying to get some assessments done but the NHS waiting list is literally 9 years long for the specific department I've been referred to. My only other option is going private, which sucks but I need this done ASAP :')
My goal is (read: has to be) £1800 -> for a cost breakdown check the read-more
EDIT: I've changed the goal to just £895 just to take things step by step
to help -> click here
Once I am stable on the medication, I will be able to continue forward with my usual GP and will no longer have to pay for medication.
My family has helped where they can but aren't able/willing to help with this (fuck me I guess :/) I'm currently in the process of finding a job which will help but in the meantime, if you're able to help a disabled, queer jew I would be beyond thankful. For those interested, or if you're curious as to why this is so expensive I've included a cost breakdown beyond the £895 in the read-more.
If it helps sweeten the pot and you're in the UK, send me proof of a dono of £5+ and I can make you a small cross-stitch hoop (about 3in diameter) with a design of your choice - I seem to specialise in Stardew Valley designs and will happily turn your pet into your farm assistant <3
If you don't want to donate through the link, you can tip the blog, or if you can't donate I would really appreciate boosting this so folks who can donate see it.
Breakdown:
Assessment - £895
Follow-ups x4* - £900
Estimated cost of meds - £50 per month (I can squeeze this into my current budget for spending)
* They request 3-4 follow-up appointments, one per month, to titrate meds appropriately, the cheapest option is £225 per appointment. I've set up for 4 here because A. knowing my luck it will be that and B. I would much rather be prepared for this than have to be on the hook for an unexpected £225.
Here is the link to the clinic's fee page for full transparancy.
Again, once I am stable on the medication, I will be able to continue forward with my usual GP and will no longer have to pay for medication.
#mutual aid#help#signal boost#how do you tag these things#help your tumblr elders ive been here for 10ish years now
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I'm truly sorry for sending an ask about seg. I didnt think about any possible stress you may be under especially since you've mentioned you work retail and it's getting to be that hectic time of year. How do you like to destress when it gets to be too much? Do you have any stories about the absolute best/worst customer you've had to deal with? Does the holiday music lift you while working or drive you nuts? Favorite holiday song?
hey you're fine. i'm not upset at any of the anons that sent in asks about the SEG situation. i get it, yall want to talk about it and inform me. i appreciate it. i just had a stressful day and tbh i just don't care about this subject. seeing snc get needless hate over something that was dealt with is just deeply annoying. not to mention bc nothing is gonna happen until after thanksgiving, i would rather we all just wait to hear what gets said until then or straight up ignore SEG than give him more clout.
so, for all the years i've worked in retail, which now is 5... omg ew, i've actually never worked a black friday. first year my dad passed away, and then the past three year i've done overnights so i'm not around customers at all. this is my first time around customers this year, bc i just couldn't do overnights, and honestly... it's not that bad. it's not great, but it's mostly the store i'm working at that's upsetting me rather than the customers, which somehow is always the case anymore lol
i plan to leave as soon as i can. i can't stand the place i'm working in anymore. i pray i don't have to keep working in retail, but we shall see.
how do i like to destress? nap. like i fucking LOVE napping. i think i also have to nap more now bc i don't really drink caffeine anymore. i'll have an occasional soda or ice tea once in a while, but otherwise it's just straight water for me. so i usually just come home and nap. then when i wake up i'll either dance or sing to some emo music (got me like a 14 hour playlist of all my favorite songs) or i'll just watch some youtube vids.
i haven't had too many bad customers, thank god, but the one that always stuck out to me was during the holiday season the first year i work at my current store. so while i haven't worked really any black fridays, i have worked the lead up to christmas multiple times and i swear, i think ppl forget christmas is when it is with the way ppl coming in like the 23 of december buying all the random shit we have left.
so, i was up at the registers, and we have only self check out. i'm assisting ppl when i can and directing the line bc it's basically to the back of the store almost. the thing is, to literally come into the store, you have to pass the registers. so this shouldn't be a surprise to anyone that it's self checkout only. but these two women are next in line and i direct one to an open register. she immediately says "what, i have to do it myself?" i'm not in a good mood bc there is just too many ppl around (and this was pre-pandemic) and i was like "yes ma'am, you have to."
my thing was always if you ask me nicely to help you, i gladly will. but being a bitch to me will basically get you no help whatsoever.
she starts to scan her items, and scans one too many times. she starts yelling "oh my god, i don't know how to do this, i double scanned" loudly, i come over, clear off the extra item and then direct her friend to the next register, which is coincidentally was the one next to her.
the main lady goes back and forth with her friend, saying and cursing "i can't believe i have to fucking do this myself, i don't like this, why the fuck can't they help us." mind you, i work in basically a kid's store. there are plenty of children around. there is no need to be cursing that much, and i say that as someone who does curse a lot.
finally she finishes up and for some reason the register spit out her change really fast so her coins fell on the floor. she picks up one of the coins turns to me, and basically throws it at me and snidely remarks "here you go, since you clearly need it"
i about swung on her, but she's lucky i didn't.
that was really one of the very few times i ever had a bad customer. as for good ones, i think for the most part most of the customers i interact with are either normal or pretty nice. i did one time have to explain to a man what bluetooth was, which is great bc i know so much about it….. and then he told my manager i did an excellent job helping him understand. so that was nice :)
as for the holiday music…. it's 50/50 depending on my mood. sometimes it's not too bad, sometimes it's annoying. bc we play random pop songs (that most of you have probably never heard of) in between the christmas songs. so for every one pop song, we get two to three christmas songs. and we only just recently started getting mariah carey and actual well know christmas songs to play in the store. before, it was like random covers of popular songs, which is very strange to me but whatever lol
and my favorite holiday song… i'm actually gonna list my favorite christmas songs bc i think i have the weirdest taste in them lol
christmas don't be late by alvin and the chipmunks
santa baby by eartha kitt
last christmas by the glee cast
baby it's cold outside by the glee cast
feliz navidad by josé feliciano
obviously mariah carey and michael buble are the top ppl for christmas music. but genuinely… i love these songs more.
a lot of christmas songs make me sad now since my father passed, especially 'i'll be home for christmas'. so sometimes it's a bit hard to listen to christmas music. but i usually hold off on listening to until like the 23rd lol
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Anonymous Asks: "Can we have a smut and spicy story with Jean, please!? I can't get enough of this man!"
Yall are enabling me so much and I love it~
Content: Abuse of power (Jean is your boss), masturbation, workplace sexual harassment, dubcon because of power imbalance, dacryphilia, Jean has a praise kink, oral fingering, facial, explicitly no aftercare because Jean fuckin sucks <3
“If one more thing goes wrong today, I think I’ll fucking explode.” You don’t even have the energy to sound forceful. It’s more of a weary groan than anything.
“What’s up, doll?”
You’re not meant to talk to Joseph. Your boss doesn’t like it when you do. He keeps insisting that Joseph wants to poach you, make you his assistant instead. But he’s been nothing but pleasant to you, so you let yourself indulge in conversation with him on occasion.
“They bumped two of Mister Laurent’s interviews this morning and makeup ran out of his foundation after lunch. And now I’ve gotta go tell him they’re cutting his baking scene from the next episode to make more time for your lesson on eating healthy.” You tap nervously on your pager where the offending message lay.
Joseph sucks in a sympathetic breath through his teeth. “That’s rough. Good luck.”
“Yeah.” You nod, tucking your pager away and knocking on Jean’s dressing room door. “Yeah, thanks.”
“What.” It’s flat and annoyed, the voice of a man who wants nothing more than to go home and drink away the stress of the day.
“Mister Laurent…” You peek your head around the door before stepping inside and closing it behind you.
“I thought I’d told you not to talk to him.” Jean’s sitting back on his couch, script in hand as he looks at you with stern disappointment. “I could hear you through the door.”
“I—he just… he asked—” Your hands make some vague gestures as you try to formulate an explanation without letting the day’s frustrations slip into your tone.
You’d been expecting to launch into your big apology about his cut scene, but he’d thrown you off. You weren’t expecting to have to defend your short conversation with Joseph. It only piled on top of the day’s stress, unidentified emotions bubbling in your chest.
“Don’t do it again.” He frowns, eyes scanning the script in his hand. “So.”
He leaves you waiting for his next words. He likes to do that, keep you waiting for him. He loves knowing your attention is on him and only him. Waiting for whatever it is he decides to say.
“I take it I don’t need to learn all this shit?” He tosses the script at your feet and a quick glance tells you it’s from the cut scene.
“No, you don’t.” You admit, bending to pick it up and set it lightly on his vanity. “I’m sorry, Mister Laurent. I tried to convince them, but…”
“But you failed.” Jean spreads his arms across the back of the couch and eyes you with a scowl. “You let them cut the scene.”
“I’m sorry, I really tried.” You can feel your throat tightening, eyes burning. You’re not going to cry in front of your boss. You can’t cry in front of your boss.
“Did you?” There’s a single raised eyebrow.
“Yes! Yes, I—I really did.” You want to stomp your feet in annoyance, but acting like a toddler wouldn’t exactly be the most professional response. “I told them it would throw off the whole balance of the episode. That Joseph has too many lines to learn. That we’ve already bought the ingredients for the cheesecake and they won’t last until next week.”
With each word, your voice tightens and tears threaten at the back of your eyes. You keep your gaze firmly on your shoes, not wanting to see the look of annoyance he was almost certainly levelling at you.
“Sweetheart.” He sounds almost like he’s going to laugh, “are you about to cry?”
“No.” Your voice is as firm as it can be, but it still wavers. You can feel a traitorous tear escape you. Just to prove you a liar.
“What do you think I’m going to say to you?” You can hear the smirk in his voice. “Tell you you’re shit at your job? Threaten to fire you? What. Tell me, what is it you’re expecting me to say?”
You can feel the tears tracking down your cheeks, nails digging into your palms. Your vision is blurred, your throat tight and aching as you hold back a full sob.
“I don’t know.” You grit out through your teeth.
“Come on, clearly you were expecting something. What was it?” He sounds almost breathless, but still demanding.
“That I’m useless.” The words push through your lips forcefully. “That I’m the worst. That you hate me. That you don’t want me as your assistant anymore. That it’s all my fault.”
“Why would it be your fault? Come on, say what you’re thinking, sweetheart.”
“Because it’s not yours.” Your brain seems to think the words after you’ve said them. You hadn’t even realised you’d felt this way. “It’s not your fault. You’re amazing. You’re such a good actor! You’re good in interviews, you're—”
You hiccup out a little sob, shoulders dropping as you let the stress of the day overwhelm you. You’re past the point of caring about crying in front of your boss. Now you just need to get the words out.
“You’re perfect. But they keep cutting your scenes and bumping your interviews and… it’s gotta be my fault. I’ve failed you. I try so hard, but I’m just not good enough. You deserve better.”
“Fuck yeah, sweetheart. Keep going.” His voice is a low moan and as it hits you, you become aware of a slick, rhythmic sound.
You raise your head, brushing just enough tears away to catch a momentary glimpse of Jean. He’s still on his couch, but now his legs are spread. His jeans are open, cock in his fist as he strokes himself.
Confusion, disgust, and arousal fight for pride of place in your stomach. He’s… getting off? To your tears? Or possibly your praise? This whole thing feels surreal. Like a fever dream.
“Mister Laurent…” Your voice shakes more than you’d hoped, hands shaking as you try to stifle your tears.
“Mmm sweetheart~” He sighs blissfully, “I love it when you call me that.”
“What are you…?” The sentence fades. It’s a stupid question. It’s pretty fucking obvious what he’s doing.
“Come here,” he points to the floor in front of him.
Your feet carry you over there, clinging to the last shreds of professionalism you have left. “Yes, Mister Laurent?”
You sniffle, wiping at your eyes a bit and trying to look professional. He simply scoffs at you and clicks his fingers, pointing to the floor.
“Kneel.”
You obey. His free hand reaches out and cups your cheek with a surprising gentleness. His thumb swipes across your lower lip before insistently pressing into your mouth. You part your lips for him, letting him slip his thumb in to tease your tongue.
“Your tears really do something for me, ya know.” He muses, replacing his thumb with two fingers. “Go on, suck.”
At this point, what else can you do? You close your lips around them and begin to suck. He groans, fist moving faster as he gets off to the sight of you crying before him.
“How long have you wanted this for?”
The question is jarring. How long… have you wanted this for? Wanted this? Him jacking off over you while you try to stop yourself from crying?
He chuckles at your surprise. “Come on, you think I haven’t seen the way you look at me? I’ve caught you watching me during costume changes.”
Your face burns. It isn’t untrue. You’ve had plenty of… unprofessional thoughts about Jean. Who wouldn’t? He’s handsome and flirty. But… you hadn’t realised you’d been so obvious about it.
“Oh sweetheart,” his voice is laced with a moan. “You thought I wouldn’t notice? I know you want this. I’m only giving you what you want. Tell me how much you want it.”
His fingers withdraw from your mouth and your lips fall open. You can hear yourself begging, your brain too fuzzy and disoriented to stop yourself.
“Please, Mister Laurent. Please, I’ve wanted this for so long. I need you, please!”
“A-ah, fuck sweetheart~”
You feel the warm splash of his cum on your cheeks, the taste of him dripping onto your tongue as your begs trail off into soft whimpers. The arousal has won out in your stomach, heat pooling between your thighs. You wait eagerly for your next order as he catches his breath.
Jean glances at you with a frown, waving a dismissive hand. “Go on, clean yourself up. You’re a mess. And call the director up, get him to put my baking scene back or you won’t have a job in the morning.”
You scramble out of the room, breathing a soft sigh of relief that everyone else has gone home for the night as you head to the bathroom to wash your face. What came over you? Letting him do that to you.
Sure, he's your boss. And sure, you’d thought about this sort of thing before. But why had you given in to it? It wasn’t like he would ever love anyone but himself.
You sigh, glancing in the mirror as you pat your face dry. “Stupid… So stupid…”
Your pager beeps. A message from your boss.
My dressing room. Tomorrow. 8pm.
There’s a pause and then—
Wear something nice.
#swwsdj#something's wrong with sunny day jack#sdj jean#jean laurent x reader#gn!reader#18+ only#sunshine#dark side of the sun#crosspost
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nsfw fic recs??? :o
HI i forgot to respond to this when i said i would then we went on a multi day transit. i now have wifi so here have some damn good tsp nsfw fic recs, under the cut bc. nsfw
also im sticking with mostly newer stuff bc while i LOVE r&r and instant gratification and all the oldies, im here to broadcast my love for some new shit that might not pop up at the top when you search by kudos bc its been there for years
Extended Feedback by alexisroyce: look i cant just. not put together a rec list without including this. its technically the second part of the advanced ludology series but you dont really need to read the first to get it (but you SHOULD and also read part three.... except hold onto ur ass and prepare for angst bc Hoo Fucking Boy). anyways its currently three chapters but a little bird implied a fourth is incoming and its so fucking good. the tag 'switch fight' has never been more accurate, stanley is a little shit and so is the narrator. theyre perfect for one another.
Executive Bathroom by sandyferal: sandy my friend sandy writes SUCH good shit. stanley wants some alone time and narrator gives it to him reluctantly only to come back and oh? whats this?
Hallelujah by disgraceRavenclaw: robot narrator and button pushing my beloved. narrator has a stuck button and requests stanleys assistance to unstick it. does not think ahead that This Man Loves Pressing Buttons. also the tags 'First Time' '(for the narrator anyway. i personally believe that stanley fucks like an animal)' live in my head rent free and make me witch cackle out of nowhere every once in awhile
Feeling a Bit Peculiar by ThisIsNotHowWeWalk: degradation kink, stanley getting manhandled, AND narrator using invisible hands? sign me the fuck up. another instance of stanley getting horny and wanting to deal with it alone, except narrator aint having that. also should read the sequel, Tangled up in Adventure (the adventure line (tm) is a horny boa constrictor and its fab
i probably definitely have more but just trust me when i say you can just. you can go to ao3 and sort by kudos and rating:explicit and. its all there and its FAB i love this fandom so much. i need to make a bookmark list of all the good shit so i can just post it here. maybe ill do that and add it in a reblog in the future idk
love yall
#personal#ask#anon#the stanley parable#the stanley parable ultra deluxe#stanarrator#tsp stanarrator#not putting it in the main post bc i physically cant broadcast my own shit like that#but im also working on a series called orbiting bodies that ppl think fucks hard and good so yeah#part one is named centrifugal force and part two is curvilinear restrictions. workign on a part three that is as of yet unnamed#need something else flowery and stupid aldfjaskdf#okay i sleep now. im still fuckin wiped from that transit. boat wouldnt stop rocking the whole time feel like im dizzy on dry land
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my younger cousin has a lot of mental health issues and its really affecting everyone in the house n we dont know how to help him help himself/: its a bit tormenting on everyone. ive tried to help a lot but i had to stop bc it was affecting my mental health and he started be really mean, now i see why everyone has to minimize how much they can help and be around. i just gotta vent real quick though bc i cant take this sometimes. my uncle missed his psych appointment with his main dr. twice and had me reschedule it bc his assistants that fuck everything up, had it all fucked up. i made my uncle buy a whiteboard to keep track of all his shit bc i have enough projects for myself, i texted him multiple times throughout the week about the appointment and helped with other reminders on top of other things for his business (and his friends jewelry start up). i texted him the day before and the day before that about the appointment, i put a post it note on the coffee maker that his friend just let fall aside and got coffee all over (but still it was right on the counter), and he still woke me up to ask me what time it was at and even had the nerve to tell me to get ready in an hour to “help get him going and get him over there”. bruh i went back to sleep, i was up for 2 hours tryna sleep laying there like a dead fish or whatever they say n barely got a couple hours. ive told him so many times ive been dealing with insomnia and he just thinks everyone has trouble sleeping and doesnt understand n ive told him im underweight and how i have no energy and its like nobody ever hears me when i ask for help. hes woken me up probably 10x now n i started hurting myself tbh bc my peace was being too intruded. i got handle and control of that though, i dont wanna hurt myself you know. but only coping method that ever helped. whatever when i got up i did knock on my cousins door n ask if he heard his dad and i texted him bc he didnt say anything. i went to go work out. when my uncle got home he saw me working out and tried to get me to go with and ik its only bc he wants me to sit in the office so he can nap in the car. i even made a joke about it and he agreed laughing and went to go take a nap. instead of going to tmobile to get this kid a new sim card that hes been needing and begging for for going on two months. lmao bruh i try
this was just one morning i could write books of diary entries accumulating my emotions but i dont have time for that tbh im procrastinating n finally writing out bc i just want this week to be over i want it to be monday i want it to be next month when my brothers getting here and my mom comes over and imma make ed come back in town.
idk if yall noticed but until valentines day, i hadnt posted anything the entire month of february. took this long being single to realize valentines day is my favorite holiday and i couldnt missy opportunity to share my heart. i even posted on iG for the first time in like a year. i love love, its all i am, its all i need.
ive had so many post ideas too, but everyone is asking so much of me. its crazy because a few months ago i fucking begged the universe for more responsibility and god damn did i get it, im really trying hard to manage and stay aligned any way i can. im getting close to getting really good. im tryna get there so soon bc i see it through so clear but i just cant. even stopped drinking and cut back on weed a bit bc i just dont have time for it.
i had a whole other thing to rant about and i could have so many others, does kinda help to vent it especially writing. i forgot what it was once i started writing about valentines day and happier things. its funny how easy it is to flow into different emotions, yet so hard to control that and discipline that. even when i then after put myself into my happiest spaces, just doesnt always work. thats why when i see the opportunity for happiness i take it and thats why i dont get stuck on things easy, i hate stagnacity (wrote a song about that the other day). not easily influenced, but easily inspired. music actually usually does it. well imma go see if it still smells like campfire in the shower n do that or something else productive n try to make the most of whats left of the day. fuck i usually post this kinda stuff in the middle of the night so not to many people see it, i try not to be a bother or negative. love you all always
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Proper Pinned Post
Anonymous blog that started as a writing blog. Now it's a bit of a mishmash. Self expression, often unedited and done on mobile. Maybe discourse, maybe rambly posts, who really knows.
Quick rundown: Pro-ship, pro-endogenic systems, pro-kink, pro-sex work, pro being radically inclusive generally. Disabled (physically and mentally, though the distinction is not one we feel needs to be made), queer, tired. 25+ body. We block liberally but do try to be understanding and own up to mistakes.
Feel free to block for any reason. We try to respect DNIs, if they exist/are accessible for us, but don't really think stating one ourselves is worth it. If you want to interact, you will, a DNI isn't going to do much to stop people. If you don't want to interact because of our stances, you aren't going to anyway.
Info on us and what you may expect to find on this blog below the cut.
We are a plural system that prefers using headmate/fictive terms over parts/alters/introjects. Voices will not be given names, and are numbered in order of choosing to use this blog, not by how many are actually here.
Currently:
Voice 1 (They/It)
Voice 2 (She/Her)
Voice 3 (They/It)
Voice: undisclosed (could be anyone, or a mix! Not necessarily a voice given a number.)
Voice 4 (They/Them)
Voice 5 (He/Him, & any)
Topics you may find:
Queer themes
Neurodiverse themes (Autism, ADHD, plurality, trauma, & more)
Cripplepunk/Madpunk/Punk in general
The woes of chronic pain
Lots of identity stuff
Self harm/Suicide/Death
Religious trauma
Unreality/Things of an otherworldly nature as if literal and as if really had happened
Dealing with reality, usually with hopepunk, but like, yikes
Fandomish stuff, maybe. Headmates/fictives being vague probably.
& more!
Any identifying info is not happening. If you think you know us no you don't. NDA this shit. Redirect your brain cells away from suspicion. If you browse thats fine but leave no trace, nature trail visit this place. Coincidences are just that, not even correlation. Or else.
(We'd probably just be embarrassed about being Known(tm) and kinda upset about some stuff being seen thats private but pretend I have a gun for the meme)
Thanks for coming to our ted talk, except psych, bonus ted talk of thoughts will be randomly added below
Anti-psychiatry. Yes we have a psychologist headmate, yes we are in therapy with a therapist who knows about us. Tear down the medical field and rebuild it brick by fucking brick without any brick not being seen to by someone it impacts. No one should be forced to have medical choices and bodily autonomy stripped like that.
As such, obviously, pro self-dx, because dx labels are like. a horrible mess. Half of it is different brands of slightly varied symptoms lining stuff up to see which eye glass you see through best at the eye doctor. Whatever's comfy yall. It's like trauma all the way down anyway. Yes for like, almost everything. Even the biological stuff is exacerbated by trauma. Life in our society is inherently traumatizing for 99.9% of people.
So like. Drugs. Relatedly. Addiction is a societal problem. Free supervised substance use sites is a public health issue. Stop jailing people (disproportionately BIPOC who are often then exploited as prison labor) for drugs. Stop villainizing them. Addicts should be supported, and you know what? If someone wants to do drugs sometimes, let em. They aren't a crime that forever marrs your immortal soul or some shit.
Opiod crisis. Pain relief seeking behavior being classified as drug seeking is costing lives, just give them the prescription. Also on this topic free healthcare. Abortion is an inherent right to bodily autonomy. Let someone trans their gender as much as they please so long as consent is informed. Also palliative care over life-prolonging care any day if the person wishes. Also physician's assisted suicide.
For the love of the vast void or whatever you believe in stop letting cops kill people. Stop letting cops. That's it end of sentence. Redirect funds to better serve the community. Cheer when the station goes up in flames. Also just because you're European doesn't mean you're free of the racism of the US.
More to be added when we feel like it. Also posts may get made abt these separately
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Underneath the read more tab is a rant and vent. Just a warning in case your curiosity gets the better of yall
I got talked to at work yesterday because I've been having issues. A coworker snitched and said that I "yelled at him" for coming to the back of the store (the cashier can't leave the front unattended as it's a loss prevention issue). Note, I didn't yell at all. Yes, I was being a little bossy but he's been here for over a year, he knows he can't leave the front alone! It doesn't help that when I told him, he tried to joke around and say no. That led to more issues.
According to my manager, my tone with how I handle customers and my coworkers have been more on the negative side and if it continues, it can lead to being written up for harassment. She said she understands that with being a keyholder, we have more responsibilities but I'm not the one who can tell others what to do. Fair, but what tf else am I supposed to do when I'm the one in charge of the store at that moment and things need to get done? If I tell someone to bring up the trash to the front, are they gonna snitch on me too?? Like, fuck! Now I'm getting my keyholder shifts suspended in an attempt to "lessen my stress". I was lucky to be getting 1 keyholder shift every 2 weeks (there's 2 keyholders total. Other keyholder gets most of those shifts because I'm trained in one more section of the store than he is so im utilized there more) but now I'm getting nothing?! What the fuck? I hold nothing against that keyholder, he's actually my best friend at work.
Unfortunately, I'm also in trouble for socializing too much with him at work because it leads to work not being done. If it keeps happening, we won't be scheduled together. That's fair, and I will do better on that. The part that bugs me, is when I told him about it, he said that he was never talked to about it and said he should also be held accountable for stuff like that. I'm pissed at the double standard on that
Part of the reason why my tone goes more to the negative side is because I have to deal with stupid people everyday! I wish that was an exaggeration! I once had 3 people get pissed off at me for asking them not to consume their snack/drinking before paying for it and that happened in a 24 hour period! Recently, I had a woman lose it at me because I told her she needed to pay for the card before writing in it! And that's the second time that's ever happened! Also, I don't care about the small pleasantries. You're a stranger, I don't care how you're doing. Do what you need to and leave. Stop talking and grab your shit faster, you're holding up the line and I'm the only cashier avaliable right now
My manager and assistant manager both said they've noticed my stress and asked if everything's okay in my life. I had to lie and say yes. They said I could talk to them both about anything. They are genuinely good people and I know they're doing their jobs too but I can't talk to them. I still have to respect the manager-staff relationship. Plus, how can I say that "no I'm not fine. My depression and anxiety are riding me into the ground, I'm terrified that I'm going to get kicked out of my apartment again (another story) even if I do nothing wrong, and with that terror, I've hardly unpacked anything because I want to be prepared if I do get evicted. My 6 year relationship with my long distance boyfriend is causing me extreme self doubt again because he has a hard time expressing affection and I need the affection, so the fact that it was getting really close to Valentines Day knowing that he only likes that day because it's when his pet bird hatched, I've been having multiple bouts of silent break downs where I can only stare at the ceiling and silently mourn the fact that I'll never be loved in the way I want to. I can't even tell him because we've had multiple conversations about it but very little has changed, plus I fear I'm going to sound ungrateful. So to fill that void, I've been reading character x reader fanfics to feel something, even if it's a synthetic sort of love. I'm sure as hell not getting it here in the real world!". I'm sure nothing will go wrong with telling my managers all that
I'm just so tired and there's nothing I can do. Therapy is too expensive and with how I've been feeling, if I even utter a single thought about ending myself (the feeling has been there for years but I've never acted on it), I'm sure to be sent to a psych ward. I can't afford to miss work either, I have bills to pay. Hell, I can barely cry about it properly because I've repressed that instinct for years and I hate the stuffed up nose I get with it
Just...I don't know anymore...I'm so tired
#rant#venting#don't reblog#you can scroll past or read#i honestly don't care#I just need to scream into the void that is the internet for a hot minute
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Wow I was looking up “how much do CEOs make” and “executive assistant salary” and Jesus Christ the discrepancy is staggering. Tbh I thought 200k was pretty low for Greg considering everybody else’s wealth but that’s like more than triple the average salary for that type of position. meanwhile execs are making millions and the Roys are billionaires what the fuckkkkk YALL are the ones that need a pay cut fr. Mattson needs to cut HIMSELF to the bone 💀 literally fuck that guy ugh
I was nearly going to apply for a c-suite assistant job (the posting disappeared before I could hehe) but WOW I really thought they would get paid more. I guess the appeal is more about access to power than anything else, right ? Cuz Greg could have done a little typey typey and make $250k+ doing any type of CS shit buttt he would never have made it to the bottom of the top
#tom wambsgans ceo#executive assistant gregory hirsch#LOL this makes the zoom firing scene so much funnier to me#bc there’s no way he should be doing that they are ALL above him in the food chain but fuck ittt#nepo baby gonna nepo baby
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laszlo kreizler nsfw alphabet
so yeah this... Happened. the zemo version is coming soon, stay tuned! (probably tomorrow morning bc a bitch is tired lmao)
(gif credit to @lindir)
A = Aftercare.
Laszlo is such an aftercare king. He’s checking on you in every way he can think of: asking you if you feel alright, maybe massaging your hips if he had you in a weird position, offering you dinner or wine, maybe even a hot bath, if you’d like (and the bath would have special perfumed oils he had sent from Paris because Laszlo is SUCH a self care whore, he’s got soaps and perfumes out the wazoo).
B = Body Part.
His favorite part of yours are your breasts. No questions, hands down. He likes using your breasts as a pillow at night— just settling himself between your legs and resting his head on your tits is a dream he indulges in frequently. He also really loves seeing you in the new French-style of dresses that have a lower neckline, and, if you wear one of those dresses to dinner without telling him beforehand, he’s as good as gone. He’s staring the whole time and can only manage simple sentences.
C = Cum.
I think Laszlo likes to cum inside you, but he also wouldn’t mind cumming on your tits. If you’re on your knees, sucking him off, he’ll pull himself out of your mouth and almost rip your blouse in his haste to set your tits free before his orgasm rips through him. He only chooses to cum inside you if he can’t cum on your tits (for example, if you’re having slow, kissy sex and he can’t bear to leave your wet heat).
D = Dirty Secret.
Laszlo. Loves. To. Be. Degraded. From a psychological standpoint, he understands that his desire to be brought down and ridiculed is born from some sort of childhood trauma that DEFINITELY involves his father, but he just can’t help himself from getting so ridiculously turned on when you call him a dog for humping your leg while you try to sleep. Bonus points if you use his title while you do it: “Just like a little bitch in heat, aren’t you, Doctor Kreizler? You’re so aroused, you can hardly handle yourself. Are you too dumb to touch your own cock? Do you need me to do it? Oh, Doctor, what a dumb little thing you are.”
E = Experience.
Even Daniel himself has said that Laszlo has like NO experience. Laszlo got ZERO bitches (which I find hard to believe but ok whatever you say, writers of The Alienist), so, the first time y’all have sex, he’s more likely than not losing his virginity (let’s not get into the debate of “virginity is a social construct” because a.) IT IS and b.) Laszlo would lecture for hours about this). HOWEVER, these things come naturally to him. He is just Good In Bed. He figures it out very quickly, so, while you make fun of him for going a little stupid when he’s aroused, he makes up for it by bruising your cervix and apologizing later.
F = Favourite Positions.
Laszlo loves that soft, slow, kissy sex, so he’s into whatever position makes it possible for him to be inside you and to kiss you at the same time. Missionary is a go to, but sometimes he’ll have you sit on his desk and kiss your neck as he hikes your skirts up and fucks you all slow and nice.
G = Goofy.
Hardly ever? Laszlo is pretty serious most of the time, and the only time we ever see him Not Serious in the show is when he’s wasted after John’s bachelor party in season 2. So, maybe y’all went to dinner at Delmonico’s, then a ball for members of high society, and he had a little too much champagne and schnapps. He’s not like giggling and all, but his cheeks are red and he’s smiling more than usual, and calling you sweet names “Oh, mein Kätzchen” and “Meine kleine Prinzessin”. That’s Laszlo’s version of goofy.
H = Hair.
OK, my train of thought here is: LOOK AT THIS MAN’S BEARD. HIS BEARD IS NICE AS SHIT. If he treats his facial hair that good— regular trims, the beard oils we all know he uses, even if it isn't strictly canon— then his downstairs hair is nice too. Definitely soft, if maybe a little wiry sometimes (but tbh whose isn’t), and it’s a nice little cropping at the base of his cock. He also has a thin happy trail up his soft tummy, and a good amount on his chest (as we see in the show lol that much is canon).
I = Intimacy.
Laszlo is ALL ABOUT intimacy. You’ll know he’s in a ~mood~ because you’ll ask what’s being served at Delmonico’s that night, and Laszlo is like “I thought we might stay in tonight. John gave me his grandmother’s recipe for chicken soup”. He’ll light candles and pour you wine and play nice music on his gramophone, and he’ll romance you throughout dinner with little hand touches and sly smiles, until he’s kneeling in front of you and slowly kissing up your leg.
J = Jack-Off.
Honestly, he hardly does it. Of course, I’m sure he did it A LOT before he met you, but now he doesn’t need to pleasure himself anymore. He’s got you to do that. The only exception is if he has to travel for work and you can’t go with him. Even then, he’ll hold off until he absolutely can’t stand it, and then he’ll like read a letter you sent him or look at a sketch that John did of you while he whacks off; sometimes, he’ll just hold your letter to his face, and the faint trace of your perfume is enough to do the job.
K = Kink.
He likes impact play a lot (and perhaps a little roleplay wrapped up in it). On the rare occasion that his fucking is anything but soft and lovely, he’s gonna be hitting your ass and the backs of your thighs as you cling to him while he rails you stupid. Laszlo would try to hit your cheek, but he feels too bad when you wince at the pain of it. Spanking your tits is good to him too. His favorite though (and here’s where the roleplay comes in), is caning your ass. He’ll bend you over the desk in his home office and pull your skirts up past your hips, and he’ll make you count the amount of times his thick wooden cane connects with your soft asscheeks. The roleplay is, more often than not, you were his assistant who did something wrong and needed to be punished. If you miss one or forget to thank him accordingly “Thank you, sir”, he’ll focus the next hit on your thighs.
L = Location.
Either the bed or his desk. Laszlo is a little older (I don’t think we ever get an explicit age? But if we say he’s the same age as Daniel, then he’s 40 to 42-ish) so he can’t do it against a wall or anywhere too crazy (not to mention his right arm can hardly support much weight, so if he needs to hold you up, it’s probably not gonna happen). The bed is a special time for you two because of his arm; he’ll hold himself up with his left arm and rest his hand on your hip or wherever to give himself at least a little leverage. But the desk is usually easier because you can sit, or you can bend over and he can grab your hip.
M = Motivation.
He loves you and wants to worship you. It’s truly as simple as that. He loves you and thinks that you’re the most beautiful creature he’s ever seen, and he wants to show his reverence for you by making love to you.
N = No.
He can’t get into the role of “daddy”, nor can he call you “mommy”. Childhood trauma aside, he will be goddamned if Sigmund fucking Freud is correct about his bullshit Oedipus complex or whatever, so he just eliminates that whole thing entirely.
O = Oral.
He’s very good at it. He’s just… His lips are soft and his beard is good, and he’s not afraid to get a little messy with it. He’ll eat you out until he absolutely has to come up for air, and he’ll have a little bit of your wetness clinging to his mustache, but then he’s right back in it. His medical degree is also put to good use here because he remembers his female anatomy and he’s locked onto your clit the entire time. The first time you ever squirted, it was because Laszlo was nipping at your clit and sucking your wet little hole and pressing his thick fingers into you, and it was A Lot To Process, but you squirted and Laszlo came in his pants instantly because he’s like “I didn’t think women could actually do that… I thought that was a thing that penny novels made up”
P = Pace.
Again, he’s a little older, so he doesn’t fuck like some wild boy. He takes his time with you, touching you and caressing you and kissing you, and his pace is the same way. He’s slow and gentle, but has the capacity to go faster and harder if you ask for it.
Q = Quickie.
Hates them. Never. Never ever ever. If he can’t properly romance you and take his time with you, then what’s the point??
R = Risk.
Surprisingly, Laszlo is a little schemer, and he loves running a risk. He’s already looked down upon by other society members, so what’s the harm in squeezing your ass at a party? PERHAPS it’s inappropriate to get caught in a dark corner with your hand down his trousers and him kissing your neck, but it’s easy to blame it on the alcohol.
S = Stamina.
Once more, he is firmly middle aged, so he can do one round— maybe two, if he’s feeling particularly frisky. Usually, though, one is more than enough for both of you.
T = Toy.
HAVE YALL SEEN SEX TOYS FROM THE 1890S?? SHITS ARE SCARY. Laszlo does not like toys, but he understands their need for existing, so he may not like them but he tolerates them. That being said, he likes to watch you use them. LIke, he’ll sit in a chair by the bed and request you “put on a good show”, and he’ll watch you fall apart, and he’ll only come and touch you if you beg and plead for him to.
U = Unfair.
Mhm, so, in Laszlo’s mind, sex and pleasure are not just a give and take, it’s a two way street. They can (and often need to) coexist. He doesn’t like to initiate something if you won’t be able to reciprocate, so he’s not too into teasing or things. At the aforementioned parties, he’ll only goose your ass if he knows you’re 100% down for it.
V = Volume.
He’s fairly quiet. His mouth is usually really close to your ear, and you’re the only one who gets to hear his pretty little noises. The loudest he’ll be is when he’s come home after traveling and it’s felt like ages since he’s made love to you, he’s gonna come inside you, and his little gasp and moan are louder than usual.
W = Wild Card.
He is down to be tied up. He doesn’t like to tie you up, but if he’s the one being restrained, he’s all over it. It’s nothing too intense, just using a ribbon for your hair to tie his left hand to the headboard, not super tight but enough to make his fingers a little tingly, but he loves it. He loves the switch of the dynamic, how he’s fully at your mercy and you can use him however you please; usually, you just suck him off and ride him, but the endless possibilities get him hard as soon as you pull out the ribbon.
X = X-Ray.
Laszlo has Big Dick Energy, so he has to have a big dick. The best example of this sort of energy is in the very first episode after he goes and interviews Wolf, and comes to speak to Teddy, and Teddy is like “you interviewed the suspect? On whose authority??” and laszlo is like “Mine” like OH HIS DICK IS BIG I KNOW IT. He’s got an above average length and girth, but we know our man likes to eat, so some of his weight goes to his dick, so it’s like,,, He’s got a fat cock, sorry, I don’t make the rules
Y = Yearning.
Constantly. Neverending. He’s at work and he’ll catch a glimpse of a pastel drawing that you commissioned from John for Laszlo’s birthday that sits in a frame on his desk, and his heart starts to hurt from missing you. When he comes home, he’ll embrace you and kiss you like he hasn’t seen you in years, and he’ll want to hear all about your day. You have your doctor so whipped for you, and it’s a different kind of whipped than being pussy whipped. He’s, like, feelings whipped.
Z = ZZZ.
He’s a sleepy little baby after you guys finish. His eyes will be a little heavy and sticky as he’s cleaning up and caring for you (and you definitely coo at him “Oh, Las, you’re so sleepy!”) but when you’re both back in bed, our little man is circling his arm around your waist and nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He’s so soft and affectionate, and he’s out like a light when you kiss his forehead and tell him you love him.
#laszlo kreizler#the alienist#laszlo kreizler smut#daniel bruhl x reader#daniel bruhl smut#daniel brühl x reader#daniel brühl smut#laszlo kreizler x reader#daniel bruhl#daniel brühl
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BATWOMAN S3x12
*SPOILERS AHEAD*
…. this isn’t what we meant when we said we wanted a pillowtalk opening scene 😫
brunette alice will never stop being unnecessary.
unt unt wardrobe… im not about to play with y’all tonight…. they really put alice in capris and flats 😭 stop the madness.
ain’t nobody come back from the dead as much as ocean 😂 like okay kenny mccormick. iykyk. watch him start bleeding from the mouth per usual.
🤣🤣🤣🤣 i fuckin knew it 😭
not alice crying for a whole 30 minutes already 😫 i didn’t train for this 😭
WAYMENT… no they didn’t. you mean to tell me ryan got her buns buttered and then …went out to fight crime?! .. hm?,,, that’s not what that lady meant when she said she just wants to sleep.
“ooo woah ….you’re batwoman” 😂 who tf else would she be?… pikachu?
TIME OUT. SOUND THE ALARM. this is the second time my good sis sophie i just want to love and be loved moore woke up in a bed by herself after work (so sorrry 😂) and i just where is the respect 😭 what happened to spooning, cuddling shit anything because ryans ass was out in the streets all night fighting crime and renee had the nerve to leave her a piece of shit message on an envelope knowing damn well she ain’t have no food.
soohie moore my cup runneth o’er 😭 she’s so fucking happy and content y’all 😫
sophie please cause even if ryan had coffee you weren’t gonna drink it. the day sophie drinks a beverage ryan offers her is the day ill know peace.
WHAT?! im pressing charges for sophie my damn self 😭 the first face she sees the morning after is queen grimhilde?! this is criminal.
“cream and sugar dear ?” 🤣🤣 jada please.
meagan tandy and these perfect facial expressions 😂
mary and alice forever stressing me out. like i love yall but please stfu 😫
“what is this?….. gilmore girls?” 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 i need to know if this was scripted or not because meagan tandys comedic improv timing is unmatched.
i forgot how much i enjoy commenting as i watch 🥲
ryan entering the loft like … this is not what i meant when i said i want a mom who texts my girlfriend about tv shows they like.
“at least when i lived with alice she knocked” … sophie please 🧢 we not starting off this relationship with lies ma’am.
just when i was getting ready to start trusting jada. no ma’am. right back to square zero.
“…it’s a lesbian bar…. know your exits” 🤣 sophie please.
… did we just witness a contactless kidnapping?
“speaking of identical… weren’t you wearing that yesterday?” 😂… cousin luke .🤫 👉🏾 FOCUS!!
“she helped me track down marquis’s assistant all night… she didn’t have time to go home” 🤣🤦🏾♀️ ryan… that’s not what the evidence shows ma’am.
sophies entire demeanor rn 😫 PAIN.
first of all ryan you not gon’ caress my goood sister sophie’s forearm tawm bout explain nothing as you walk away like you didn’t just lick your lips while looking at her in the face and in the same breath tell my cousin like she helped you look for a mf she don’t even know all night 😭 i outta whoop her ass with that same belt that whooped her ass 😂🤦🏾♀️
see… ki ki one of them jezebels that talk too much. my my my, it was only a week ago she was talking her shit. aged… very much poorly.
alice and marquis haven’t met before? ..
oh okay this mf marquis crazy crazy 🥵
and why every outfit marquis wears his 🍆 in my face? like …sir, please. as a lesbian ion understand.
if he kiss jada on the head or cheek one more time 🤣🤣🤦🏾♀️
i have no idea whats going on but that labradoodle was innocent 😭
“JADA WHAT THE HELL IS HAPPENING” .. same barbara. same.
it’s just too many crazy and dead people popping up in this episode 😫 like we didn’t train for this shit.
this ain’t sitting right with me… alice said she killed that man poison mary killed? ..before i get emotional ima sit on this discovery cause i know better 🧘🏾♀️
sophie ridin shotty aggravated as usual 😂
ryan… when something isnt anybodys business you should exercise your fifth amendment right or say respectfully… mind your business. or a personal favorite of mine. pull out your phone put it to your ear and say hello as you’re walking away 🙂 understood? … very good.
i still don’t understand why marquis is so upset 😂
alice … how many times we gotta telll you to stop turning ya back on the opposition? DAMN.
awh lawd alice gon give that man alllll the secrets 🤦🏾♀️
alice vs sophie?! mhm. more of that please.
jada .. listen to ya child and get the hell on before that criminal your raised come back with the bologna.
“that is so unfair” 🤣🤣🤦🏾♀️ alice please.
UNT UNT. marquis out his gat damn top. absolutely not. a punk ass street rat tho? you a whole hoe sir, sit down 😫
this man called ryan a coward and then decided to attack her…. like a coward… ? it’s giving very much who needs to pay for birth control when marquis jet is free advertisement the next day on hulu?
AHHHHHHH JADA SAID AHT AHT… play with your toys not my daughter bitch!
😭😭😭😭😭😭 WAYDAMIN i wasn’t prepared for this moment y’all. she held and hugged and cradled her babygirl like she been waiting to do it fah TWENTEE SEM YEEAAS 😫 auntie jada here go ya flowers 💐 girl 😭 accept this as a formal apology for calling you queen grimhilde earlier.
awh lawd. bow y’all heads and pray with me. heavenly father i come to you as humble as i know how. i ask that you guide my good sis sophie back to gotham. respectfully father, we dont jive with her mama at all. that jezebel shalt not be vindicated of her crimes. father g-d i come to you willing and able asking you to understand the assignment one more time (for now) we need you lord. we ain’t forget dianes shameless simping over tyler or her choice in wigs … terrible, father g-d… ion ask for much. in your name big fella, amen.
sophie 🥺 protect sophie for you (ryan) i will moore at all costs because i cannot handle her getting her heart broken again ms wilder 😫
PROTECT THESE IDIOTS IN LOVE. 😭
“what if i finally find the courage to be out but the person im interested in doesn’t want the same thing” 🥺 my good sis vulnerable and exposed sitting in front of the person she’s interested in, no that’s too disrespectful. sitting in front the love of her life, telling her that she wants all of her first out and proud with a woman to be with her, and ONLY her, without saying it. sophie moore is the standard. argue with your laundry.
im just glad that the writerss have established jordan moore manifested and spoke wildmoore endgame into existence after meeting “bartender girl” one time. we love a prophet.
😭😭😭😭 it’s ryan acknowledging her trauma and fears when it comes to the good things in her life and sophie validating them and assuring ryan through their love language (touch) that she gets it and is not going anywhere 🤧
MEAGAN TANDY 🤣🤣🤣🤣 i know damn welll she improvised that snort im fucking crying.
😭😭 they’re so soft with each other.
ryan got it bad wilder can’t even hide it anymore 🤣 she’s saying i love you first. next week without a doubt.
sophie when i look at you moore 😭 it’s the patience and respect she shows ryan knowing where she’s at and what she wants in terms of a future with ryan while maintaining, understanding and respecting ryans boundaries while she works through her emotions and her past as she comes to terms with where she’s at and what she wants even when it hurts or is frustrating as hell.
this is what our community means when we say we want our stories told authentically. this is representation.
NOT NOW HAMILFOX
mary: “…sorry….. 🧐…weren’t you wearing that yesterday?”
also mary: 🤯🤨😟
ALSO MARY: *reacts in 14 one syllable words*
STILL MARY: *😱🤭😧😯😁🤣🤗😂
Luke: *no idea what’s happening*
MARY: *spills the beans*
luke: “🧐… seriously?”
ryan: “…. yeah… we’re officially a thing*
it’s at this very moment mary becomes the happiest person in the room and has no idea what to do with herself 😭 ugh i love and missed her so much. the laugh as she hugs them both 🤣🤣🤣🤣 the “how did i not know” as she’s walking away 🤣🤣🤦🏾♀️
ryan and soohie just sitting laughing all bashful 😭
it was just so nice seeing the team smiling and laughing together again 🥲
😭😭😭😭 anchors aweigh ladies iss the uss wildmoore underwayyyy … shift colors.. can y’all guess what i do for a living or nah?
peep sophie 😭 my good sis has NEVER looked so happy and at peace 😫 batmoore stans just give us wildmooree philanthropists our flowers 💐 we accept apologies from 9 to 5, six days a week. we’re closed on wednesdays for ship maintenance. y’all suds in a bucket you wouldn’t understand 😘
okay they ain have to throw alice down like fhat. i know she killed yalll but … relax.
gzus cryst alice 😫 WHY?!
ugh this season has been so damn good, finale is about to be wild 🥵
#batwoman#wildmoore#ryan x sophie#sophie x ryan#alice kane#jada jet#sophie moore#ryan wilder#luke fox#mary hamilton#live reaction
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“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.
#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fan fic#harry styles fan fiction#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles oneshot#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles x reader#enemies to lovers#dwd!harry#idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk#pls leave feedback and reblog
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~ Purple heart ~
Contents: SMUT! detective/criminal!Minho x detective!fem!reader. Office sex, fingering, use of nicknames, penetrative sex, unprotected sex (CAREFUL YALL), orgasm (m/f), explicit language, degradation (ish?), mentions of blood, mentions of gangbang, uhm what more.
Word count: 1.5 k words
Requested: Based on anons GENIUS ask so thank u thank u <33
Note: @vogueinnie has a little drabble based on a similar ask so please read it HERE (u wont regret it <33)
Papers and files were scattered across the carpeted floor of the shared office.
“I swear I had it in a folder somewhere in this damn office... fuck, that was such an important document!” you yelled at Minho that was sitting on a black office chair, his light brown coat draped over the chairs back as he was typing away on his keyboard. Your head snapped towards the brown haired boy, sitting arrogantly at his grand oak desk.
“Minho! You know that if this document isn’t found until tomorrow we are both in deep shit right?”
“Babygirl, it was on your desk last time I saw it.” he peeked from behind his computer screen.
You shuddered at the nickname. ‘Babygirl’. You glanced at the open door that led to the other offices to make sure that no one was still there at this ungodly hour of the night. Everyone else had gone home and that’s about the time Minho started shoving sweet nothings in your ears. You crouched down in defeat infront of the black file cabinet, a pale yellow folder with the SKZ mob logo painted on it layed infront of your feet that were decorated with stockings and a pair of black shiny kitten heels. Your arms hanged in defeat infront of you, the bracelet with the purple heart jingling everytime you moved.
A big hand stroked your hair and moved down your back. You turned around in surprise and Minho was slightly crouching, his hand emitting warmth onto your small figure. His dark brown eyes were unreadable just like his expression, the statue-like facial features making him even harder to read. His veiny hand wrapped around your shoulder, pushing you onto the floor making you land on your butt with a thump. Your hands landed behind you, holding your back straight up as Minho stood tall at the base of your legs, looking you up and down before smirking.
“M-minho what the fuck, it’s seriou-” you were cut off by Minho attaching his soft lips on yours, sitting on his knees by your side. You arms shook from how his wet tongue swirled around yours, melting in his presence. He cupped your flushed face as a wet patch formed underneath your skirt. Fuck, why were you so weak for him? It’s your co-worker and the policy about work relationships was strict so your heart was always on edge when Minho fucked you in the office like he’d done countless times before. His hans trailed down your chest, feeling on your breasts through the white bra and button up shirt that you wore to work everyday, not being much room for any creativity in the dresscode of the office. The sole of your foot met the ground once you kicked off your heels and bent your knees, inviting him to touch your burning core.
Those hands of his gripped your inner thigh after kneading your breasts for a while, inching closer one fingertip at the time. Tilting your head, your noses slightly bumped into each other as the kiss got passionate. Your breath hitched, holding back a moan as his fingers plunged down your thin black stockings and panties, feeling around your sex. You opened your eyes in the kiss and met his dark gaze, he broke the kiss and breathed between his sculpted lips.
“tsk, always so wet for me” he scoffs cockily.
You rolled your eyes, being annoyed at yourself for letting him have this controll over you. Two fingers slipped into your sopping cunt and a heavy sigh was the consequence at his fingers curling upwards. You pulled him closer to you by his neck, slowly dropping the back of your head towards the floor and dragging him along with you. The taste of his lips spread through out your mouth, watered down with your saliva as his digits created the most sinful sounds, your cunt was being abused. You couldn’t help but to moan pathetically against his lips to which he grinned and added his thumb that was lazily circling your clit, the bud swollen with lust. Just as the knot in your stomach was starting to form he pulled out his finger, the tips glistening with your juices as he lapped them up, looking at you seductively. Just his gaze could make your whole body hot, your hands clammy and your panties soaked. A yelp errupted from your chest as he grabbed your stocking, ripped them and exposing your panties.
“y/n, you’re fucking soaking” he said, not surprised at this point. The both of you were busy, fumbling around with your clothes. Minho’s belt buckle making a clinking sound before the outline of his substantial dick was seen through his boxers. Your eyes darted around the room, not wanting to appear rude for staring at the eye catching sight.
“Stop acting innocent now, y/n” he laughed haphazardly to which you blushed. Were all your feelings plastered on your face or was he just really good at this job, reading social cues like a book?
He was standing on his knees between your legs as he popped his dick over his black boxers. You gulped upon seeing his size, being stunned everytime it appeared infront of you even though this wasn’t the first time. He alined himself with your heated core after he’d pushed the fabric covering your cunt aside, allowing him to enter. His immense length bottomed out as he slid into your wet cunt with ease. Without noticing you bit your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, the metallic taste stinging your tastebuds. Minho hissed as you clenched around him, desperate for him to destroy you and see you at your most vulnerable state.
“Needy, huh?” he scoffs as he sets a rhythmic pace, his hips bucking into yours. You arched your back as he added a finger to your clit, the bundle of nerves being stimulated once more by his delicate hands. Moans trickle down your tongue as his pace got quicker, Minho chasing his release with eagerness.
“M-minho please..a-agh” you stuttered as your hands were pinned above your head, the chain of the bracelet bore into your thin-necked wrist as both they were both pinned underneath Minho’s one hand, the other one still playing with your clit. The office was quiet, only the sound of your lustful moans mixed with Minho’s breathy groans could be heard. The squelching of your cunt spreading a red tint over your cheeks from embarrassment as you looked deep into Minho’s stoic eyes. His bitter gaze sent shivers down your spine as the pain from the bracelet contrasted the pleasure in your core.
Before you knew it the knot began tightening. Minho’s pace now faster than ever, making you more of a disheveled mess with each second that ticked by on the big clock above the office door. You looked to your side, out through the big glass panes that were making up half of the offices walls. The tiny specks of light blurring your vision as you felt yourself releasing onto his member.
“O-oh.. fuck y/n” he grunted, his head twisting back briefly before looking at the mess that was your face. Your eyes rolled into your skull as his last thrusts were making your whole body move on the floor. Hair covered your eyes and your lips glistened from saliva. The knot was untied and you melted underneath him into a puddle of arousal. His warm load decorated your raw cunt as Minho pieced together an incoherent sentence of sweet nothings.
Eventually he pulled out as you were trying to make sense of your surroundings, being completly immersed in your tidal-like orgasm moments earlier. Before you could even ground yourself he stood up and fixed his business attire. He streached arm against your messy self, your chest heaving.
“Gonna lay there forever?”
He smiled savagely at you while asking his question, the veins in his arms popping out. You took his tepid hand in yours and stood up, groaning when remembering that your tights were ripped.
“Did you really have to rip them?” you asked annoyingly while adjusting your skirt and finding your heels. He just looked at you observingly, his mind somewhere else. His grip around your hand was firm and he pulled you into a final kiss, pressing you against his body. The kiss quickly got heated again and as you bit his bottom lip teasingly you noticed a familiar emblem on the inside of his lip. You pulled his lip further out with your teeth and froze upon seeing the SKZ mob logo inked on the delicate flesh.
“M-minho...you don’t... you’re n-not”
In fright you slowly backed away, none of your words were made sense as Minho devilishly grinned towards you. He yanked you by your small hand and grabbed your wrist hard enough to form marks, the wrist he had in hand was the one with the purple heart bracelet. He licked his plump lips before speaking.
“We could use a innocent girl like you to you know... fullfill our needs”. His predatory gaze made goosebumps errupt on your soft skin.
“Deal, babygirl?”
The SKZ mob crime scenes was always marked with their spray painted emblem but after this the logo ended with a small purple heart, a sign of your assistance.
#stray kids smut#lee know smut#skz smut#straykids x reader#straykids fanfic#stray kids imagines#stray kids fanfic#stray kids drabbles#stray kids reactions#skzsmut#skz fanfic#skz x y/n#skz x reader#skz x stay#stray kids x reader#stray kids x y/n#stray kids x female reader#minho smut#lee know x reader#lee know x y/n#lee know x you#minho x y/n#minho x reader#minho x you#kpop smut#dom!skz#dom!straykids
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