#the black behind the other logos looks dumb
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EXCUSE ME MCLAREN WHERE THE EVER LOVING FUCK ARE THE BLACK FIREPROOFS???
BRING THEM BACK IMMEDIATELY
#bahrain gp 2024#lando norris#LIVID#the black around the neck look so blocky#the black behind the other logos looks dumb#the white behind the logos on the arm looks dumb#you give us a black and orange suit and then take away the COHESION of the black fireproofs???
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Gotham rained a lot more than Amity ever did.
Danny could not help but appreciate the differences. From the way the city itself curled around her inhabitants to the weather, Gotham was far darker than Amity ever managed to be.
Still, there were similarities. The screams, for one. In Amity, it was ghosts, their victims, and whichever ghostbuster of the day rocking up to rock each other’s shit. Another similarity? Danny’s inability to not get himself into troublesome shit, because he could never ignore a cry for help.
That scream was a cry for help if he’s ever heard one.
Danny cursed himself as he slipped through the alleyways, strides becoming smoother and agile than he normally walked like. He stuck to the shadows, the prickling of ghostly senses and honed vigilante instincts guiding him towards the scream. It was a man, getting stabbed by a guy in a red helmet.
Danny maintained that he was new here.
Which is why his foot connected solidly with Red Helmet's... red helmet.
"Motherfuc-" Red Helmet shouted as he was punted several feet away.
"Holy shit dude, are you good?"
Danny helped the guy up.
"Thank fuck! Back up! What took you so long?! Boss is gunna be so pissed if we're late!"
Hold up. Boss?
"Boss?"
“Black Mask, asshole! We gotta go before he decides to cut off our limbs!”
Danny yanked the guy to the side just as a bullet ricocheted off the rusted fire escape.
“Ope!”
“You’re not going anywhere.” A mechanical voice growled behind them.
“Oh fuck, Red Helmet guy.” Danny muttered.
“Shit, ya gotta run, tell boss I got caught.” The injured goon- because it was now apparent to Danny that the guy was working for someone dangerous- said. Danny appreciated the thought, but he only intervened because the guy was getting stabbed.
“Uh,” Danny hesitated. Clearly the guy had the wrong idea.
“Don’t make a move, unless you want your fucking heads blown off,” Red Helmet guy- wait, why does he feel liminal?- raised his guns. “Why don-”
Red Helmet guy was cut off by the thud of the now unconscious goon.
His helmet tilted down and then back up at Danny.
“Guess it’s just you and me,” Helmet guy sneered out. “Better tell me everything you know about Black Mask, or else you’ll get a taste of what he had.”
Danny held up his hands even though he knew he could just let the bullets phase through him. The smart thing would be to absolve himself and not get in the middle of two criminal’s beef as a civilian.
Danny’s full name, however, could have been Danny ‘Dumb Decisions’ Fenton. So, Danny practically interjected himself like an overexcited puppy at a doggy daycare.
“Okay, no need to get bloody. But uh, I have a question.”
Red Helmet cocked his head and mockingly gestured with his gun. “Sure, why not.”
Danny let as much of his midwestern accent into his voice as possible. “Who’s, uh, Black Mask?”
Red Helmet paused. Then he sighed. “You’re not from here, are you?”
“No…? I’m, uh, new in town.”
Red Helmet lowered his guns, and for some reason, Danny could tell that he was exasperated.
“Why would you even get in between a fight, dumbass? I have a gun! I coulda killed ya! He’s a criminal’”
Danny protested. Rude! “In my defense, you were stabbing him! You’re a criminal too, you know!”
“That makes it worse! You-!” Red Helmet paused. “Wait, do you even know who I am?”
Danny let his gaze wander down to the red bat-shaped logo on the guy’s chest. “Uh… Red Helmet… bat-guy?” He hazarded a guess.
“Oh my god, you’re an idiot.”
Danny gaped. “Excuse me?!”
“You heard me,” Red Helmet put his gun back and planted his fists on his hips. “You’re an idiot. Who gets in between a vigilante and the goon of a crime lord.”
Danny crossed his arms, leveling an unimpressed look at Red Helmet. “I’ve never heard of a vigilante killing someone, Red Helmet Bat-Guy.”
“It’s Red Hood.” Red Helmet sighed, walking closer. “And I wasn’t going to kill him.” Danny scoffed.
Danny relaxed, sensing the truth coming from Red Helmet guy’s liminal aspects.
“He’ll die looking at your ugly mug,” Danny sassed. “You’re gonna get him to a hospital, right? I’ll go with you.”
“Are you midwesterners all this trusting? What if I was the goon and this guy was the vigilante?”
Red Hood hiked the goon over his shoulder in a fireman carry. Danny followed after him.
“He’s the one that told me to go running back to his boss, Red Helmet.”
“It’s Red Hood.”
“That doesn’t look like a hood.”
Danny grinned as Red Helmet grumbled. How interesting! Maybe he won’t miss Amity as much as he thought he would!
“Ugh, fine, I guess someone’s gotta watch your dumb ass so you don’t get mugged.”
“I can take care of myself!”
Hood grunted. “I guess that kick wasn’t half bad.”
Danny beamed at him. “Thanks!”
——
Danny chucked a chimichanga at Red Hood.
“Wait a minute, you’re a crime lord! Being a goon was way less illegal than being a vigilante crime lord!”
Red Hood cackled at him.
#danny phantom#red hood#batman#jason todd#dc x dp#dpxdc#bamf danny phantom#Danny the extrovert who adopted Jason the introvert
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The Drakes
It's been years since the Bats had seen Red Robin much less Tim Drake-Wayne. It started with a rather dumb argument that after years of holding back his tongue and the stress of being a TEENAGE CEO that Tim finally ripped into them.
They were too stunned by the end of his speech, him also admitting that yes he has his own problems and mistakes but at least he's trying to make amends or get over himself unlike others. It was their prolonged silence that was the final straw for him it seemed though, because Tim finally announced he was done, he was done bleeding for those that kept him on the edge of the family and that he wanted to rest, and with that Tim turned and left the Batcave for the final time.
They of course didn't take Tim's retirement announcement seriously, after all Tim was the last person other than Bruce they all believed would ever leave the life of a vigilante and a hero behind, and they all knew Bruce would keep working on the 'mission' even as a frail old man. It took them a few weeks before one of them finally decided to go see Tim and try to... talk about everything he said.
Only when they reached Tim's Nest, they discovered it was empty and he was no where to be found did they realize he was serious. It was a quick call to Wayne Enterprises to see if he was in and Tam no doubt holding back her sharp response to them that she told them that Tim had stepped down from CEO weeks ago and hasn't been heard from since. The one who went to see Tim immediately called the others, which sent many of them onto goose chase of false leads, arguments, and pointing blame.
Despite looking for their long lost Red Robin, he was good at hiding his tracks and any who might have an idea where he could be weren't talking.
So yeah it's been a while since the Bats had heard any news relating to their lost bird.
So imagine their surprise when Ra's latest attempt to upset the balance in their family again (did he want Damian to return as his heir? Take control over Gotham in the shadow? Upset Bruce? None of them honestly knew what his plan was anymore. Same old song and dance) and having captured them all that he brought up Tim to them. Or rather "shame the Detective is going to be late, but I'm sure his little family shall inform of things once he gets here."
None of them were expecting for Ra's to look away from them and with a snap of his fingers, three assassins brought forth into the room two others. One was being dragged by two assassins, black hair, pale skin, and lean swimmers build of a body. He looked roughly around the age Tim would be. He was placed on the floor right by Ra's boots, arms and legs tied up, clearly but alarmingly breathing low and slow from the raise and fall of their chest. He wore a simple T-shirt but had dark jacket that was covered in stars, NASA logos, and other galaxy themed patches all over it, his dark jeans also held some star patches but also held everyday stains from being outside in the grass and other normal day to day thing. All in all this person seems like a normal civilian individual and none of the Bats knew why Ra's had taken him.
The other assassin that had walked into the room was holding a toddler, a girl from the little pigtails on her messy head indicated. Her hair was just as dark as the passed out male by Ra's and her skin was shade healthier than him. She wore grass stained and messy paints caked overalls with a plan shirt under it and two different kinds of kids shoes (one was a green with dinosaurs and the other blue with little stars). She, unlike the young man on the floor, was awake and was looking around the room while sucking her thumb in clear distress, she also used her free hand that wasn't in her mouth to push the assassin holding onto her away from her as far as she could and was squirming her tiny legs enough to kick their sides. Thankfully the assassin didn't look too hostile or upset meaning she wasn't doing to much damage or being too annoying.
"What a lovely family the Timothy has gained for himself don't you think? I will admit Daniel put up a rather interesting fight, it was only due to us having the element of surprise that we managed to take him down and his little Eleanor has his fighting spirit it seems." Ra's said as he slowly reached over to the toddler to lightly fiddle (just to unnerve them as well) with her hair. However the moment he touched her hair, the little girl's eyes flashed from frosty blue to neon bright green and she had spat her thumb out of her mouth in order to hiss like a cat at him, her little feet kicking hard enough to cause a small 'oomph' from the one holding her.
Ra's gave an amused chuckle as he stared at the toddler in fascination before also casting his gaze down at the passed out young man, remembering the way his eyes also had flashed from blue to green and the amount of power he had saw bubble to the surface when they had ambushed the two in their home. As Ra's said before, if they hadn't had the element of surprise on their side when they went after Timothy's little family it wouldn't had worked. No doubt little Eleanor Drake was a hint of power Daniel Drake held.
Ra's turned to look at the Bats, and could clearly see the emotions on their faces which amused Ra's deeply, and couldn't help but say "Although I wasn't expecting him to marry a being with pure Lazarus blood flowing in their veins. Quite a interesting discovery that was. And that his offspring seemed to carry it also from birth. What lovely and priceless boons he has granted the League to have once he joins us."
Ra's could clearly see the questioning, fear (for the family in his clutches), confusion, and disbelief on the Bats faces and knew it would be so entertaining to watch the little.. family reunion he had set into motion.
He was so amused watching Batman the others he never noticed the light twitch on Daniel's face or the shifting breathing pattern. When he would later check to see of the large amount of tranquilizers they had given Daniel was still in-effect he was none the wiser that it had already wore off and that Danny was merely bidding his time for a opening.
#danny phantom#danny fenton#dp x dc#crossover#blue rambles#writing ideas#random idea#danny phantom dc#dpxdc#Tim and Danny had meet when they were 13 and 14#they meet during Tim's training in Paris when becoming Robin and Danny had wanted some time alone to think after beating his future evilsel#Danny had flown far to clear his head and didnt notice he was in Paris until he ran into Tim and Tim tried talking French to him#they did become friends#because this is during then time Bruce wasnt... ok. Tim wasnt willing to tell him he made a ghosty friend#thus kept Danny his little secret#Danny was the person Tim talked to about everything#well almost. He didnt wanna burden his friend during the time Kon and Bart died or when Batman was thought to be dead too#Danny had felt hurt during that tbh and bit did strain their friendship for a bit but they talked about it.#Danny likes talking to Tim because he gets it#he gets and understands the stress of being a teen hero with so much responsibility#understands the worry and stress that his friends or Jazz dont get#Tim was the one that helped Danny understand that despite his parents loving him. that their work should never ever come first#Eleanor is Danielle btw#she had destabilized a few years ago#and only thanks to CW Frostbite and Tim's help they managed to save what they could of her#meaning she had to be deaged with Tim's human DNA to stabilizes her halfa genes#Tim is not going to be a happy when he storms Ra's little base btw#not at all#and neither is Danny tbh#brain dead
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how would benrey transformer meet gordon?
Ok, I have to preface this by stating I am not a writer. So if any of this sounds dumb. That’s why.
Anyway, I'm gonna infodump to you about my tf au now. This is gonna be kinda like an outline for a fic if I ever would write a fic about it. Don't take it too seriously.
Benrey is a defected Decepticon living on Earth. He arrived on Earth with a couple other bots, but they found him annoying and ditched his ass pretty early on. Not that he really cared much, he prefers to be on his own anyway.
Benrey hangs around on Earth for a while. He finds human culture fascinating and decides to observe it from a distance.
Unfortunately for Benrey, Energon is pretty hard to come by on Earth. He soon realizes that being a Cybertronian living on his own on Earth is almost certainly a death sentence without a proper source of Energon.
So, he begins searching for a source. He knows he can’t really go back to the Decepticons, after defecting there's no way he’d expect any sympathy from them. Going to the Autobots is obviously out of the question. He’s desperate, but he’s not low enough to go crawling to the Autobots begging for help.
Through his searching Benrey eventually catches wind of a certain research facility located in New Mexico, USA. From what Benrey is able to gather, Black Mesa Research Facility has either located a rare on planet Energon source, or has developed technology similar enough to Cybertronian technology that they are able to synthesize their own Energon.
While this is wonderful news to Benrey, he also learns that Black Mesa may have captured several other Cybertronians that had been living on Earth similar to himself. He has no doubt that whatever Black Mesa is doing with these Cybertronians, it doesn’t seem pleasant. Unfortunately, this is Benrey’s only lead, he has no choice but to go through with it. Carefully.
Then like a dumbass, on his way to Black Mesa his Energon reserves run dangerously low. This forces him into a semi-comatose state in the middle of an abandoned desert freeway.
Enter, Gordon Freeman. Gordon is a 27 year old new hire at Black Mesa Research Facility in New Mexico, USA. He has just recently moved across the country, leaving behind his friends and family to grab this once in a lifetime chance to work at the mysterious research facility. He’s finally found a use for the stupid degree that he worked so hard on. By god, is he gonna use it.
Just a little while after getting settled into his new life, his trusty old "dad car" finally kicks the bucket. A begrudging and sad Gordon gathers up what little savings he has and heads to the nearest used car lot.
When he arrives Gordon is less than thrilled. He wasn’t looking for the fanciest car in the first place, god knows he can’t afford that, but so many of these poor old cars look beat to hell and back.
Eventually, Gordon does find something that catches his eye. It’s a big dark blue SUV. It’s absolutely caked in dust and has a couple good scratches and dents, but other than that it seems to be in alright condition. It drives and that’s all Gordon’s really looking for. Though, he does notice a strange looking purple logo on the steering wheel. He decides not to pay it much mind.
When Benrey wakes up he’s somewhere he’s never been before. Not that he’s been to very many places on Earth, but this place is completely unfamiliar. It's an uncomfortably tight space with gray walls and a cold concrete floor. He figures he’d been offline for at least a couple weeks, his Energon reserve’s weak attempt to keep him from burning through it completely.
He decides to stay put, not wanting to waste what little Energon he has left, and also because he’s genuinely curious about where he’s found himself. He assumes it could be some sort of human domicile?
After a few hours of waiting around, Benrey hears a door swing open and the overhead lights flick on. Standing in the doorway across from Benrey is a human.
This human has long frizzy auburn hair pulled up into a tight ponytail, a scruffy beard, cute little square glasses, and oh. Oh man. Are those freckles? Aw, he’s kinda cute. Haha- whuh, oh shit, he’s walking over here?
Gordon drives Benrey right into Black Mesa, unaware that his new car is a sentient alien trying to steal from the facility.
Benrey is thrilled that he’s made it into Black Mesa and he didn’t even have to do anything. But, his excitement is short-lived. Now comes the hardest part, actually getting to the Energon source inside.
After observing his human captor(?) enter the depths of the facility without problem Benrey devises a fool proof plan to get what he wants.
While on his way home from Black Mesa Gordon notices when his new car starts to act strange. Very strange. Abruptly, all control of the vehicle is ripped away from Gordon as it veers off the road on its own accord. Speeding through the sparse foliage and rough terrain of the New Mexico desert, Benrey takes Gordon far away from prying human eyes.
Once Benrey is certain there are no other humans around for miles he unlocks his doors and boots Gordon out of the driver seat onto the dusty desert ground.
Gordon stares up in terror, shock, and genuine confusion at the sight unfolding (literally) in front of him as Benrey transforms. Benrey looms over Gordon as he puts on his very best “scary Decepticon looking to get what he wants” face.
Benrey tries his hardest to get Gordon to fear him, to submit to his master plan of forcing the human to grab the Energon for him. For a bit it works, Benrey is HUGE compared to Gordon and could easily squash him like a bug. Not that Benrey would really wanna do that, that would be kinda icky.
Then, in classic Benrey fashion, he says something ridiculous that has Gordon going from cowering in fear to doubling over with disbelief and laughter.
'Benrey: C’mon man, i'm trying to be scary here. Stop laughin’ at me. You even got the credentials to be out here driving, man? Pretty shit at it. You got the papers? You got a, uh- a passport?
Gordon: I- I’m sorry it's just- Wait, passport? Do you mean like a- a driver’s license?
Benrey: huh?
Gordon: What the actual fuck are you talking about, man?'
The two of them eventually calm down enough that Gordon isn’t screaming in fear or babbling in disbelief. Benrey explains to Gordon his predicament and why he needs him to go through with his “expert plan” to get to the Energon.
Gordon, for one, isn’t buying it. Gordon argues that there’s no way he’s putting the dream job he just got on the line to help the weird terrifying evil car that kidnapped him.
Benrey looms over Gordon again, Benrey’s metal face coming closer to Gordon’s than ever before. He leers him down at him, which Gordon very much takes as some sort of threat.
Then, Benrey stands, stretches his metal joints, and turns around to start walking the other direction into the desert. He tells Gordon that’s fine, and to have good luck making his way home on his own.
Gordon sputters and yells out after Benrey, shouting for him to wait. He considers his options, as much as he really does not want to help Benrey, dying alone in the middle of the desert is not on his bucket list. Not to mention that even if he does somehow make his way home on his own there's no way he could afford to buy ANOTHER car after he just bought this one. So very cautiously and begrudgingly, Gordon agrees.
In the end the two form a sort of symbiosis. Gordon gets to risk his job to help Benrey get the Energon he needs to survive, and Benrey gets to have fun driving Gordon around on cute little trips to the grocery store and stuff. The two of them might get caught by Black Mesa for their crimes in the future, but it will be fine. They should be able to handle it.
#tfvrai#hlvrai gordon#benrey#hlvrai#hlvrai au#frenrey#hope you enjoy my half assed writing#i dunno what im doing#be nice to me
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Boys will be Boys
Lmao dumb thoughts go brrrr
——-
The house is suspiciously quiet. Time narrows his eye as he shuts the front door behind him, bullshit detector already blaring. It’s too early in the evening for anyone to be asleep (except Sky, obviously) but everyone’s shoes are tucked away in the foyer closet. He can't remember the last time the house wasn't filled with the sounds of gaming or remixed club music or just outright screaming. Especially when he knows the boys are home.
He toes off his shoes and keeps his eyes peeled for their typical nonsense. Time pokes his head into the kitchen, the usual hub of activity. But there isn’t anyone there. Just a few empty plates with crumbs and the pantry doors left ajar. He closes the cabinets, eye narrowing at the faint sounds of shuffling he can hear from the other room.
His investigation takes him into the living room. Stopping in the doorway, Time blinks at the unusual scene he walks in on.
Chips and dips and other miscellaneous snacks are piled onto the coffee table. A towering stack of DVD cases leans precariously over the fireplace mantle. And all the boys are lounging about, silent as the dead. Hanging off couches, curled up on the floor, even laying on top of one another in Legend and Hyrule’s cases. All of them seemingly hyperfocused on the television.
Watching the DVD screen saver icon bounce off of the borders of the screen.
Time blinks in confusion. He turns to them. "What are you boys-?"
"Shhh!" Legend shushes him sharply, eyes glued to the screen. "Quiet...."
Confused and a little annoyed at being dismissed so harshly, Time directs his attention back to the others. None of them, not even Wild or Twilight, make any move to greet him or even acknowledge his presence. They’re all too focused on the nearly black screen.
Time looks at the television and tries to see what they are seeing. Together with all the boys, he watches the color-changing logo bounce around the edges of the 86in screen. Seconds pass as the logo moves and the boys remain stock still.
With a feeling like he’s the only one in the room left out of a joke, Time shifts his weight uneasily. He waits impatiently for something to happen but no one says or does anything. His patience is just about frayed when Time feels a sudden electricity in the air as the logo makes two quick bounces in quick succession on a corner. The boys become alive and the air gets supercharged with anticipation.
"Ohhh...!" Sky breathes in quietly.
"This is it, this is it-!" Twilight mutters.
"Sshhhh!" Legend shushes again. Over his shoulder, Hyrule squeezes the pillow in his lap tighter.
Time watches the logo approach the corner of the screen, brow furrowing in confusion. His curiosity and patience reach a breaking point and he opens his mouth to demand to know what was going on-
The logo hits the corner of the screen perfectly, dead to rights.
The boys erupt into cheers, pillows and hands thrown into the air. Twilight and Wild jump off the couch with a loud Wooooo! and Wars leans down to grab Hyrule by the shoulders and shake him in unrestrained glee while Hyrule smiles back impishly. Sky laughs at their antics and Four raises his coke into the air and cheers. Even Wind and Legend have big smiles on their faces.
Time just stares in bafflement. Twilight grins sheepishly at his reaction. The boy extradites himself from Wild's enthused hug and wanders over from the crowd of excited boys. He claps Time on the back firmly in greeting.
"Sorry about that," He gestures loosely over his shoulder at the others with a smile, "We were just trying to watch a movie earlier and couldn't decide for a while. Then the screen saver came on and then. Well, you know how it is."
No, Time does not know how it is. But he just shakes his head with a smile. The boy's cheerful bantering and calls for "Again!" soothes his frayed nerves.
Twilight's gaze flickers from the other rowdy boys to Time's briefcase, still held in hand. His brow quirks "So, did you need anything?"
"No," Time brushes off his concern with a smile. "I just wanted to let you know I was home."
———
Heehee DVD Logo shenanigans
#hsh au#townhouse au#st0rmyverse#dumb lil thing#no thoughts head empty#the HSH boys#and me my head empty too#writing dumb stuff > doing my taxes
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(Hanahaki AU tag)
They pull out of the parking lot in a kind of nearly-comfortable silence, the radio crackling with some Heart song. It’s not Eddie’s favorite, but it’s a hell of a lot better than Madonna or the Bee Gees, so he finds himself humming along. He drums on the steering wheel a little, letting the I-43 take up all of his conscious mind for a spell.
The road curves, and they’re out of the suburban sprawl, nothing but scrubby green trees and long gray warehouses on either side; it’s a straight shot all the way to the hazy hills on the horizon. Eddie takes a deep breath, and it’s like his lungs are expanding all the way up to the sky, like he can breathe in the slick blue heavens and the road dust being kicked up in their wake all at once, like the whole sun-baked world is flowing through him.
It’s a beautiful day, he thinks, and then scoffs at himself, at how mundane a thought it is. This could be—this is the last summer he’s ever gonna see. Every day had better be fucking beautiful. He’ll wring the beauty out of the world with his last breath.
———
They get far enough out, eventually, that the wildlife starts to look a little different. Eddie’s gotten a lot better at identifying Indiana wildflowers over the last few weeks, but he’s seeing more and more stuff he doesn’t recognize. He always sees black-eyed susans before too long, though. Seems like they grow wild pretty much everywhere he looks, like they’re following him around or something. He doesn’t stop to pick any more, even though the ones in the van—the ones not coated in spit and bile—are starting to get a little funky. It was such a dumb idea to have them around, like that would help at all.
They stop for the night in Salt Lake at a motel for once, because they really can’t go too much longer without showering, and Eddie chucks out whatever plant matter he can find in the van. Maybe he’s ruining the local ecosystem or something, but he doesn’t care.
Steve helps. He’s obviously a little bemused by this development, but he doesn't ask any questions, just fishes rotting stems out of the footwells before they head over to reception.
The woman behind the desk is probably thirty or so, with a dirty blonde ponytail and an ankle-length skirt; she looks deeply unimpressed with two grubby young men showing up in a beater van around sunset. Too late, Eddie thinks he probably should've sent Steve in alone to work whatever vestiges of charm have survived through the funk of having slept in a van for the last few nights. Even in a pretty innocuous t-shirt, faded enough that the ACCEPT logo and tour dates are barely legible, disreputability wafts off Eddie. The long hair, the visible tattoos, and something indefinably Munson is more than enough to make the clerk's face twist like a skunk just wandered in through the door.
"Hi," says Steve, bright and oblivious, somehow coming across as clean-cut country club despite the stubble growing in. Definitely should've sent him in solo. "Can we get a room? Two queens, if you've got 'em."
The clerk looks them up and down, taking her time about it. "You boys know where you are?"
"...Salt Lake City?" Steve looks adorably confused. "We're just passing through, ma'am."
"Might be worth passing a little faster. We don't have any vacancies right now."
Steve very obviously leans back to glance at the lit VACANCY sign outside and the utter dearth of other vehicles in the lot. "What, seriously?"
"Sign's broken," she says, cool as ice.
Eddie rubs at the bridge of his nose and pushes in, leaning his elbows on the counter. "Listen, lady, we're just. Two pals on a little roadtrip through these great United States, trying to see some nature and shit, okay? We just want a couple beds for the night, that’s all. Not looking for any trouble.”
He sees the instant the penny drops for Steve, because Steve’s face goes all flushed and scandalized and kinda mad. Eddie kicks his ankle, hard, so Steve doesn’t get all bitchy about it.
The clerk can’t be more than ten or fifteen years older than them, but she sniffs like she’s some kind of embittered dowager empress.
“Maybe I can find something,” she says. “But I hear even one single complaint, you two are out. No refunds.”
"Copy that, yep, won't be anything to hear." Eddie counts out the cash quick before she changes her mind, and steers Steve back out by the shoulder, nice and neutral.
"What the hell was that?" Steve bursts out as soon as they clear the door. "What was—"
Eddie drops his hand from Steve's shoulder and squints at the chipped number on the keychain. "You see a Room 5 around here anywhere?"
"Eddie."
"Steve."
"I'm serious."
"So'm I. Gotta pull the van around once we find it."
Steve subsides grumpily, folding his arms and peering around in the growing dusk for the door numbers. The lingering glow of the blood-orange horizon picks out the contours of his face in a hundred warm caresses, brushing copper along his cheekbones and igniting molten honey in the depths of his eyes.
Eddie will say this for Utah: it sure does have some pretty sunsets.
#hey y'all!! I've been in amsterdam getting extremely high and wandering around museums for the last 10 days instead of writing#can't help but feel that eddie would approve#but I am BACK and SOBER and hence: snippet#SLC setting is bc I was traveling with a friend from there#I spent a couple evenings sneakily trying to get him to describe the vibe of the place without letting on what I wanted to know for#it was not incredibly successful#Hanahaki AU#steddie
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Lute x Alastor Fanfiction
Another one :) @tunedradio
NSFW {Blood mention, death}
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Lute walked right next door to Alastor’s room as she knocked on the door to wait for an answer. She hummed to herself looking down at her hand and fidgeting with her fingers. She knocked once more and no answer. “Alastor?” She called out opening his door slowly. She hated walking into rooms without permission but she was worried. It was empty as she squinted her eyes and entered more into the room. Everything was in place nothing out the ordinary. “He said he would be here this morning” she felt her foot step over something as she looked down.
It was a very modern watch. “He despises modern technology…” flipping it to the back she saw the very familiar logo that belonged to Vox. “That motherfucker!” Her feathers ruffled up a bit as she stormed out of his room closing the door behind and quickly running out of the hotel. Thankfully she had wings so she could get to the vee's studio with no interruption. As she flew through the smog her eyes scanned the city just incase. Nothing. Approaching the building she landed kicking in the glass door which shattered.
There were other demons and sinners sitting in the lobby who got startled and ran into a corner. The receptionist jumped in her seat looking annoyed. Lute didn't waste time and stormed inside. "Where the fuck is he!" Her loud voice echoing down the halls. Her gold eyes passed the receptionist as she headed past her only to hear her high pitch voice speak up. "Excuse me you need to sign in" Trying to sound professional as the fallen angel turned around and darted her eyes.
"I'm not sighing up for shit until I find his little flat ass face!" Her hands slammed on the counter seeing her confused still. "Vox you dumb motherfucker!" Angrily she threw a near by vase and stomped off as the receptionist hit the panic button under her desk. One by one Lute kicked down doors In hoping to find Alastor. The first floor was a bust so she made her way to the second floor quickly. The cameras in the corner only zoomed in on her closely watching where she would head to next.
"Wow she has quite the character! Dedication to get you back huh" Vox's eyes bounced around the multiple screens that laid out in front of him as his arms were behind his back. With one foot he turned it he could spin easily to face Alastor who was tied down to a chair with blessed rope and away from his cane. His powers were very limited and didn't say much only glaring towards his direction while keeping a smile on his face. "Oh you have no idea what you got yourself into" The radio demon spoke hearing Lute's voice getting closer and closer.
The two other security guards looked at each other and nodded getting ready to fight if she was to find them. Out of the blue debris was flying everywhere from the wall where lute had managed to break through. She growled seeing her eyes glowing yellow and seeing her shadow through the dust. Slowly it cleared and you could see more of her. Lute finally got rid of her old exorcist outfit and found her own style. She kept her combat boots but wore black leggings with a dark grey body suit that had long sleeves. There were chains around her waist and a collar around her neck. A few ear piercings on her right ear. Her halo slightly distorted and her black wings with her feathers ruffled up from being mad. Lute also had horns sticking out that once belonged to her exorcist helmet that became permanent on her.
Taking a few steps up with the watch still balled up in her fist she threw it at Vox hitting him in the face making his jump. "What the fuck! Kill her!" His hand pointed at her while the other rubbed where the watch made contact with him. Both of the muscular hounds started to charge towards her with knives in their hands. Lute looks around trying to think of a game plan quickly. Pushing herself up and using her wings to give her an extra boost she jumped over them and saw Alastor.
A smile spread on her face making her way over to him. "Alastor!" She screamed almost near him but was stopped as she felt her leg being grabbed. Her head looked down to see it being held down as they pulled her back and threw her into a wall. Her back hit it as she fell down onto her stomach. Groaning a bit she got on her hands and knees pushing herself up to a crouch position. The biggest disadvantage was height and how buff they were.
It was a challenge but at this point lute didn't care. She picked up a piece of wood from the debris that was sharp enough and stood back up. She ran to one of the demons and quickly moved to the left making him miss her as she jabbed the wood into his side making him scream. She smirked seeing his blood drip from his body. "Don't fuck with me!" She warned. Her upper body was pulled back as her hands reached up for her collar that was now choking her as the other hound pulled on her collar. Vox stood aside next to Alastor while eating popcorn.
"Man I have you now and I'm about to have one of heavens fallen angels" He munched on the popcorn. A huge grin on his face seeing Lute struggle in the arms of one of his guards. "Imagine the money Valentino is going to make from just selling her to strangers" Whispering down to him just to rile him up as he placed duck tape over his mouth to not hear him. He could sense the aura he was generating as it was mainly angry and vengeance type, ready to kill vibe.
Lute scrambled in his arms as she felt his other arm wrap around her smaller body. "This one is a good one Vox" The guard grinned down as his arm was feeling the curves of her waist and his hands explored a bit too much. Alastor took mental note as his eyes just said it all when he witness what the hound said and did. Lute pulled foreword enough to break off the collar from her neck leaving red marks along the front. She leaned down to bite his arm letting her teeth sink his skin drawing blood out.
Immediately he drops her while clutching his arm and whimpering in pain. The other hound charges at her again swinging for her head but Lute dodges It and moves back a bit. Her eyes notice the long stretch of window and had an idea laid out in her head. Vox had growled getting a hold of Alastor as his face glitches a bit from anger. With the radio demon in his hand he walked over to tell other side of the room where the large panel window is at.
Lute had enough as she grabbed her angelic sword and flew right into the demon hearing her blade puncture him. It was enough to send him back into the glass falling right through. The glass shattered as bits of pieces of it flew everywhere in the room. She covered her face for a brief moment and looked up to see Vox holding Alastor in his hand and near the ledge of the building.
“Let him go!”
She wields her sword and aims it at him not making a move quite yet. She knew they hated each other but lute never knew the full story. She didn’t want to pester Alastor about it but it was clear Vox had a deep hatred relationship for him.
“I waited this fucking long for this moment! He’s going to disappear once and for all!”
With one easy push he sets Alastor off the ledge still wrapped up in blessed rope. Lute lets out a scream as she threw her sword to the side and started to run after him. She tripped feeling Vox’s hand around her ankle causing her to fall to her ankles. Her head turned to see him grinning and laughing as she tried shaking him off but no use.
“Let him fall to his death!”
The angel kicked and fought as she managed to be out of his grasp in no time. She didn’t hesitate she jumped off the building and tucked her wings in giving her an advantage to fall faster. As she got closer to him she opened her wings up slowly extending her arm out to reach for him. So close. Such little time. The ground was coming up closer than expected.
Pushing her body down more the best she could she managed to wrap both her arms his body pulling him in. Her wings opened up completely as she flapped them twice and moved up so they wouldn’t hit the floor. It was a very tight save as she held onto him tightly. Her nails somewhat digging into him as she was breathing a bit heavily. She sets him down and cuts the rope off as she was still finding her composure.
“It’s okay I’m still here”
Alastor straighten himself out and then opened his arms to her as she couldn’t help but started to cry. She went right in for his hug as her arms wrapped around him tightly. Lute let the tears fall as it got into his clothing.
“I’m sorry… I thought… I thought I was going to lose you”
Alastor had given her a reassuring hug as she calmed down a bit more sniffling a bit as she felt his hand wipe away her tears.
“Don’t worry you won’t ever have to worry about losing me”
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Catching Up
“...And while I completely understand you felt frustrated on the night you lost, that is no excuse to treat our hardworking staff members so cruelly.” A man in an indigo-colored suit and black hair tied into a bun said as he paced around the office, “Shoving them around, shouting at them on camera, do you understand how that can affect not only your image, but ours? The stadium’s as a whole?”
“Yes sir.” Octave Overload said, his posture slumped. It felt like he’s been standing in the middle of this dumb office for hours. The AC vents above him were blasting against his bare back.
“And the lockers! Oh, you should be thanking your lucky stars that Mr. Macho Man paid for the repair of your locker, otherwise we would have had to take money out of your payment. And we don’t want that happening, now do we?” The man walked behind his walnut-colored desk and turned his back to Overload. He looked out the window, its blinds were open, letting in a little too much sunlight.
“No sir.” Octave rolled his eyes.
The office was clean. Obnoxiously so.
The desk in front of Octave had a clean, white cup with WVBA’s logo on it, filled with pens that looked as though they'd never been clicked once. Beside the cup was some sorta small indoor plant in a black pot that Octave swore was plastic, and on the far left end of the desk was a black lamp whose head was pointing down at a stack of neat papers.
The black bookcases pressed against the white walls all had shelves filled with books arranged by color, and they made this already small room feel even smaller. Even while standing in the smack center of the office–right on top of a large, round, dark blue rug which also had the WVBA’s logo on it–Octave was able to read nearly every title on the spine of nearly every book. None of them looked like they had ever been opened, some were still in their plastic wrappings.
The wall behind Octave–where the maplewood door stood–didn’t have anything interesting on it. No photos, no shelves, just a few, thin blue lines painted across. There were two fabric-padded chairs behind him that he could sit on, but just by glancing at them, Octave knew they wouldn’t be comfortable.
“Exactly.” The man said, bringing Octave’s attention back to the conversation, if you could even call it that. “Now, this little meeting of ours is in no way meant to target you.”
There was a hint of optimism in his voice. Octave couldn’t help but roll his eyes again.
“If I had met with Mr. Ryan, or Mr. Soda, or any of the other boxers, really, this conversation would have been the same.” He finally turned back to face Octave again. Octave’s eyes went anywhere but the man’s face.
“Understood, sir.” He ended up staring at one of the framed certificates placed beside the window. Fancy, golden-bordered papers with the words ‘Certified Community Manager’ plastered on them with fancy-looking fonts. Those were the only things here that Octave considered ‘decoration’.
If it weren’t for those certificates–on top of the fact Overload has been dragged here multiple times before–he would have never guessed this room belonged to a Community Manager. There wasn’t anything here that really screamed ‘Community’. There wasn’t anything here that showed any sign of personality. Would it kill the guy to hang a poster up? Slap a sticker somewhere?
Every other office Octave passed by before, he’d peer through the window and get a good look at walls with crowded calendars and old posters of favorite boxers. Some offices had loads of plants in them, some had shelves filled with merchandise, heck, he even saw an office that had an old punching bag in the corner.
You know what this office reminded Octave of? It reminded Octave of those office advertisements he’d see in Von Kaiser’s magazines. The ones that took up an entire page and showed off all the great deals they had on desks and chairs. The ones that had their offices so clean, so neatly arranged, that it looked soulless.
“I just want to look out for you and your career…” The manager said before he took a deep breath.
Oh boy.
Octave prepared himself. He was probably gonna say: ‘You should use this as an opportunity to learn and grow’ or some stupid crap.
“...And I want you to use our time together as a moment of self reflection.”
Close enough.
“Ya got, sir.”
He gave Octave a big, bright, punchable smile, “Good. Do you have any questions? Is there anything that needs repeating?”
“No sir.”
“Alright, you have a good day, Mr. Overload.”
“Yeah, yeah.” Octave muttered as he turned around and left. He wanted to slam that door shut–he really wanted to slam that door shut–but he didn’t. He knew Mr. Manager over there would lecture him for an extra ten minutes if he did.
Octave wrapped his thumbs around his white belt and grumbled as he walked down the pristine hall of the third floor, where nothing but office doors and giant windows decorated the walls. The floor below him was absolutely spotless, to the point he could see his reflection in it, and no matter how he walked, his shoes emitted a piercing, quick squeak.
Just like that dingy office, the third floor was also way too bright. Bad enough there’s these giant windows on both sides of the wall where Octave had full view of the clear, blue skies that felt as though it was mocking his miserable morning, but hanging above him were white, fluorescent lights that were an eyesore to look at.
90% of this hallway was nothing but windows, did they really need all those lights? He hated it.
You know what else he hated?
How much of a waste of time that ‘meeting’ was.
He climbed up all those stairs and stood in some stupid office for nearly an hour all because some bozo–who didn’t even have his own name on his name tag–got all up-in-arms over his ‘behavior’.
Octave could’ve spent that last hour in the training room, or talking on the phone with Great Tiger, or pass some time in the locker room making–
Octave’s eyes snapped open.
At the far other end of the hall–right where the stairs were–was Super Macho Man.
Why in the world was he coming up here?
Octave’s eyes darted around, desperately looking for an escape–a place to hide–before they landed back on Super Macho Man, who’s face lit up when he saw him.
Octave spun back around and hurried to the manager’s office.
He frantically opened the door and poked his head through, “Actually, sir, ya think ya can run that whole speech by me again? I wasn’t payin’ any attenti–”
Before Octave could finish that sentence, he was suddenly swept off his feet.
“Overload! How ya doin’, sport?” Macho said, holding Octave to his side as if he were a briefcase.
Octave struggled against his grip, attempting to wriggle out in any way he could before he accepted his fate and went limp, “Terrible.”
Macho laughed, “With th’great humor as always, Overload.” He ruffled Octave’s hair, which was already getting ruined against Macho’s fluffy, thick, cobalt-blue robe, “Say, whatcha been up to?”
“I was gonna go to th’locker room, but–” Octave suddenly gagged. Something on Macho Man reeked of rosemary. He wasn’t sure if it was a type of cologne, the robe, or just Macho himself, but either way, it was strong.
Macho’s smile grew, “Ey, same here! Why don’t we go together?”
“I’d rather get mauled.” Octave said. Not that it mattered. Macho was already carrying down the hall.
Macho then took a deep breath and sighed happily.
“I remember when I used to get calls from th’higher ups when I was younger… They’d always want me to go their fancy li’l offices ‘n talk about ‘my attitude’ ‘n junk like that.” The clinking of Macho’s golden necklace was starting to fight for Octave’s attention, “But did I ever show up? Psh, hardly, and it drove ‘em nuts. Heck, they hated it so much they ended up comin’ to my place. Crazy, right?”
Octave didn’t answer. Maybe if he kept quiet, Macho would get bored and drop him.
“Like, I didn’t even have a mansion yet, so it was kinda embarrassin’. Anyways, I used to…”
As Macho Man rambled, Octave looked out the giant windows they walked by. He looked at the busy streets below them. He thought about lunging himself out a window and freeing himself from this agony. The impact with the pavement would probably be less painful than this.
“...And they’d alwaaayyyss get on my case bout if I kept actin’ up, I’d ruin my reputation or whatever, but I didn’t care back cause I was startin’ to rake up cash and babes. So I thought…”
If Octave could escape, he would. But it wasn’t exactly easy to slip out of a World Circuit Boxer’s grasp.
“...Like not to brag or anythin’, but when I was younger, my reputation was through th’roof. It still is today but like, even with my ‘attitude’, people back then were crazy over me…”
Macho approached the murky green double doors that led to the stairways. The sign ‘F3′ was painted on them in white.
Macho grabbed hold of one of the knobs and swung the door open. He walked through, completely unfazed as the door hit the wall with a ‘BANG’ loud enough to fill the entire third floor.
Octave glanced down at the multiple sets of u-shaped stairs that awaited for them and groaned.
“...And I still didn’t get what th’other guys were gettin’ all mad bout, not just those suit guys, but…”
Octave’s eyes traveled down to the tiny, round lights built into the sides of the dreary, dark gray walls, which produced just enough light to barely illuminate the black steps below them. They were the only light sources here, actually. There weren’t any on the ceiling, so it looked like the walls ascended into the abyss, and unlike the third floor, there weren’t any windows for some reason.
“...Like, I didn’t see what th’big deal was! I was just boxin’, gettin’ babes, rakin’ in money, but they…”
There weren’t any decorations either. No sappy motivational posters on the walls, no signs or maps of the stadium, no flags hanging down, nothing. The only thing that broke up the gray walls were thick, dark-blue, horizontal lines that stretched across them. But because there was hardly any light here, they were barely noticeable.
“...Even th’other boxers were complainin’ bout me, could ya believe it?! Me?! I remembered…”
It sort of reminded Octave of the stairs that led to the stadium’s bar, minus the blaring music and crowd of drunk people.
“...And th’sponsorships, oh, don’t even get me started on th’sponsorships! The higher ups started threatenin’ that I’d lose all my sponsors or whatever just cause of some hurt feelin’s…”
Octave stared at the set of doors they were slowly descending to. Above it was a thin, flickering white light that shone down on the ‘F1’ sign. These stairs were for staff members only, so it was rare for people to swarm this place. Throughout the times Octave’s come here to escape the ruckus of the stadium, he couldn’t recall the last time he saw more than three people pass through here. Honestly, the staircase felt lifeless. Abandoned.
“...As if sponsors ever cared bout morality ‘n people ‘n junk. Trust me, after years of workin’ with a whole lotta ‘em, I can absolutely say they don’t…”
It’s not like Octave was complaining about being lonely or something whenever he was here, if anything, he loved how empty it was. No tacky decor, no eyesore colors, no clamoring mouths, nothing. Just him.
“...They used to advertise WVBA-themed cigarette boxes, ya know. Flashy colors, flashy pictures, ‘n kids used to buy a whole lotta ‘em. So I was like–if ya can sell cigs to kids, clearly ya don’t care bout ya audience like you’re hypin’ yourself up to…”
It was dark, it was barren, and it was perfect.
“...I didn’t want my face slapped onto an $11 box worth’a cigs. I knew better than that. I had my face put onto one of ‘em luxury cigars instead. Ya know, th’ones that last ya at least an hour. The good stuff that’s worth ya money–not that I’m sayin’ ya should smoke! Don’t smoke, Overload. Wait, I’m gettin’ off topic...”
Octave wanted to slam his head against the wall. You know what would make these stairs even better? Not having some meathead of a boxer running his mouth while hauling him around.
Octave wished his arms were free at the very least to he could cover his ears–
Shoot, speaking of boxers–
Octave’s eyes darted back to the doors of the first floor.
He prayed that there weren’t any boxers roaming the halls. The last thing he needed today was someone seeing him like this.
The only person he remembers seeing earlier this morning was Piston Hondo. Just thinking about Eyebrows was enough to make Octave grumble.
Sure, compared to some other boxers, Hondo wouldn’t be the worst guy to catch him like this, but Octave just knows the moment Hondo sees him stuck with Macho, he’s gonna give him his usual, judgmental, ‘You’re so below me’ glare before turning the other way.
Hopefully Hondo’s locked up in the training room. Or left the stadium. Or dead.
“Oh! Speakin’ of worth–” Macho said, snapping Octave out of his thoughts, “Didja like what I did to ya locker?”
Octave glanced at Macho. Macho was grinning eagerly. Octave sighed.
“Yeah. Looked good.”
It was honestly a surprise to see his locker all fixed up and dent-free so early in the morning. He remembered the relief that washed over him when he realized he didn’t have to be stuck with a dingy, busted up one for the next few weeks. Then he saw the note taped to his locker.
He remembered the dread that filled him as he read the words: ‘Courtesy of Super Macho Man’s Super Cleaning Crew’.
When he read that note, he knew–he just knew–that Macho Man was gonna hunt him down and brag about his ‘good deed’, he just didn’t know it’d be this soon.
“And whadda bout that gift I gotcha?” Macho asked as he opened the doors to the first floor.
“Gift?”
Macho flashed him a puzzled look as he stepped into the hall, “Didja not open ya locker or somethin’? Pretty sure I slipped it in there. Thought ya’d like it.”
Octave took a deep breath, expecting to get a lungful of the usual sharp, citrus smell that came from the cleaning chemicals used to scrub the halls, but Macho’s rosemary cologne–detergent–whatever, somehow managed to overpower that.
“If it’s another robe I’m gonna burn it.”
“Nah, my gift-robes are one of a kind. If I made copies they wouldn’t be as valuable, ya know? Ya wear the one I gotcha?”
“No.”
Macho gave him that filthy thing months ago. Octave didn’t even bother taking it out of its plastic wrapping. He tried to throw it away in the stadium’s trash cans, but every time–without fail–Macho Man managed to find it, hurry back to Octave, tell him he accidentally threw it away, then shoved it back into his arms.
So Octave–unfortunately–had to take it home.
He ended up throwing it into his closet. He keeps telling himself he’s gonna throw that disease-ridden robe out soon, but he keeps forgetting.
So it just stays in his closet.
Mocking him.
“Ya should, it’s made outta wool. Real wool. Not that fake, flashy stuff they sell at stores. Plus it’s purple! Matches your eyes, ya know? Oh, right! Ya gift–”
As Macho started patting the pockets of his robe, Octave brought his head up and scanned the nameplates of the doors they passed. Janitor’s closet, bathrooms, supply room, they passed another hallway that led to even more rooms, another supply room… They’re getting close to the locker room. It’s just a straight walk from here. Octave couldn’t wait to be free from this–
A sudden humming caught his attention.
Octave snapped his head forward.
His face dropped when he saw Disco Kid heading towards them.
He was listening to whatever garbage music he had on his walkman. He had the cushions of his light blue headphones pressed tightly to his ears as he bobbed his head along with his eyes squeezed shut. His white tennis shoes were squeaking across the floor, he was drumming his hands against his dusty blue shorts. He was absolutely oblivious to what was in front of him.
Okay, his eyes are shut.
That’s great–that’s more than great! That gives Octave the chance to try and wriggle out again.
But as soon as Octave tried to squeeze out of Macho’s grip, Disco opened his eyes.
And they locked onto Octave’s.
His once happy expression turned to absolute bewilderment.
His eyes were wide, his mouth hung open.
Octave wanted to die.
As Disco and Macho Man grew closer to each other, Disco shut his mouth.
His eyes, however, stayed glued on Octave.
Octave glared Disco down the entire time.
As soon as Macho passed Disco–the absolute moment they passed him–Octave watched Disco slap his hand over his mouth in an attempt to stifle a laugh.
Octave grit his teeth.
That noisy freak.
That blubbering bozo
That ruckus-making rat.
Octave couldn’t wait to get out of Macho’s grasp so he could give Disco a piece of his mind–
“Found it!”
A framed photo was shoved into Octave’s face, blocking Disco Kid from his view
Octave cocked his head to the side–only to see Disco had vanished.
Octave’s eyes darted around. Did he turn a corner? Hide in a room? He didn’t hear any doors open, so where did–Macho Man shoved the frame further in his face.
His blood started to boil.
He wanted to grab that stupid photo and chuck it to the ground. He wanted to stomp it into little pieces till glass started to ride up his foot. He wanted to–
Confusion flickered inside of Octave for a second.
There wasn’t even a photo inside the gold frame, just a newspaper clipping.
Macho finally stopped in front of the gray, scratched up door of the locker room.
He kept the clipping in front of Octave’s face.
Octave blinked and looked up at him. Macho just raised his brows, urging him to read it.
So he did.
Then he looked back to Macho, who looked like he was waiting for a response.
Octave sighed for what felt like an eternity before he finally said, “Cool.”
He didn’t even try to sound enthusiastic.
“I knew ya’d love it.” Macho beamed. He then set Overload back on his feet and shoved the framed clipping into his hands before ruffling his hair.
“Feel free to hang that bad boy anywhere in ya locker. Give it some good ol’ Macho charm.” Macho Man said with a flex of a bicep. He then popped open the locker room door, “I gotta call Sandy, but I’m real glad we got to bond like this today. We gotta do it more often!”
“Yeah, yeah, yeah.” Octave started stomping off to wherever Disco Kid went to. He was not getting off that easily.
As soon as Octave turned a left corner, he heard Macho holler a ‘Be good!’ Behind him, followed by a door slamming.
Octave gripped onto the frame so hard he thought the glass was going to shatter.
Disco Kid’s stupid smirk filled his mind. His stupid face, his stupid, tacky clothes, his stupid music, his stupid humming–and the way he nearly laughed at Octave as if he wasn’t the biggest joke in this stadium, right next to Glass Joe.
You want something to laugh at? You want something funny? How about a 20 year old who ran off and tattled to Macho Man over some stupid walkman being thrown around.
Oh yeah, like Octave could forget that. Like he was gonna let Disco slide–
Octave stopped in front of a half-full trash can.
He chucked the dumb frame in there and continued through the halls.
A faint hum started to prod at Octave.
His eyes narrowed as he followed the sound.
The fact Disco even felt like he had to complain to Macho about that walkman was ridiculous.
Disco’s a boxer. A grown man.
If he could survive several punches to that big head of his, he could survive one of his devices getting busted–it’s not like Octave even broke the dang thing either!
He just threw it back and forth, but no, Disco couldn’t tough it out. He just had to go crying to some World Circuit chump. That’s why he’s still in the minor circuit.
If Disco had just toughed it up, Octave wouldn't have been dragged out of the locker room in front of Hondo and Don.
If he had just toughed it up, Octave wouldn’t be storming through these sickly green halls looking for him right now.
The hum grew louder.
Octave’s speed picked up.
The colors of those tacky posters plastered all around started to blur together.
The hum grew even louder.
The frigid air stung his face.
Octave took another left, and that’s when he saw him.
That oversaturated idiot.
Octave’s eyes were glued onto Disco. Onto the back of his head.
There was nothing more that Octave would love to do than to crush him like the fly he was.
As soon as Octave was close enough to Disco, he grabbed him by the collar of his light blue varsity jacket and spun him around.
Octave slammed him against the walls, “Thanks for rattin’ me out to Macho jus’ cause ya got ya feelin’s hurt. What are ya, four?”
Disco blinked away his surprise and tore his headphones off, “I could be askin’ you the same thing.”
“I ain’t the one who went cryin’ to some World Circuit freak over a dingy toy bein’ tossed around.”
“Toy–!?” Disco sputtered, he grabbed onto Octave’s wrist, “It’s my walkman, my stuff, and I don’t like it bein’ thrown like–”
Before Disco could get another word out, Octave pushed him up against the wall, lifting his feet inches off the floor.
“Yeah, and that wouldn’t have happened if ya kept ya garbage music down.”
“I could’ve been standin’ there breathin’ and you would’ve gotten on me bout it!” Disco snapped at him, feet scraping against the walls in an attempt to try and reach the ground, “Can’t believe this is all happenin’ just cause Macho Man told ya to quit actin’ like such a–”
Octave dragged Disco down the wall and slammed him onto the floor, “Lotta big talk comin’ from th’guy with 12 losses.”
“And who’s the guy with 21?” Disco glared.
Octave’s grip on the jacket tightened. He yanked Disco closer to his face.
“Th’same guy who’s in th’Major Circuit.” He growled.
Disco’s eyes narrowed.
“If ya gotta problem with me, ya can say it to my face.” Octave pulled Disco even closer to the point where their noses touched, “Anythin’ ya wanna yap bout now? I’m all ears.”
Disco scowled and faced away.
“That’s what I thought. Ain’t nothin’ but a wuss.” He finally let go of Disco, “How bout ya keep ya trap shut from now on, ‘n we can avoid moments like this. How’s that sound?”
“Whatever, man.”
Octave stood there for a moment more, glaring down at that Minor-Circuit-nobody before he marched off, leaving Disco all alone.
~ ~ ~ ~
Piston Hondo stepped out of the training room and wiped the sweat off his face with a white towel. He then draped it around his neck and held his half-empty water bottle close to his chest.
His gray tank top was completely drenched in sweat. He didn’t remember what part of him had the excellent idea of wearing a top during a training session, he ruins them too quickly.
At least he had an extra top in his gym bag.
The metal doors behind him shut. He leaned against them.
His breaths were fast and heavy, his heart was pounding, yet that workout still didn’t feel like it was enough.
He gripped onto his waterbottle just a bit tighter before unscrewing the cap and taking a swig.
The water was lukewarm. It felt terrible down his throat.
He didn’t want to take a break–it disrupted the flow of his training–but he promised Bear Hugger he’d do so.
It’s not like Bear Hugger would know if he did take a break or not, but the guilt that’d come from lying to his friend wouldn’t sit well with him. So here he was, outside of the training room, alone.
He’d been working hard for over an hour, that’s something to be proud of, isn’t it?
Hondo pulled the bottle away and looked at his warped reflection on the plastic.
The longer he stared at his tired, sweaty face, the worse he started to feel about being on this break. It hadn’t even been five minutes.
He shoved the bottle into the deep pocket of his black shorts and folded his arms. He stared at the poster-covered wall across from him.
A part of Hondo wanted to walk around the halls, stretch his legs, but he promised Disco Kid he’d watch over his belongings until he came back.
But Disco Kid was… Taking a while.
Admittedly, when Disco popped his head in and asked Hondo if he could watch over his gym bag, Hondo was only partially paying attention. He was far too focused on his training. So he wasn’t necessarily sure if Disco had gone out to get something from his locker or if he had gotten sidetracked.
Either way, Hondo wasn’t going to be in the training room forever, and he didn’t want to leave and risk Disco’s belongings getting stolen.
Hondo lowered his brows before he pushed himself off the door and started navigating through the halls.
‘I can look in the locker room first.’ Hondo thought to himself as he took a right, ‘If there’s no sign of him there, I’ll check the other halls.’
Hondo eyed the doors he passed by. He doubted Disco was hanging inside the staff’s breakroom or the electrical room.
‘And what if he is not in these halls?’
Hondo brought his head down and looked at the ground.
If Disco went to any of the main floors, Hondo would have to wait for him to return. He already wasn’t fond of the chaos that took over the stadium during the day, and stepping out there in sweaty clothes, wasting away time that could’ve been spent towards training? It didn’t sound ideal.
Perhaps he should–
Hondo stopped.
Faintly, just faintly, he could hear a distant conversation.
He looked to the left where the voices seemed to be coming from and started to head over there.
He clasped his hands behind his back.
His steps quickened.
The voices grew louder.
One was obviously Disco’s, the other’s–
Hondo froze.
At the far end of the hall was Disco Kid being held up against the wall by Octave Overload.
Hondo’s eyes widened as he watched the scene play out.
He tried to walk again, but it felt as though his shoes were cement.
He slowed by a corner and hid behind it.
As he peered his head out, watching from afar, a horrible sensation started to build inside of him.
Anger, disgust, humiliation, he wasn’t sure, but as he kept watching, that feeling only grew worse.
‘Intervene.’ Something in the back of his mind said.
He didn’t move an inch.
His face started to burn.
If Overload snapped at Bear Hugger for showing concern–if Overload punched his locker over Hondo simply walking towards him–then who knows how he'd react if Hondo attempted to separate the two.
Hondo didn’t want to take the risk.
It’d be safer to wait it out.
It wasn’t like Overload was attacking Disco–
Right as Hondo thought that, he watched Octave drop Disco onto the floor and tower above him. That vile feeling clawed through his throat and into his head, pushing him–demanding him–to stop Octave, but Hondo knew better. So he remained.
He was so focused on watching the two–on making sure Overload wouldn’t hurt Disco–that he wasn’t even listening to what the two were saying.
He just kept watching and watching, fingers digging holes into the posters on the walls, until Overload finally left.
But he still waited.
He waited until Octave reached the very end of the hall and turned a corner. He waited until he was completely out of sight, until he couldn’t hear the echo of his footsteps anymore, and that’s when he rushed over to Disco’s side.
Disco was still sitting on the floor, back pressed against the wall, but he whipped his head around when he heard Hondo’s steps.
“Hey.” Disco mumbled, his voice struggling to hold any energy as he held onto his headphones.
Hondo held his hand out, “Are you alright?”
Disco grabbed hold and Hondo hoisted him to his feet.
“Yeah. How much of that did ya see?”
“Enough.”
“Yeah, well–” Disco’s mouth hung open, his brows lowered, “Thanks.”
Hondo stood there, tense, as Disco adjusted his jacket and fiddled with the wire of his headphones.
Disco then looked behind him, scanning the area before turning back to Hondo, “Guess we should get back to the trainin’ room, huh?”
It was hard to read Disco’s expression. There was a small, wavering grin on his face that felt forced, yet there weren’t any signs of Disco seeming enraged or hurt. Hondo wasn’t sure how to describe the expression, honestly. It was one he hardly sees on Disco.
“Are you sure you are alright?” Hondo asked again, feeling a hint of shame for prying.
“I’ll be good.” Disco said, taking the white walkman out of his pocket and pressing a button, “Not like he punched me or somethin’. I’ll live.”
Disco started heading back to the training room, muttering something about Octave under his breath that Hondo couldn’t quite hear.
Hondo followed behind. He watched as Disco finished messing with his walkman and shoved it back into his pocket. He then put his headphones over his ears, bobbed his head, and started to hum. Hondo watched as that familiar, energetic bounce returned to Disco’s steps.
He was glad Disco was able to move on from that miserable interaction and return to his lively self, yet for some reason, Hondo found himself unable to.
He wasn’t even the one targeted, yet those bitter feelings still pooled inside him.
Hopefully they’ll fade when he returns to his training.
~ ~ ~ ~
Macho Man leaned against his sparkling clean locker, checking out his reflection as he held his phone to his ear.
He’s so glad he hired a personal cleaning crew. No offense to WVBA’s own janitorial staff, but compared to his crew? They were garbage. Couldn’t clean their way out of a paper bag, no doubt. They didn’t have any of those high quality supplies, just the cheap, standard stuff. Man, just thinking about his poor locker being tainted by low quality garbage made Macho shudder.
He slicked back his hair and winked at himself as the phone rang–
He perked up when he heard the phone click.
“Sandy! Hey, how are ya?”
“How’d ya get my number?” Mr. Sandman asked. It sounded like he just woke up from a nap.
“Good one.” Macho snapped his finger, “Anyways, wanted to wish ya luck on your upcomin’ fight. Ya know, if ya need any one-on-one trainin’, I’d be down to take ya to my beachside mansion.”
Sandman grumbled something inaudible before he spoke, “Look, I… Appreciate it. But I don’t need your help, I’m a rank ahead of you. I’ll be good. And–and what fight?”
Macho raised a brow, not like Sandman could see it, “The fight! Ya know–” He pushed himself off his locker, “Th’one comin’ up with that guy who looks more like a banker than a boxer’.”
It was silent on the other end for a second.
“Macho, that could be literally anyone.”
“He was on the paper!” Macho exclaimed. He tried to remember what the guy looked like, but he was so generic, so boring, that all traits slipped his mind, “He was makin’ big talk bout how he was gonna destroy ya ‘n stuff.”
Sandman did everything he could to suppress a sigh, “Right, that–Macho, he was just trash talkin’. I’m not fightin’ him–he’s not even in the stadium. Just some guy hundreds of miles away who wants to punch me. We’re not fightin’.”
“Oh, bummer, you could totally beat that guy to a pulp. It’d be sick.” Macho shoved his hand into his robe’s pocket.
“Yeah, that’s–cool. Glad ya believe in me.” There was a shuffling sound on the other side, “Alright Macho, I would really like to get back to sleep. It’s late.”
“But it’s like, 11 in th’mornin’?”
“Night.”
#punch out#punch out!!#punch out wii#punch out oc#punch out super macho man#punch out disco kid#punch out piston hondo#fic#art
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dream about scourge's trauma
i was looking through a school for my boots. they were light blue and hot pink and had little black shapes all over them. they matched my shirt which was blue with a pink logo on it that said something about baseball. someone else, a dude, had a shirt just like me and i was afraid that he would think i was into baseball, too. i peeked into a bunch of different classes looking for these shoes.
eventually, i was watching a new sonic cartoon and my dad was there and was asking dumb questions about everything. apparently sonic and his friends had crashlanded on an island. shadow was there and was sleepily listening to a conversation beteen sonic, tails, and amy. everybody got assignments to go looking all over the island, but sonic told shadow that he could stay there and rest, implying that he had been injured in the crash.
next, i was watching a spiderman cartoon that had a million crazy spiderman-like characters that were all just recolors. they were mostly all villains like venom, and spiderman was extremely outnumbered but could somehow take them all on and come out victorious at the end of every episode.
then, shadow and sonic were racing around inside of a building while scourge was at a computer, trying to work on his homework. he got a flashback that started with the president laughing maniacally and then scourge was reliving something that happened in his past that scarred him. apparently, him and fiona and the destructix were being hunted by robotnik inside of his ship. they were hiding underneath and behind things and sleet was stomping around, looking for them. they eventually found a train that took them thousands of miles in just a few seconds out into the middle of no where. sleet followed them though, and it was implied that scourge and the others eventually got away, but it had been a traumatic experience for scourge.
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[Fiction] From Caged Marines to Whitebeard Pirates - Chapter 7
~A year and a month ago~
~Mariejois~
Luffy watched the interaction of the Royal Family with each other, though she made sure to stand behind the chairs of the Royal Family of Alabasta, letting them know who she's siding it. Not that it matters, to them she was just an unknown Marine guarding them all. Luffy could tell how annoyed Princess Vivi is, despite the smile on her face, and it wasn't long before they end their discussion for that day and all Royal Family left except for the Rulers of Alabasta and the Sakura Kingdom, including their companions. Once they were alone, Vivi slumps down on the table, as Dalton shakes his head.
"Can this day get any worse?" The King of Sakura Kingdom asked as he looked at Luffy, who was walking towards them, her crew standing behind her.
"Don't wish for it. It might happen." She said and gestured her head to the door, this made Vivi moan as her Father patted her back.
"How can you stand them and this place Luffy?" She asked as they all stood up and walk towards the door.
"I don't… I just black out whenever they spoke and pretend that I listened by blurting out useless suggestions to which they accepted." Luffy shrugged, as her crew snickered, Chopper talking with Doctrine and Dalton. "Celestial Dragons are dumb."
"Don't let them hear you talk like that towards them, Rear Admiral." King Cobra said as he looked over his shoulder and towards the Rear Admiral. "They might take offense of it."
"They pretty much let Luffy get away with it…" Zoro mumbled before the crew went quiet as the door leading outside the building grew closer, Chopper immediately runs towards Nami, who carried him in her arms when he stopped near her. When they were out, Luffy nodded at Robin, who immediately went towards her, while the rest continued on their way following the Rulers of the Kingdoms their Familiar with. The Young Rear Admiral made eye contact with her Right-Hand, who merely nodded, as they went away on their separate paths. As Luffy and Robin went right, and the others went left, they passed by a Celestial Dragon, who for some reason seems disappointed, then glanced at them, saw the logo on Luffy's back before blinking and said.
"Hold it right there, Rear Admiral." Luffy stopped, before turning to look at the Celestial Dragon, making eye contact with him while Robin looked at his chest.
"Is there something you want, Saint Mjosgard?" She asked rather bluntly, said Saint seemed flustered for a while upon realizing who he had called out and what said person was wearing.
"Ah… yes…" He stuttered, blushing, taking in the asymmetrical black leather skirt, showing her slightly tan legs, and the sandy color, long sleeve, off-shoulder shirt which showed her skin and a bit of her cleavage. Luffy raised an eye as he continued to stutter, though it's not obvious, she's confused as she purposely chooses the clothes that seemingly don't match each other's color. But… basing on where the eye of the Celestial Dragon is, Luffy bet it has something to do with her chest… Why oh why did she have a breast that's a bit huge than Hancock's? … She rather not know the answer after thinking about that question.
"Rear Admiral…" Robin whispered to which Luffy nodded and said to the still stuttering Saint.
"If there is something you want, Saint Mjosgard, please tell me immediately, I still need to meet up with Saint Rokudo."
"Ah right…" The Saint cleared his throat and asked. "What are the kingdoms that visited this year's Reverie?"
Luffy blinks at that question before honestly saying. "The usual, except that the Drum Kingdom is now known as Sakura and the Former King of Drum is now the Ruler of Black Drum Kingdom… why do you ask?"
"I see…" The Saint whispered before glancing around and looked at the Rear Admiral, no at Robin, who was nudged by Luffy. The Archeologist, glance at Luffy, and then at Mjosgard, who mouthed something at her. Once Robin got it, she nodded and then the Saint left, Luffy and Robin continued on their path. As they walked, Luffy snapped her fingers and slowly they got covered with a translucent, yellow mist.
"What did he say?" Luffy asked.
"He wants to talk with us after our business with Saint Rokudo… didn't say why…" Robin answered as she and Luffy turned into a corner, the older raven-haired woman added. "I still find it very hard to believe that a Celestial Dragon, a Donquixote at that, referring himself as a human…"
"Well… you're probably thinking about Doflamingo when it comes to Donquixotes' but… Saint Mjosgard is also a relative of the Former Celestial Dragon Homing… so I don't find it hard, despite the former Saint having the Mingo as a son."
"I suppose your right…" Robin agreed with her Captain's statement, before leaving Luffy's side going to the left, turning another corner, while the young Rear Admiral continued straight.
"Angel~!"
'What a pain…' Luffy thought as she braced herself for spending time with this saint.
~Two Hours Later~
Luffy was sipping tea with Robin and Saint Mjosgard, who made sure his father was not around. They just finished their… discussion, per se… and the Celestial Dragon was looking down and disappointed at what was discussed. But well… it's not like he had a choice, seeing the people he wants to help or changed him wasn't in this year's Reverie.
"Robin and I will look into this," Luffy told him, putting her empty cup down. The Saint looks at her and almost smiled but he merely nodded, saying.
"Of course, I will also watch out for the actions of the others."
"Deeply appreciated." Luffy gave him a gentle smile, tilting her head to the side, before she and Robin stood up and left, leaving the Celestial Dragon alone, who was flustered at the smile given to him. He shakes his head before standing up and went to his window, then looks down at his yard. Half an hour later, he saw Luffy and Robin leaving and head towards the direction of the building they were staying at.
"I really can't blame Saint Rokudo for wanting you… your one-of-a-kind Marine after all…"
For continuation, please click here…
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Brooklyn grinned as she strolled up to Peter, hands behind her back, something clearly hidden. She gives a faint laugh, tilting her head slightly,
"Peter, I have a gift for you."
Moving her hands, she briefly shows off the large, golden, star shape sticker she was having. Casually, she slaps it onto Peter's chest, sticking it to his suit - hopefully that doesn't mess anything up,
"I'd like to announce that you are now an honorary star child," Brooklyn tells him, "Welcome to the team!"
| Muse interaction
It was pretty surreal, to say the least, that peter was able to work with the Avengers. He still tended to do things on his own hey he was the friendly neighborhood Spider, after all, anything bigger than yeah he would get some help time to time. But he had to admit as he stared up at the Avengers tower it still filled him with a lot of emotions. The excitement of course because well he was getting to be around THE AVENGERS! Iron man, Captian America, Hulk, Black Window, Flacon, and Hawk Eye! This was big time! It was like the jocks noticing the lame geek at school and saying you could sit with them during lunch....Peter just hoped unlike at school this wasn't some ploy to hold in by his ankle with his head first in the trash can.
"Jeez Pete" he said to himself hand held out as he shoot out another web to pull himself up to the tower. He didn't think that same situation was going to happen of course. But he had to admit he was clearly the spider out of water here. Out of web may fit that better? he thought over as he landed clean on the landing strip. Moving to stand up now as he made his way inside. He just wanted to get a second opinion on something he came across the other day. He would have brought himself around sooner but? Okay, it was dumb but he always got just a bit anxious coming into the tower even if they told him all the time he was always welcomed to. Pete just couldn't explain the unsettling his stomach. Was almost like when he finally got into Hirozon. He belonged sure but he also felt like maybe he didn't truly belong here? That was dumb he was dumb right? Stopping as he sighed, shoulders slumping maybe he should leave no one knew he was here yet right? he could sneak out? Eyeing the nearest window to his left as he already was pushing against the glass to force it open.
"Peter, I have a gift for you."
He had been seen! near jumping from his place as he turned to find Brooklyn. Handset to his chest. "Man you scared me there." He overly stated as he acted out needing to let his heart settle before his ears perked at what she said. "wait you have a gift for me?" looking at how she held her hands her back. He went and pulled off his mask, eh hidden identity was blown not long ago around the tower after all. Besides Brooklyn was his friend so he could trust her not to spill it outside the tower.
"what is it?" he questioned no offense to Brook but if she could hand it behind herself it was likely small..but a full offense to Brook he had come to learn she was well. Chances were it might be something she made, food wise and he learned not to accept food from here so please don't let it be that. He couldn't afford to be sick from school right now. When she showed him the large gold sticker in her hand he just crocked his head to the side confused. "A sticker?" he offered a crooked smile to try and show he didn't mind but he didn't follow why she would give him a sticker?
She steps closer and set the stickers dead center on his chest. Placing it onto the spider logo on his suit. Also lined up like the hourglass on Black windows own. He stared down at his chest a bit arching a brow as he shifted his attention back to Brook. "uh? am I be reward for good behavior cause I need to fess up about something I broke the other day then." Her smile grew bright as she went to answer him
"I'd like to announce that you are now an honorary star child,"
Well, that wasn't expected at all, almost felt like she knew what he had been thinking lately about not feeling all that part of the team but she said Star child? that's what Nina and Brook called themselves right though a few others here did as well.. "Wait?" he blinked a little turning that over in his mind. If there were any two people he did relax around when here it was them. They had gotten along pretty well but Peter. He guessed he never realized that they. Can you get choked up in your own mind because he was feeling choked up right now?
"Welcome to the team!"
A bit stunned but he musters a smile trying not to be a complete loser over this. "Star Child uh?" touching the sticker she set on him, it likely would fall off from swinging around the city but still. He pressed his fingers in against it making sure it lay as flat as possible so as not to peel right off. "Soo, do I change my name to America spider now? Spider American even? the Star Spider?" he resorted to some dumb joking to cover how he was actually feeling. As he chuckled a bit. Setting his mask into the pocket of his suit and turning fully away from the window he was totally trying to jump out from. "Hey is Nina around too? I been working on something and I think you guys would be the right people to help me with it?" he requested. All those tense nerves settled a little by her small gesture. "shes decent with a microscope right and you're good at sneaking around? I promise its not much trouble" But the three of them together would be.
#muse| peter parker#aflockoffeathers#madamkezzie#[ when your part of the team your part of the family - aflockoffeathers]#muse interaction#stay queued#((I realized she called him peter soo he can take his mask off around her uwu))#((she wasn't a threat so spider sense wouldn't notice her that why he sppoked XD))
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big spender
pairing: hoseok x y/n (established relationship)
word count: 4.5k
genre: fluff, smut
summary:hoseok loves giving you exspensive gifts, but you--frankly--hate it. but with a little communication and a little lovin', any problem can be worked out~~
warnings:porn w/ plot, emotional character development(?), y/n crying and being down on themselves, anxious thinking, lots of praise, fingering, penetrative sex, unprotected sex
~~~~~
Your boyfriend was rich as shit, there was no getting around that.
Sometimes you would be lulled into forgetting, as you spent time with him, flowing through the rhythm of your relationship with ease and laughter. And then he’d come to your place to pick you up for a date and you’d compliment his sharp suit jacket. His beaming smile would hit you and he’d say “Thank’s jagi! It’s a new one; It’s a custom Tom Ford.” And you would once again be struck dumb with the ease at which he said it; like it was no big deal, because to him it wasn’t.
Now, he was never boastful about it, you were quick to remind yourself and others. And he deserved every luxury and comfort this earth could afford, and not just because you were so deeply in love with him. He worked so hard for his entire life, was good at his job, donated liberally, and did good every day of his life. He deserved to be able to buy nice things. The fact that he still remained so down-to-earth always amazed you. No one would ever suspect how much he was worth until they see the LV logo on his shoes.
But that didn’t mean his gifts still didn’t embarrass you so fucking much.
A lot of people would love it, if their significant other surprised them with a Chanel dress made to their measurements. Not even for a birthday, anniversary, or anything. “Just because;” he said. “You said it was beautiful when you saw it in the store window, I thought it would look even more beautiful with you in it.” Punctuated with a wink.
It was flattering as hell, but whenever you started to think of all the money he had just dropped that was now in the gift bag in your hands, it could almost make you nauseous. Your brain automatically began doing math; How many car payments would this dress be worth? How many months of rent? You always felt so bad that you had these thoughts. You wished you could just shove them away and enjoy the gift for what it was, a beautiful thing from your beautiful boyfriend that he got because he loved you.
But it could never be that easy.
That’s why, on that Friday afternoon, when Hoseok came into your apartment with a giddy little smile and a shopping bag, you felt your nerves come on.
“What is that?” You asked, eyeing the bag he placed gently on the dining table of your tiny apartment.
“Open it up and see.” He said, his face absolutely beaming.
You already felt your ears get hot. First from the embarrassment, and then from frustration at your embarrassment. Why the hell did this have to be so hard? He loves you for gods-sake, this isn’t supposed to be unpleasant.
You could feel his eyes on you, watching and waiting for your reaction with such happy expectancy.
Christ, you thought, let’s do it then.
The bag was a smooth, warm cream color, and you could smell the high-end perfume that had been sprayed into it, soaking the delicate wrapping paper. Like you were defusing a bomb, you carefully folded aside the paper and took out the box within.
It was a square, a little under a foot on each side, and flat. It was a really nice box, too. It was covered in a smooth black fabric, with some logo embossed on the top. You felt along the sides and found it was hinged, and slowly opened the top. The first thing you saw was silver satin lining.
“Hobi—“ You gasped, your face slackening with shock, “You didn’t.”
You turned to him, his face plastered with a beaming smile. “I know we said no gifts until our anniversary, but Jagiya, you would look so pretty in these, I just couldn’t stop thinking about it!” Too overcome with joy to stay away from you, he moved behind you, wrapping his arms around your waist and squeezing you with a little squeak before he rested his chin on your shoulder. “Pick them up! Get a closer look at them.”
You put the box on the dining table and gently—ever so gently—ran your fingers over the diamonds within.
There were so many of them. Tiny faceted stars dangling in various lengths from spider’s-web-thin chains. Shortest strands to the sides, longest in the very middle, where it would gently settle just above your cleavage. Each strand held several diamonds, and your brain immediately attempted the count how many there were, what the price of diamonds were nowadays, and how much your last grocery trip was.
Swear to god, you almost felt faint.
“Hoseok…” You said softly, as your brain reeled.
You could hear your boyfriend squeal and nuzzle his nose into your neck, placing several, quick kisses there. “Ahh! I knew you’d love them, Y/N! You’ll look so beautiful…” he murmured into your neck, his kisses turning more lazy and amorous.
But you hardly registered all that, as—to your horror—tears began to well up in your eyes.
You cursed yourself silently, what the fuck are you doing? Your amazing partner gives you an amazing gift and you have to act like this! Like you hate it.
Your hands shot to your face, trying to wipe away the tears before they had a chance to fall, before Hoseok could notice them.
But he had already felt your stiffness, how his kisses seemed to be doing fuck-all to you. He leaned in, to better see your face, and when he saw you wipe your eyes, his mood changed instantly. “Y/N! What’s wrong?”
He moved to stand face-to-face with you. He brought his hands to your cheeks, cradling it as the tears were now flowing freely and tiny sobs started to cut their way through your tight throat.
You couldn’t look at him now, crying, red-faced, and angry at yourself. What a perfect moment you had ruined. He wanted to do something nice for you and you had to go and ruin it by being all weird and emotional. You wanted to break away from him, run to your room like a child, cry into your pillow.
But Hoseok wasn’t going to let you do that.
“Jagi, please,” He said, his concerned face inches from yours as his thumbs wiped away tears softly. “Did something happen? Baby, please tell me what’s wrong.”
God, you thought, he’s so fucking sweet.
Your eyes locked with his, and you broke.
You wrapped your arms around him and fell into his embrace, burying your face into his shirt so at least he couldn’t see what you looked like. The sobs now came freely, making your body jump with each loud, violent inhale. Somewhere on the side of your mind, you knew that in a couple hours, you’d feel so embarrassed about how much you’d freaked out.
But Hobi didn’t care. He held you tightly, one hand petting your hair, the other bracing your back. He whispered things you couldn’t always hear, gentle shushing or “It’s okay Jagi, let it out baby…”, and everyone once in a while, he turned and kissed the side of your head.
After you had sufficiently cried it out, and your breathing had returned to normal, you wanted so badly to just leave it alone. “It’s nothing, baby, really,” or “It’s probably just PMS, I’m sorry I did that…”
But again, Hobi wouldn’t let you.
He sat you down on your couch with a cold glass of water. “Y/N,” he said, hand slowly rubbing your knee to further comfort you, “What’s wrong? Did I do something to set you off like that?”
You looked up from the glass in your hand suddenly, looking at your concerned boyfriend with your own matching concern. “No! Baby, no, you didn’t do anything wrong.”
This was your exact worst fear come true. You and your weird insecurities and hang-ups had convinced Hoseok—your beautiful, loving, hard-working and amazing Hoseok—that he had done something wrong. That him and his affection was bad and unwanted, christ, that he was unwanted—
Your spiraling thoughts were halted by Hoseok, grabbing your hand and bringing it to his lips, anchoring you to the present moment. “Then please,” he said, through a frown, “tell me what happened.”
You took another sip of water, a deep breath, and told him what you were so scared to confess for so long.
“I love you, Hobi, so much. And I know you love me, and I know you like to get me things because you love me, but— It’s just, sometimes, it’s just way too much…”
And just like that, you started spilling your guts. How uncomfortable you felt sometimes by his expensive gifts, how often he’d spend so much money on them without a second thought. The more words tumbled out of your mouth, the easier it was to talk about these unpleasant feelings. And all the while, Hobi sat there, silent and attentive, occasionally nodding or humming in acknowledgement.
After some minutes, your brain and your water glass was empty. You trailed off, rubbing your now itchy eyes and waiting for some reply. Eventually, one did come.
“First off, Y/N, I’m so sorry. I had no idea that made you feel so uncomfortable, and I'm sorry I did anything to make you feel that way. That’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”
A small smile lit it’s way onto your face as you finally returned to your boyfriend’s gaze. “It’s okay, Hobi. I know you didn’t do it on purpose.”
“Secondly,” He grabbed your hands in his, his so large and warm, cradling yours in his palms. “I’m sorry you felt like you couldn’t tell me about it. I want us to be honest with each other, about everything, even if it’s awkward. If there’s anything I ever do to make you feel weird, or uncomfortable, or anything like that Jagi, please tell me, so I can never do it again.”
His eyes were locked on yours. He always had such beautiful eyes, normal sparkling with joy and life, but momentarily they were stilled with seriousness and sincerity.
“And lastly,” he said, bringing your two hands again to his mouth, softly kissing the tops of your thumbs, “I will try and limit myself and the gifts I give you in the future.”
“Hobi—“
“Now, I can’t say I’ll never get you a present again,” He stopped you, his smile returning to his face, so warm and comforting. “Because I do love giving my girl gifts and buying things that I know she will look very sexy in.”
He paused for a chuckle that he absolutely pulled from you. Ever the fucking charmer, Hoseok was.
“But I will try and keep it to holidays and anniversaries, and not anything too expensive, okay? Would that make you feel better, Jagiya?”
You let out a sigh as you nodded. How you could have ever been so afraid to talk to him about this, you didn’t know. He was always so easy to talk to about anything, and this topic turned out to be no different.
“Thank you, baby.” You said, leaning in to plant a kiss onto his lips. “That does make me feel better. I’m sorry if I scared you or anything. I promise I’ll talk about anything that bothers me before I become a snotty mess like that again.” You punctuated the point by running your sleeve under your nose.
“Yaa, that’s nothing,” Hoseok said, kissing your cheek. “I happen to think you look absolutely stunning, even when you’re dribbling and snotty”
You chuckled as he went in for the other cheek, and you playfully pushed him away, “God, Hobi, you’re nasty!”
This elicited an inquisitive noise from your boyfriend, who quirked an eyebrow at you “Oh, you wanna see me nasty?” His hands went to your waist and his lips to your neck, “If you’re looking for a nasty man, I might be able to find one for you.”
He gently pushed you down onto the couch, his hands teasing the bottom of your shirt while you laughed under him. “I promise, I’m not looking for anything…” You teased.
He turned and looked down at you, his almond eyes now heavy with intent. But before he could summon another saucy comment, a thought passed over his face. “Wait!” He said, jumping off the couch, returning to your little dining room area.
You humphed, disappointed as you raised yourself up on your elbows to look over the couch back. He was looking down at the gift box.
“So,” He said, closing the satin box with a soft chunk. “Would you like if I returned this?” He looked at you, simply asking the question. No judgement as to either way you answered. He just wanted to know what would make you feel comfortable.
You hesitated. “How much was it?”
Hoseok was silent for a moment, his lips pursed. You wouldn’t like the answer. He knew you wouldn’t like the answer.
“Yeah,” he said, breaking the silence after a minute, “I’m just gonna return it.”
You laughed, resting your head and arms on the couch back and gazing at your boyfriend. Your lovely, understanding boyfriend. “Thank you for being so cool about this, Hobi.”
“Of course!” He said. He had opened the gift box again and was running his fingers over the gold chains. He paused, and then said, without looking up “Can you please do me a favor, Jagiya?”
“Sure, what is it?”
Hoseok looked up at you, “Would you, please, at least try them on first?”
“Hobi…”
“I just wanna see how they look on you! And then I promise I’ll return them tomorrow.”
You dramatically slid back down behind the couch, falling limp across the cushions “Hoseok….”
His head popped up above you, “Please, Jagi? Just try them on, I’ll see how beautiful my amazing and gorgeous girlfriend looks, and then we can put them away and forget about them completely, okay?”
The two of you stared at each other for a moment, a test of wills. But then Hoseok pulled out the big guns: he pouted. Like a little puppy dog, he poked out his lip and he batted his eyelashes at you.
And how could you say no to that.
“Okay, Hoseok, I’ll try it on just once, okay?”
The man’s expression flipped completely, his face lighting up like a Christmas tree. He made what could only be described as a “happy noise” before semi-launching himself over the couch back and kissing you messily on the mouth. “And please don’t forget to wear the matching earrings too, okay?”
“Wait, there were earrings too?!”
After a couple more kisses and many laughs, you were able to pull yourself out from under your boyfriend to comply with his wishes. You told him that, since this was the only time you’d see him in these jewels, you’d put on a whole outfit for him. You rummaged through your closet until you found the exact piece you had in mind.
It was a red dress, one of the first gifts Hoseok had gotten you when you started dating. It hugged your curves so perfectly, the neckline was a daring-deep v, and the knee-length skirt had a flirty slit running up the side. He couldn’t keep his hands off of you the first night you wore it for him, and you’d just barely made it into the door before he had started taking it off. You smiled to yourself as you slid the slinky number off its hanger, feeling almost mischievous at your selection.
After you had donned the dress, some heels, put your hair up into some presentable fashion, and carefully adorned yourself in Hoseok’s diamonds, you stepped out into the hall and then into the living room.
Hoseok had been sat in the arm chair, and his mouth dropped when he saw you. His eyes raked up and down your figure as you made a show of yourself, sauntering sexily toward him like you were approaching from across a smoky bar rather than your modest apartment. He always made you feel so sexy, so desirable. No matter how little you felt like you were trying to be “hot”, he wanted you.
You stopped just in front of him, and his hands immediately found your hips. He looked up at you, eyes wide, “Shibal, Jagiya. You look amazing.”
You smiled down at him. “Thank you, Hobi. Was it just like you thought?”
“No,” he said, rising from his seat. His hand brushed a strand of hair back behind your ear, and then trailed down the gold strands of diamonds on the matching earrings you had originally overlooked in the box. “Even better.”
He kissed you softly and slowly, pulling back to look at you again. His eyes followed the trail of the necklace, past your collarbones to the valley between your breasts. “I thought these diamonds looked like stars. And I knew they would look stunning adorning the heavens.” His gaze returned to yours “That’s you, Y/N, you’re my heaven.”
You giggled, feeling the blush rise to your cheeks. Gosh, he was so fucking cheesy and sweet sometimes. All of the time, really. You kissed his lips, breathing in his warm, soft scent. His hand traced up your side, coming to rest on your neck just under your jaw. He kissed you more forcefully, and you let yourself relax into his hand. His other hand snuck around and lightly grabbed at your ass. You gasped into the kiss, and you could feel Hoseok’s smile.
“God, you’re so pretty Jagiya.” He whispered into your mouth, before starting a line of kissed up your jaw and down your neck. “All the time. You could wear a fucking paper bag and you’d still be the sexiest thing on earth.”
“Hobi…” You breathed out his name as he found your sweet spot, just at the junction of your neck and collarbone, and began to suck and nibble it. You felt your body melt, your knees loosing stability as you tangled your fingers into his unbelievably soft hair. “God, Hobi…”
The hand that was massaging your ass traveled back around to your front, greedily grabbing your breast. Your tits always seemed to fit his big hands so perfectly, like your bodies were made to pleasure each other. He kneaded it a couple times before finding your nipple through the fabric and pinching it gently. You gasped at the sensation and Hoseok moaned before popping his lips off of your neck, a mark already beginning to form there. “Bedroom, baby,” He said, voice low and gruff with lust, “Before I fuck you on the living room floor, yeah?”
You felt your stomach flip at his explicit words, and you almost tripped as you practically ran to the bedroom while also kicking off your heels.
Hoseok was right behind you, helping you unzip your dress once you were in the bedroom and shimmy it off your body. When your hands went to undo the clasp of the necklace and return it to the satin box on your bedside table, however, Hoseok’s hand grabbed your wrist, stilling it.
“Can you,” He paused, a pinch of uncertainty in his voice. “keep them on?”
You turned to face him, lips parted in surprise. He wanted it, you could hear the desire in his voice, but his eyes told you he wanted you comfortable and happy first. There was no judgement in his asking. He wanted what you wanted.
After a second, you nodded. “Yeah, Hobi. Sure.”
He smiled and kissed you again, guiding you to lay on the bed. His hands snaked around your back, unfastening your bra and taking it off you. As he did so, the necklace danced across your chest, a shimmering puddle of diamonds across your skin. Both of you watched the chains ripple, refracting the light like a mirror ball. Hoseok turned to look in your eyes “Perfect.” He said. And you knew he meant you.
He dipped his head to your chest, taking a nipple into his mouth. You sighed, your fingers tangling into his dark hair. Hoseok opened your legs, his hand running up and down your soft inner thigh, coaxing you open like a flower blooming in the sun. He knelt on the bed between your legs, removing his face from your chest as he traveled southward down your body. He planted kisses on your belly, “…mm, skin’s so soft…” he mumbled, “My gorgeous girl… What’d I do to deserve you, huh?”
You felt yourself blush, his compliments more embarrassing to you than the heavy fucking you were no doubt about to experience. “Hobi…” you said through a shy smile, that was quickly abandoned when you felt him rub the crotch of your damp underwear, slowly and deliberately.
His face rose to meet yours, his dark eyes simmering with desire—but something else as well. He drank in your face and its features as you lay there, so needy, a light sheen of sweat on your skin, so open and vulnerable, so naked in every way someone could be. You were a goddess, a star fallen to earth, and he was so lucky, so fucking lucky, to hold you, to make love to you.
With his eyes locked on yours, you felt him pull aside your underwear, stroking your soaked pussy lips. You let out little gasps, feeling his rough fingers tease your entrance.
Your fingers danced through his hair as his finger entered you, his face intent on watching your reaction as he penetrated you. He slid into you with ease, working another finger in you soon after. His hands were so long, so slender, and his fingers worked absolute magic inside you.
His love was on fire, and he grabbed your chin gently yet with purpose as he kissed you. His tongue danced with yours as you let him take you, let him send you over the edge into your bliss. He continued to hit your g-spot and his thumb rubbed your clit as you came on his fingers. You moaned into his mouth, head falling back as you lost yourself in the pleasure, but Hoseok continued to kiss you, sloppy and hungry for you, the noises you made, and all your pleasure.
The movement of his hand slowed as your orgasm calmed. He removed his fingers from your pussy, leaving you feeling empty yet satisfied. As you lay dazed, you could hear him kicking off his pants and underwear, almost in a fervor as he wanted so badly to be sunk completely inside you. He sidled up to your entrance, teasing your hole with the head of his swollen cock. He dipped into you, spreading your juices across his cock to ready himself. You sighed, his name dancing on your breath as he slowly began to enter you. His chest came down to yours as he pressed himself in, little noises tumbling from his mouth with his hitched breaths. When he bottomed out, he stayed for a second, allowing yourself to feel him, fully sheathed inside you. He planted a soft, sweet kiss to the corner of your mouth. “Baby…” he said, absently, before he started to pump himself in and out of you.
You gasped as he alternatively filled you and left you empty. He fit inside you so perfectly, and the way your velvet walls held him was enough to drive Hoseok mad. He nestled his head into the crook of your neck, his chest touching yours. As he thrust into you, the diamonds on your chest danced and jingled, pressing into both of your bodies. You both moaned and grunted, an animalistic duet accompanying your percussive love-making. As Hoseok felt himself get closer, he began to suck on your neck, tonguing a spot of skin before letting it go with a pop. Your hands ran across his strong back, his engaged shoulders, up to tangle in his dark locks as he kissed constellations onto your skin.
“You’re so fucking amazing.” He grunted as his thrusts began to sputter and lose rhythm, his precision failing as his orgasm approached. His lips traced up your neck, until his words came out hot into your ear. “Fucking gorgeous, amazing girl. Wanna dress you up, show everyone how fucking beautiful you are…. I want you in fucking diamonds and pearls, baby… Fuck—“
You came moaning his name, hands desperately clutching at his hair, his muscled back, holding onto him as he made you crash down into your climax. He cursed as he felt you pulse around him, driving himself into you to help you ride out the high. He kissed the side of your face as you crested and began to slide down, down the peak of your orgasm. Hoseok pulled himself out of you suddenly, having tried to stay inside of your warmth as long as he could. He rose, cock in hand, as he pumped himself to his own completion. And you watched, lying there, as this gorgeous man came, one hand running through his hair, eye lids half-closed and brow knitted, moaning as he came onto you, your stomach and chest. Half-aware, you watched the extravagant gift you had earlier decline was covered in Hoseok’s cum, your chest shining with both diamonds and his liquid affection.
Hoseok sat over you, catching his breath and gazing at you, all of you. The amount of warmth in his dark eyes, it was enough to make you feel shy even if you had just cum on his cock.
“Wow.” Were the first words he said, and you didn’t know wether he was referring to the sex or, perhaps, to you.
“Hoseok,” You said directly, snapping him out of the apparent trance you had put him in. “You actually came all over the freaking necklace!”
Hoseok registered what you said, then registered the sight before him, eyes wide and brows comically raised “Oh shit,” he said, picking the necklace off your chest and seeing how bad his aim had been.
“Well then,” He said, getting off of you and flopping down onto the bed beside you. He immediately snuggled in, wrapping his long arms around your torso like an octopus. “I guess I can’t return it after all. No way Cartier will accept something covered in jizz.”
You wrinkled your nose at him in disgust (but still, you chuckled at the crass comment, despite yourself) “Hobi! I swear, if you plan on making me keep things by cumming on them…”
Hoseok cackled, burying his face into your shoulder, chest shaking with laughter. As it quieted, he tutted “Jagiya… I’ll be sure to listen if you ever think anything is too much. Besides, I don’t care about you wearing fancy clothes or jewelry anyway.”
“Really?” You said, a bit incredulous. “You don’t.”
“Mm-mm.” He nodded, his voice barely audible as his face was smooshed into your body, his words spoken directly into you “Cause you’re the jewel, Jagi, everything else is just the setting.”
#hoseok smut#hoseok x y/n#hoseok x reader#hoseok fanfic#bts fanfic#bts smut#hoseok fluff#jhope smut#jhope fanfic#jhope x y/n#jhope x reader
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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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How pissed is Greg that Anthony got a Spider-Man kiss before him?!?
Oh Furious!
Furious!
"What the fuck is this?!"
Gregory tossed his phone to his brother across the changing room, ignoring the shouts of Little Bridgerton!
Anthony barely looked up as he caught it, his eyes stuck on Kate across the room, talking to Pep about something, her hands moving wildly as she spoke.
Anthony looked down at it briefly, a smirk quirking his lips upwards as he tossed it back. "Well Gregory, when a Mummy and a Dadd love one another sometimes they press their lips together and sometimes other parts of themse-"
Gregory cringed back, "Yep! Thanks, you covered that a couple of years ago." His cheeks were burning.
"Well, then do you not recognise my future wife?" Anthony smirked enjoying this far too much as he called out, "Kate! Greg's forgotten he's met you!"
"Hey Greggy." Kate's lips were on his cheek as she stepped around him, settling herself on Anthony's lap.
"Hey, Kate." Gregory sighed, his cheeks still burning when another arm slipped around his waist, another pair of lips on his cheek.
"Hey baby, I didn't know you were over here today."
Gregory's heart leapt, spinning wildly towards her, a slow smile cracking over his face as their eyes met. She'd stolen the red and blue cap she was wearing backwards from his bedside table this morning, her silky black hair swept back, her dark eyes wide as she raised her eyebrows, waiting for a response.
The very first time he'd seen her, perched on the edge of her desk when he'd shuffled in ready for his first assessment with the new doctor, he'd been struck a little dumb. stood there, standing in the middle of the room.
"Gregory?" A woman's voice had cut through his reverie, but not the woman on the edge of the desk. He'd spun around, a striking woman with a stethoscope around her neck smiling gently at him, "Everything okay?"
His cheeks had been burning, "Yeah! Yep! Sorry doc!" and he'd tried to keep his eyes off the woman for the rest of his physical.
Sophie had followed him out, claiming they all needed coffee, her lips moving quickly before he could even ask what he wanted. "Her name's Lucy Abernathy, she's studying physiotherapy at Manchester Metropolitan and she works as Kate's assistant part time. She's turning twenty in three weeks and no she isn't seeing anyone."
And he hadn't been able to stop himself from hugging her tightly. Of course, until four months ago when Lucy had said
"I really like your Star Wars Tattoo." He hadn't been able to bring himself to do anything about it either.
And then he'd sprinted into the carpark, the words tumbling over themselves to get out Lucy- I- wondered-if-you'd-like-to-go-out-with-me-sometime-because-i-think-you're-really-pretty-and-smart-and-I want-to-get-to-know-you!
A shy smile on her face when she said "Yeah, I'd really like that Greg. Can I-1?"
Her phone number written on his hand, and every day since then he'd loved her more and more.
"La la la Lucy!" He grinned down at her now, brushing their lips together softly, feeling her sigh against him.
"Oh look! He does know what a kiss is!" Anthony chortled behind him ignoring his fiancée's stop it they're sweet.
Gregory's cheeks burned, "Just-stop ruining spider-man for me!" And with that he marched from the changing room, trying to maintain whatever shred of dignity he had left.
"Do we need to talk about what happened in the changing room today?"
Lucy's voice was soft, her head in his lap his cap still on her head, keeping her hair out of her eyes as she read some sports journal or another.
Gregory's cheeks burned, "I just- I really like Spider-man." He tapped the logo on the cap she was wearing. "And Horn dog Anthony is ruining it."
Lucy hummed, reaching back, running her hands through his hair, his heart hammering in his chest. "Is that all?"
It was ridiculous, he knew it was, the stupid feeling that had bubbled in his chest. Embarrassed to say it now, but he couldn't help himself.
"Maybe that was like... the first kiss I ever saw in a movie and-"
"You had a crush on Kirsten Dunst didn't you?"
Gregory blinked dryly, Lucy's head tipped back to look him in the eyes. "I have never hid that. Emma Stone and Zendaya too."
Lucy's smile was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen when she slid from his lap, walking round to sit on the floor, facing the arm of the chair, an eyebrow raised, "Come on then Greggy, Spider-man kiss time."
He stared stupidly back at her, a smirk on her lips as she tugged against his shoulders until he was dangling over the edge, her eyes shining at him, leaning close, her perfume engulfing him, and then her lips were on his, soft and gentle, her tongue moving gently against his, lazy and perfect as a flash of light filled the room.
Lucy pulled back after a long moment, her eyes still shining down at him as she left a kiss on the tip of his nose before she looked down at his phone in her hand, tapping away before she left it lightly on his chest.
"You're my dream girl." He couldn't stop smiling as she kissed his chin.
"You're really cute."
And when he looked down at his phone seconds later, and saw his new screensaver, he didn't give a flying fuck about Anthony's billboard.
"I love you."
Her smile was bright when she settled back on his lap. "Yeah I love you too."
#Lucy is of korean descent thanks for coming to my TED Talk#offside au#grucy#lucy x gregory#gregory bridgerton#lucy abernathy#molly's asks and answers
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18
⋇✦ Pairing: Shikamaru x Reader
⋇✦ Genre: smut; NSFW; oneshot
⋇✦ Synopsis: You just turned eighteen and are rebelling against your dad and his new wife. Good thing Shikamaru finds you before some douche can take advantage of you
⋇✦ CW: DARK CONTENT!! NSFW; statutory mention; mean shikamaru; dirty talk; anal mention; slight dacryphilia; cheating mention; anal mentions drugs?
⋇✦ Length: 2.3k+
⋇✦ Inspiration: 18 by Anarbor
“That’s it, baby. Just like that,” Shikamaru praised as he shoved your head further down on his length, hissing in pleasure as you gagged around him. He had your hair bunched up in a makeshift ponytail in one of his hands, using it to work you back and forth on his cock. In his other hand, he held a cigarette between his fingers. Holding you down, your nose nuzzled in the trimmed pubes at his base, Shikamaru took a long drag. He yanked you off of him, causing you to cough and splutter as your lungs sucked in greedy gulps of air.
It didn’t last long before Shikamaru was bending over, blowing his smoke into your face. You inhaled in straight, coughing as it burned your throat.
Shikamaru only snickered as you blinked up at him through bleary eyes. “Don’t cry, baby. I help you out, you help me out, remember?”
You did remember. Part of you was starting to wonder if it was all worth it, but you shook the thought away as you licked at the head of his shaft again. A sharp tug of your hair made you yelp. “What are you, a kitten?” Shikamaru jeered. “Put it back in your mouth.”
How had you gotten here? Well, alcohol had been involved, of course.
“Wanna know a secret?” You giggled from behind your glass as you swirled your finger in your drink. It was only your second one, but it was already going straight to your head, making the room spin. You weren’t much of a drinker, afterall. It wasn’t like you could hang with the big boys, though you were doing your best to.
Shikamaru rolled his eyes as he lifted his own glass to his lips, knocking it back and wiping at his mouth with his sleeve. “Sure,” he agreed, deciding to play along.
The two of you had met at this same bar a week prior and ended the night with a drunken quicky in the bathroom before closing.
If he was being honest, Shikamaru didn’t even remember your name. He hadn’t expected--or cared, really--to see you again, but when he walked in that night, there you were, already drunk. So if he had to put up with your blabbering for an hour or so before he could bury himself in your cunt again, well, that was a price he was willing to pay.
Placing down your drink, you leaned over to Shikamaru unsteadily, placing your hand on his thigh for balance as you grinned stupidly up at him. “Okay, but you can’t tell anyone.” You slurred.
“That’s what makes it a secret, isn’t it?” Shikamaru couldn’t help but roll his eyes; god you were dumb. If he hadn’t already seen how pretty your pussy was, he wouldn’t even bother talking to you right now.
You nodded, gripping his leg. “Okay… My secret is that I’m not even supposed to be in this bar!” You began to laugh like it was the funniest thing in the world, but Shikamaru stared at you a bit dumbfounded as he felt a sense of nausea turning in his stomach.
“I hope you don’t mean what I think you mean…” He muttered, straightening in his seat. In your drunked state, you were oblivious to his clear disdain.
So you just pushed yourself up, bringing your drink to your lips and taking a sip. “I’m only seventeen… I borrowed my friend’s ID to get in here.
And that was what Shikamaru had been hoping you weren’t going to say. You were a minor. At seventeen, that put Shikamaru seven years older than you. You were still in high school; meanwhile, he’d graduated from college three years ago already. All of this to say that your inebriated hookup in the bathroom was statutory.
Shikamaru felt sick with anxiety wondering who you told, if anyone. Would he get caught? Did it matter than he didn’t know you were a minor when he'd fucked you?
And yet, even in the midst of his worry, the words went straight to his cock. You were clearly in some kind of rebellion, probably a daddy’s girl who was trying to revolt against the good girl image you’d grown up with.
Shikamaru wanted to help with that; he would absolutely ruin you given the chance. Take this good girl and turn you into his little toy.
But Shikamaru wasn’t an idiot; he wasn’t going to risk jail time or the words “sex offender” on his record just for an easy, gullible lay.
So he brushed your hand off of him, pushing himself to his feet. Pulling out his phone, he called you an uber. Shikamaru wouldn’t call himself a good guy, couldn’t care less what you did on your own time, but he figured that maybe if he got you home safe, you wouldn’t retaliate against his rejection and turn him in.
“Come find me when you’re eighteen,” he muttered before shutting the car door behind you.
Lucky for him, that was only a week later.
You’d walked right into that bar clad in little red heels and a tight black dress that had him drooling. All eyes were on you, but yours were only on Shikamaru as you sauntered up to him and his friends.
He was leaning back in the booth, eyeing you expectantly as his friends drooled by his side. You reached into your purse, pulling out your ID and tossing it to him. It slid across the table in front of you, and he picked it up, eyeing it curiously before a smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.
“Well, well, well. Look who’s eighteen.”
You dangled your keys in front of him, the BMW logo on the remote visible to the whole ground. “My place or yours?”
That was how you ended up in Shikamaru’s bed, face down and ass up as he pounded into you from behind. He pushed your head into the mattress as he battered your cunt with his large cock. He hadn’t even taken time to prepare you, not that it mattered much. As soon as he rubbed his tip against your pussy lips, you were practically dripping.
“Couldn’t even wait for this cock, could you?” He taunted as he placed a hard smack on your ass before rubbing his hand over it delicately. “What is it, baby? Those high school boys weren’t satisfying you? You needed a real man?” As if to punctuate his point, Shikamaru pressed his thumb against your tight, unused hole, making you squeal as he pushed it inside. Yeah, he’d definitely be using this hole at some point, too.
You were blabbering incoherently, the noises muffled into the bed as his cock dragged deliciously against your walls. You’d never been fucked like this before.
Shikamaru was rutting into you without rhyme or rhythm, chasing his own high, but you were already coming around him, making him laugh. “And I wasn’t even trying to get you off,” he ridiculed. “You’re just that desperate for me, huh?”
After hammering into you for god knows how long, he pulled you back up, using your hair as leverage to ride you even harder. “Shikamaru!” You cried out, clenching around him again. You’d lost count how many times you’d come.
“That’s it, baby… Say my name…” he grunted, smacking your ass again. “Fuck, I’m gonna fill you up. You want that, baby? Want me to come in this stupid little cunt?”
You really were stupid because you were nodding, squeezing around him harder, practically begging for his load. You hadn’t been sexually active long enough to realize you should be on birth control, hadn't even bothered to make sure he was wearing a condom.
A string of curses fell from Shikamaru’s mouth as his grip on your hair tightened, and his hips began to stutter into yours, and then he was cumming, shooting his load deep into you as he bottomed out. His fingers went to your hips, gripping so hard you were sure they’d bruise. He held your hips tightly to his as he rolled back into you, pushing his cum deeper inside.
“Fuck,” he breathed before pulling out, collapsing down onto the bed. With shaky legs, you flipped yourself over to lay next to him, trying to cuddle into his side, but Shikamaru just shrugged you off.
“So, tell me…” He cocked an eyebrow as he looked over your naked form. You tried to pull the blanket up over yourself, feeling suddenly vulnerable under his gaze, but he yanked it off. “Don’t. I want to see you.”
Reaching into his night stand, he pulled out a blunt and his lighter. Placing the smoke between his lips, he lit it and took a deep drag. “I know that’s not your car you pulled up in. Who’s is it?”
He blew out the smoke, and you wrinkled your nose at the smell. He smirked. “Never smoked before?” You shook your head and then wished you hadn’t as he shoved the blunt between your own lips. “Suck,” he commanded.
You did as you were told, your eyes watering as you held the smoke in your mouth before releasing it, making Shikamaru laugh at your patheticness. “No. Again. All the way into your lungs.”
Again, you did what he said. Your lungs immediately began to burn as you inhaled the smoke, making you cough and hack violently. It seemed like every time you did, it only made you have to cough more.
You were light headed as you watched Shikamaru shake his head as he took another hit. “I asked you a question.”
“It’s my dad’s,” you managed between coughs.
He’d figured as much. You looked like you came from daddy’s money.
Shikamaru was able to coax your situation from you with fake niceties, how your parents had divorced because of your dad’s affair. He’d married the lady not a month after the divorce was finalized. She wasn’t even thirty yet.
So that was where your rebellion had come from. Probably the first hard thing you’d ever experienced in your life, and you couldn’t handle it. You were so pitiful, so clearly lost.
Well, lucky for you a guy like Shikamaru found you. Who knows what kind of creeps were out there just waiting to take advantage of a sweet, vulnerable girl like you?
Shikamaru was your boyfriend now. You couldn’t have been more thrilled. With his smoking, his long hair, his tattoos, he was your father’s worst nightmare. And there was nothing your dad could do to stop you. He’d already hurt you so much, broken all your trust. He was desperate to get back on your goodside.
So when you showed up to dinner one night with Shikamaru in tow, cigarette still tucked between his teeth, your dad nearly had a fit. It was clear by the look on his face; you’d never been so delighted before. But he sucked up it, sticking out a hand for Shikamaru to shake.
Your boyfriend only stared at it.
“I’d appreciate it if you didn’t smoke in my house.” Your father said.
“Sure, no prob.” Shikamaru dropped the cigarette on your front porch, crushing it under his heel before pushing past your dad into the home. You just smiled up at him sweetly before following behind.
“Nice place you got here,” Shikamaru said, cocking an eyebrow.
Dinner was awkward at best and everything you’d wanted. Shikamaru didn’t mind either. He was more than happy to play along with your antics for a fancy meal. You were so focused on how uncomfortable your dad was with every question Shikamaru answered that you didn’t notice the way your boyfriend was eyeing your new stepmom.
Later, when he had you on your knees in the bathroom as you father and his wife sat in the living room, it was her he was thinking of as he shoved his cock down your throat over and over again.
“Cmon, take it baby. You know you want it,” Shikamaru moaned, head thrown back in pleasure. “You owe me, don’t you? Using me to make your daddy mad. Such a bad girl, huh? Well, I held up my end of the bargain, sweetheart. Now you’re gonna hold up yours. Gonna let me use you to dump my cum in whenever I want, aren’t you?
He took the gurgled moan against his cock as confirmation.
It was a few more minutes of using your mouth before he was cumming long and hard to the thought of bending your stepmom over the bathroom counter. His load spilt down your throat before he pulled out slowly, making sure to fill your mouth before pulling you off him completely and finishing over your face.
He groaned at the sight of your tears mixed with his cum, making your makeup run and smear. The sight was almost enough to get him hard again.
“Better clean up, darling.” He jeered as he rubbed his cock over your messy face. For good measure, he smacked it against your cheeks a couple times.
Nodding and sniffling, you took him in your mouth again, cleaning the cum off of him so he could tuck himself away. “Don’t be too long,” he told you as he left you alone in the bathroom, a mess and covered in his cum.
He wasn’t too worried. He knew that you wouldn’t be dumping him any time soon. Then you would have to go running back to daddy, and he knew you didn’t want that. So you’d put up with just about anything he did.
Including when, a week later, you would walk in on him in his apartment, balls deep in your stepmom’s ass.
Through tears, you would just nod in agreement as he insisted it wasn’t cheating if it was in the ass.
He was nice. He even let his friends fuck you in the ass whenever they wanted, and he didn't get mad at it, so how could you?
Shikamaru loved eighteen year olds. They had so much to learn.
And he was willing to teach.
#god i can't believe i wrote this#i feel like a degenerate#naruto#naruto x reader#naruto x oc#naruto drabble#naruto drabbles#naruto headcanon#naruto headcanons#naruto hc#naruto imagine#naruto imagines#naruto ff#naruto fanfiction#naruto oneshot#naruto one shot#shikamaru#shikamaru x oc#shikamaru x reader#shikamaru headcanon#shikamaru headcanons#shikamaru hc#shikamaru drabble#shikamaru drabbles#shikamaru imagine#shikmaru imagines#shikamaru oneshot#shikamaru one shot#shikamaru ff#shikamaru fanfiction
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