#why is my favorite part of this drawing the fucking tiger
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lucas sinclair, sunshine incarnate, and two of the biggest assholes you've ever met in your life
#i love all of them sm#why is my favorite part of this drawing the fucking tiger#stranger things#stranger things fanart#my art#mine#lucas sinclair#max mayfield#mike wheeler#lumax#lumax fanart#wheelclair#wheelclair fanart
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Slashers reactions to their s/o having stretch marks (Part 1)
Lmao this totally isn’t me self insterting because I’m insecure of the stretch marks on my thighs eyyyy
WARNINGS: some language is used (aHEM BO), being insecure about stretch marks, this is sweet fluffy stuff! There are some nicknames used but not in regards to gender
Gender neutral reader: they/them and you is used
Thomas Hewitt
.Oh this sweet boy does not care that you have stretch marks what so ever.
.In fact he has them too! He has them near his stomach and on his thighs.
.He 100% would trace them when you guys are snuggled up on the couch together, or huddled on the porch.
.He never really talks about them, but he’s always touching them.
.however if you ever say anything negative about you stretch marks then oh boy you better be prepared for an hour long Ted talk on how wrong you are and how beautiful they are!
.when you wear things like shorts, skirts, etc, because let’s face it Texas can be hot as FUCK- he just can’t help from staring.
.‘Look at them. They’re so pretty/handsome🥺’ he would think to himself all the time
Stu Macher
.Unlike Thomas who is not very vocal about stretch marks, this boy is.
.”Babyyyyy your so cuteeee!” “They make you look like a sexy tiger!”
.He isn’t afraid to trace them in public.
.Your at a party? His hand is on your hip, tracing small circles around them
.but When you are in private? Oh boy… get ready for so many kisses.
.I strongly believe Stu is a thigh guy, and if you have stretch marks on your thighs he just loves them even more. They add character!
.Mans is not afraid to fight anyone who says anything negative about you or your stretch marks.
Billy Loomis
.Billy doesn’t care if you have them or not
.like he just doesn’t mention them. But he isn’t trying to be mean! He just doesn’t think it’s a big deal!
.who cares if you have stretch marks? You’re still as gorgeous as ever.
.but if you say something negative about them then… Well…
.”I hate my stretch marks…”
“What? Why?”
“Because! They’re so ugly looking! I just wish I could rip them off!- I-!”
“Stop stop stop. Don’t say that. Ever.”
“You know it’s true… Don’t even try and tell me you like them…”
“But I don’t dislike them either. They are a part of you, and I love you therefore I love them.”
.oh and if anyone says anything about them then it looks like GhostFace will have some fun.
Vincent Sinclair
.You have stretch marks? Please let him draw you, little details such as freckles, stretch marks, birthmarks, etc etc, are his favorite things to add to his art.
.If you are insecure about your stretch marks he would be sad but would understand.
.You two would help each other with your insecurities! Slowly you would assure him that you will still love him even without his mask, and he assures you that your marks are beautiful.
.but, we all know everyday isn’t going to be perfect sunshine and rainbows. So when you do have a bad day he does the one thing he knows for sure will show his love. Make art for you!
.Its everything from little wax figures of you, drawings, paintings, he even draws things on little sticky notes and sticks them around where he knows you’d find them.
.But is art isn’t enough then he will most definitely cuddle you and provide as much comfort as he physically can
Bo Sinclair
.Now we all know Bo can be an asshole, even if he doesn’t mean it.
.Bo probably won’t catch onto you having a bad day or being insecure for a while.
So he’d need one of his brothers to point it out.
.”What do you mean they’re upset? About their stretch marks? Why the fuck would that be upsetting?”
.He doesn’t mean it in a harsh or mean way. He means it in a ‘why would they be so upset about something so beautiful’. He just doesn’t know how to say it like that.
.So of course once he finds this out he is going to sit you down on his lap as he traces your marks and mumbles how you are the prettiest/handsomest person he has ever laid eyes on.
. “I mean if you wanna feel better just take a look at Vincent!”
“BEAUREGARD SINCLAIR!”
“Sorry darlin I was just jokin-“
.He’s not the best at comfort with words but he tries his best.
Ever since he found out you were insecure he holds you a little bit tighter at night.
.Overall stretch marks don’t bother Bo. He loves you no matter what.
Lester Sinclair
.You got stretch marks? Cool! He’s got lots of scars on his arms and hands from doing stuff with his knives!
.He just sees your marks as something that makes you, you.
.Would also 100% call them tiger stripes
.Any visitor/victim makes a remark on them? Fuck them they can walk to Bo’a garage. He’s gonna take you home and show you some lovin!
.Said visitors would also get a message from Bo to make ‘em really suffer, tee hee
#slasher x reader#house of wax x reader#bo sinclair x reader#vincent sinclair x reader#lester sinclair x reader#thomas hewitt x reader#stu macher x reader#billy loomis x reader#scream x reader#texaschainsawxreader#horrormovies#horrormovie#slashers
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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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Restless Rewatch: The Untamed Episode 21, second part
(Masterpost) (Other Canary Stuff) (Previous Post)
Warning: Spoilers for All 50 Episodes!
Flute Solo
For some reason Wei Wuxian has decided to take a walk outside of the fortress, or behind the fortress, or something? Can people just take a stroll outside during wartime? Seems unwise.
There are guards and these extra-bossy crows herding some Wen prisoners along, and Wei Wuxian stands up above and gets totally overwhelmed by resentful energy.
He falls to one knee while clutching his chest, in the spot where all cultivators seem to stow a bag of holding. I guess this is the Xuanwu sword? Or maybe it's his surgical incision; those things can take a while to finish healing. I think the golden core is further down in the abdomen, though; this is right over his heart.
Wen Qing, Granny, and Fourth Uncle are in the group, but Wen Qing has her hood up so Wei Wuxian can't see her, and he's unlikely to remember the other two, since he only saw them that one time at the shrine, and he doesn't remember people he's literally had dinner with.
The guards decide to be assholes and beat the shit out of a prisoner because he fell down, which inspires some extra aggressive crows to swoop in and attack the not-dead guy on the ground. That is...not how carrion-eaters behave, generally. They're pretty good about waiting for you to stop moving.
Wei Wuxian continues to struggle, obviously having an orgasm in a lot of pain, and starting to leak resentful energy.
(more after the cut)
He brings his flute up and starts playing it, which causes the wind to rise, rocks to fall from a nearby cliff, and the whole group of people on the ground under him to start having Yin Iron lines crawling up their faces.
Would Wen Qing be a beautiful fierce corpse? She would.
Eventually Wei Wuxian stops torturing everybody, having gotten it out of his system for a bit, and stands up. The group gets up, skin clearing up, and starts moving along again, a little shook. Wen Qing looks up and sees Wei Wuxian and hides her face in anguish.
She was there in the dungeon, listening to the same flute music, when he was resentfully slaughtering everyone around her in Yiling. Does she understand what she’s seeing, what he’s become?
Her hood is off and it seems that he sees her, or at least that he is trying to figure out what he's seeing. But Jiang Yanli arrives before he can do more than look puzzled and cast his eyes around.
Jiang Yanli asks him what just happened and he laughs and says it was the strong wind, in an extremely transparent lie that Yanli nearly chokes trying to swallow. She drags him back to the meeting while he continues to look troubled.
War Council
Meanwhile, the war council is meeting. This is mostly a boring rehash of stuff we already know, but someone has drawn a nice big map that's been installed in a custom frame. Because apparently the table with the mountains on it is not a good enough representation of "and then we will walk from our house to Wen Ruohan's house," which is basically their plan. The gist of this scene is that Wen Ruohan having the Yin Iron gives him an advantage, in case we needed to be reminded of that.
The doors fly open and Wei Wuxian and his fabulous ass literally blow into the room.
Everyone reacts in a comically extreme way.
He casts his eyes malevolently and/or sexily over to Lan Wangji, who is still grumpy with him, while Jiang Cheng comes up and stands almost as close to him as Lan Wangji used to.
He tells everybody that he might have something to counteract the yin iron.
Everybody: Really? Do tell!
Wei Wuxian: Happy to!
Wei Wuxian: *theatrical side-eye at judgy ex boyfriend*
Wei Wuxian: Actually, nope.
He says "we'll see in about a month" while fondling whatever is hidden next to his ribcage.
This behavior, while ridiculous, isn't quite as absurd as it seems from a corporate-meeting standpoint. Part of what cultivators do is invent and refine spiritual tools. So when Wei Wuxian makes this speech, the people in the meeting are going to infer that he is creating a spiritual tool to counter the Yin Iron.
Now it's Lan Xichen's turn to ask everybody’s favorite question. Lan Xichen wasn’t at the party when everyone else asked him, and we're apparently supposed to believe these gossips haven't been talking about the not-sword-carrying 24x7.
Wei Wuxian says he's just not in the mood, and we get to see Lan Xichen's impressive ability to hold his face completely still while he represses his desire to slap someone.
Jin Zixun complains about Wei Wuxian after he leaves, but for once his bitching is on point; he correctly surmises that the counter to yin iron is...yin iron.
Now, to be fair, the yin tiger amulet is different from the yin iron because it exists in the novel Wei Wuxian specially refines it to be more manageable than the sword it started from. And maybe it’s gel coated to be easier on the stomach. But it's basically the same shit.
Lan Xichen and Nie Mingjue exchange intense gazes, just to prove that the young people aren’t the only ones who know how to eye fuck.
Lying Is Forbidden
Lan Xichen talks to Lan Wangji, and we discover that Lan Wangji is perfectly capable of lying. He manages to maintain a reputation for not lying but I think the trick is that he just avoids talking in general, so when, for example, people in later years say "who's your masked boyfriend" he just doesn't answer, which isn't really lying. (How many times did Lan Qiren and Lan Xichen ask “where did you get this kid?” and just not get an answer, I wonder.)
At other times he actually directly lies, as when he claims he is “just passing through” Yiling on a night hunt. The current conversation with Lan Xichen definitely involves actual lying.
Let's play multiple choice answers with the Lan brothers!
Q: Why is WWX so confident we can have Yin Iron against WRH in a month?
a.) Because he's been walking around with that Xuanwu sword for months, and it is obviously made of Yin iron
b.) because he used a fucking ghost flute to flay Wen Chao more or less in front of me, so he is clearly down with some dark magics
c.) I don’t know
Q: Was the death of people in the Yiling supervisory office really related to yin iron?
a.) obviously
b.) maybe he was using some other source of overwhelming necromantic power
c.) no, he’s not like that
Q. When you approached Yiling, was there anything unusual?
a.) yes, the talismans had been altered to draw in evil spirits
b.) yes, everyone except his particular friend Wen Qing had killed themselves in horrifying, outlandish ways
c.) are there rules already set for everything in the world?
Xichen, bless him, actually lets Lan Wangji change the subject like that and answers his question honestly.
Xichen: Actually, rules are pretty much shit
Wangji: fucking hell, you're telling me this NOW? What have I been doing for the past 18 years then?
They both look just ridiculously beautiful in this conversation. Lan Wangji’s affect with his brother is so interesting. He’s trusting, emotionally open, willing to be seen...but only because he knows Lan Xichen won’t push past his barriers, won’t force him to speak the truth of what’s on his mind.
Awkwardness
The Yunmeng bros roll up, and awkwardness ensues.
Wangji is frowning hard. His frowns are of the micro variety just like his smiles, but boy they are consistent and Wei Wuxian and Xichen both know how to read them.
Wei Wuxian gives Lan Xichen a small, sunny smile--it seems genuine, not like the fake ones he's trotting out on demand for his family.
Then he gives Lan Wangji a pointed gaze of yearning and reproachfulness, which Lan Wangji returns, switching from frowning to a softer expression that seems about equal parts hurt, apology, and thirst.
Wei Wuxian reacts to that by bowing again and leaving, with Jiang Cheng quickly following, wondering what the fuck just happened.
Lans Xichen and Wangji pivot gracefully to watch them go, which Lan Wangji should know is not correct post-breakup behavior; you're supposed to act disinterested, my dude.
And then Lan Xichen asks Lan Wangji what the fuck is going on. Lan Wangji gets one more lie in, saying he's not worried about Wei Wuxian, before reapplying his frown and walking away from the conversation.
Macroexpression Brothers
OP was wrong about Wei Wuxian not hugging Jiang Cheng any more--here he is hanging on him just like the old days, and Jiang Cheng is shoving him off, just like the old days. However, it emerges that this is mostly an act that WWX is putting on to seem normal.
Jiang Cheng wants to know what's wrong between him and Lan Wangji, and asks why they broke up. Wei Wuxian points out that Jiang Cheng didn't like him dating Lan Wangji before, so why is he pushing him to get back together with him now, and Jiang Cheng says that now they're allies in a war, so Wei Wuxian needs to do his duty and help keep Lan Wangji in fighting trim, nudge nudge.
Then he starts lecturing Wei Wuxian about sword cultivation and generally good behavior, and Wei Wuxian theatrically nods and give him appraising looks, telling him he really seems like a clan leader now.
Jiang Cheng headshakes this away. Wei Wuxian actually giving Jiang Cheng a sincere compliment here, disguised as teasing, and he's not wrong. Jiang Cheng has matured and is becoming a strong leader. Not strong enough to ignore peer pressure, but that’s true of most clan leaders in this environment. They’re not supposed to ignore peer pressure.
Wei Wuxian is pointing it out for his own reasons - he doesn't want to be having this conversation - but it's nice to see him giving his clan leader his due.
Jiang Cheng walks away as Wei Wuxian smiles after him; as soon as he's out of sight the smile falls off of Wei Wuxian's face as fast as fast as gravity can take it. It's like someone snuffed a candle.
No one bites back as hard
On their anger
None of my pain and woe
Can show through
But my dreams, they aren't as empty
As my conscience seems to be
I have hours, only lonely
My love is vengeance that's never free
More Awkwardness
Lan Wangji and his ambivalence come looking for Wei Wuxian, standing outside his door and raising a hand to knock before changing his mind and fleeing.
Lan Wangji is on the back foot for the first time in his relationship with Wei Wuxian; this boy who pursued and pursued and PURSUED him is now a man who won't speak to him. This boy who hung on every one of his words, and saw through all of his minute facial expressions, has become a man who won't listen to him. Lan Wangji is in the position of pursuer, now, and it's not a role he's well equipped for.
Yanli stops him as he's bailing. He looks so relieved to see her, but he tries to escape immediately after greeting her. She stops him so she can ask what the fuck is going on.
Unfortunately, Wei Wuxian rolls up while Lan Wangji is in the middle of talking to her. He's telling her about the heterodox cultivation, and Wei Wuxian busts him. Wei Wuxian steps up and asks what he was telling her, and Lan Wangji says "Wei Ying," but doesn't get much further than that.
Nunya
Wei Wuxian reminds him that he told him to stay out of Jiang Clan business. Now, here I want to mention that "private" and "not your bidness" are culturally specific concepts. OP, for example, grew up in version of Irish-American culture so secretive that the problems of a person's life and (often) the cause of their death are things only discovered by whoever inherits their papers. [OP inherited 3 generations of letters a few years ago, and HOO BOY]
In the version of Chinese culture which we see in this drama, your choices, thoughts & troubles belong to the family and clan, not just to you. Wei Wuxian, in shutting his elder sister out of his struggles, is not family-ing correctly. Jiang Yanli is right to try to get around that by asking his friend. His friend is also right to give her--in sanitized form--the information she is asking for.
Wei Wuxian has zero trust in Lan Wangji at this point, unfortunately. He doesn’t know that Lan Wangji has been lying to cover for him; he just knows he’s being a grumpy aggressive holy roller. Now, when Lan Wangji has just been given permission to disregard all 3000 rules and look at a person’s heart, that person’s heart has been hardened against him.
Yanli is used to dealing with Wei Wuxian's moods at this point -- after all, a lifetime of Jiang Cheng has got her used to volatile little brothers, and Wei Wuxian is clearly a new, not-improved man since his return.
She tries to get him to chill out while Lan Wangji gives him a death glare -- not a return to the earlier generalized frown, more of a specific "I can't believe how full of shit you are" frown.
Wei Wuxian calls him Lan Er Gongzi, like a dick. Lan Wangji started this but at this point Wei Wuxian is kind of in the lead for who is being The Worst. Lan Wangji executes a beautiful 180 and walks away at top speed.
Wei Wuxian asks Yanli if he talked about Yiling and when she says he didn't, he realizes he fucked up.
He goes running after him and calls him Lan Zhan and says "listen to me" but Lan Wangji is no longer in a listening mood.
Eat A Dick Sword
Lan Wangji is so far in his feelings at this point that he just hauls out his sword and goes after Wei Wuxian, taking complete control of the interaction and forcing Wei Wuxian to concede the fight. Aww, he’s so angry! I love him.
This is a rough moment for Wei Wuxian. He really genuinely can't hold his own against Lan Wangji, unless he's going to directly use necromancy against him the way he does later in their final confrontation.
When they first met he was able to defend himself on the rooftop without drawing his sword, but he's weaker now; Chenqing is an adequate hand weapon against most cultivators and puppets, but it's not a match for Lan Wangji's full attack.
Wei Wuxian is not enjoying this fight, and can’t win in, so he just throws in the towel, exposing his throat and trusting Lan Wangji's control.
On the surface, this fight appears to re-establish their former rapport, but it puts them on such an uneven footing it might actually drive a larger wedge between them. I think that Lan Wangji has made a strategic error in doing this.
Lan Wangji seems to want to prove to Wei Wuxian that his new style of cultivation is inadequate, that he would do better with a sword. Swordplay was the beginning of their relationship; their matched power was the source of their mutual attraction. Lan Wangji can't accept that Wei Wuxian has given it up; he doesn't (yet) respect his agency enough to assume that he has a good reason.
This fight functions as yet another punishment that Lan Wangji doles out to Wei Wuxian; not a physical one, this time, but a psychological one, and their relationship pays the price.
By attacking Wei Wuxian and forcing him to concede, Lan Wangji is showing that they're unequal. By criticizing Wei Wuxian's lack of progress and asking him the same goddamn question everybody else is asking him -- where is your sword? -- Lan Wangji is humiliating him.
This encounter does not re-establish Wei Wuxian’s trust in him; it just forces him to accept Lan Wangji’s authority, for now. Which is not what either of them really wants.
Soundtrack: Behind Blue Eyes, by The Who
Writing Prompt: What would Wei Wuxian have said if Lan Wangji had listened to him instead of drawing his sword?
#the untamed#the untamed gifs#wangxian#the untamed meta#cql#restless rewatch the untamed#canary3d-original#my gifs#2810 word count
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uhm hi can i request a spencer blurb where morgan flirts with the reader and makes spencer jealous and can it be smutty please?? thank you!! 💙💙
Hi lovely! thank you so much for requesting! i hope i delivered what you imagined, and happy reading❤️ as always excuse the grammatical errors❤️
Warnings : OKAY THIS IS VERY SMUTTY SO PLEASE READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!! jealous!dom!spencer, innocent!reader, messy smut description because its my first one so please be gentle with me :), hints of degradation, and car sex! enjoy!!
Please leave a like and reblog if you like my stories, feel free to give me constructive criticism and feedbacks, and send me more concepts! thank you.
If looks could kill, Derek Morgan would already be in heaven right now. Spencer really tried to keep his calm, but there’s something about the way you laughed at whatever flirty remarks Morgan sent your way is enough to drove the boy wonder mad, seething even.
Everyone on the team already knows how you guys are a thing by now, you both tried to keep it a secret of course but seeing how in love and smitten you are towards one another, it’s not hard to see the signs, before you even knew it, you both were summoned to Hotch’s office and given the “Don’t let this distract your focus especially on the field and strictly no PDA” talk, yet you didn’t missed the small smile that was threatening to appear in his face, both of you relieved that you are allowed to still have the relationship despite having to be discreet about it.
Now Morgan, morgan should’ve known that his pretty boy doesn’t like when someone touches what’s his, especially (Y/n), his most precious and way too obliviously innocent girlfriend. So when he decided to blatantly ‘flirt’ with you in the bullpen, to anyone it’ll only look like the usual Derek Morgan stuff, like how he is with garcia but Spencer isn’t no one, it’s not a surprise to see the way Spencer gripped his coffee mug as he stared at the way Derek leaned on your desk, saying things along the lines of “Oh you don’t wanna know, mama” as Spencer about to text his incredibly cute girlfriend, Emily rushed to his side and tap his shoulder,
“Hey, Reid have you finished the research i asked you few days ago?” her eyes glances at Morgan and (y/n) signaling that she knows what’s up. “oh! um yes i have, why? you need it now?” he groggily asked, while still throwing glances at (y/n)’s way and bit his lip at the sight of her laughing— god even though he’s mad, he can’t even resist that you look so delicately pretty.
“no, no i just need you to review something for me, lean over” Prentiss half-whispered the last part, before spencer leaning over and listen closely “Don’t just text her smitten tiger, go over there and rescue her— now see reid, that was exactly what i’ve been thinking!” He almost burst out laughing at the way she half-shout the last part as if to convince everyone. Spencer then nodded before walking over to where (Y/n)’s desk is at, with his hand tucked away in his pants pocket.
“Oh! Spence! Derek was just telling me about that one time he had released your number to the press” Hearing your giggle might just be the only thing that’s saving Morgan’s ass from his beating right about now (well.. also that he won’t ever hurt Derek but thats besides the point). Spencer throws a sharp dagger looking glance at Morgan’s way as he tuck a strand of hair behind your ears, “Mhm, and does he tell you that i beat him by hacking into his phone” Your eyes widen as you laugh loudly and genuinely, gripping spencer’s wrist, “You guys are such children..”
at that Derek smiles and throw his palms up as a sign of defeat “alright pretty boy, she’s all yours” that left your eyebrows furrowed, “what’s that all about?” she stood up, bringing his palms up to her lips to press a soft kiss on top of it, waiting for his response. “Morgan said to me yesterday that he has the same effect on every female he encountered, so i said ‘not (Y/n)’— hey don’t blush you’re making me want to bend you over this desk right now” Spencer whispered the last bit on your ear, which has you clenching your thighs together and draws in a sharp breath, looking around the bullpen “While we can conclude how your demeanor changed when its me that‘a making you laugh, how genuine and loud it is, i still don’t favor the way you were with him.”
“Spence, you’re jealous?” Y/n’s eyes widened, as she stepped closer to limit any space between the both of you. An act that makes it possible to feel each other’s heat, your lips almost brushed against one another before spencer grip your wrist tightly and dragged you to his car in such a hurry.
—
Your breath hitched as you straddled his hips, arms clutching onto his hair tightly and lips pressing against each other in a desperate needy way. His hands were all over you as he gripped your waist to gently guide you grind your pulsing warm clothed center on his bulge, resulting a groan from his throat and you whimpering with need.
“S-spence, we’re in a car and lunch break is—“ you were cut off with a lewd moan, as you feel his thumb skillfully rub your clit over the damp panties. “You drove me crazy, you’re mine and i will make sure you know that before anything else” He grunts in your ear as you desperately grind against his thumb, earning a mocking chuckle from him,
“Oh baby, so desperate aren’t you? sweetheart, i’m barely touching you and you’re already this needy for me?” He leaned back against the seat as he watched you crumble on top of him, heads thrown back, and body positively shivering. “You’re damn right when you said i’m jealous (y/n), you’re mine and mine only, say it.” His demands has always been your favorite, the way his hands gripped your waist will surely leave marks that you’ll adore, and the way he peppered kisses all over your collarbones suggests that he wants nothing more than to mark you up— show everyone you’re his.
“ah oh! i’m y-yours spence, just yours!” You managed to blurted out through your whines, which sent Spencer to a lust filled frenzy. He unbuckled his belt with ease before unzipping his pants and take his cock out— stroking it gently to tease you, “that’s right baby, so now why don’t you prove to me that you’re mine yeah? place your hand on your back, and ride me pretty girl”
you bit your lip at his response before leaning to the side to take your panties off, giving it to him, it’s really the game you two likes to play, he dominates you, and you obey everything he said, you’re his as much as he’s yours. And you know that you can definitely said your safeword and he won’t push you further. You trust him, and he’s there to protect you, the thoughts of that fueled you even more as you straddle him and put your hands behind your back, crossing them with your palm on your elbows.
“C-can you help me?” your voice wavering as you silently beg him to help you line his cock against your wet opening, your eyes glassy, and your cheeks flushed. Spencer swore he could cum just by looking at you, he guides you by your hips and align you both, before you sink down on him slowly- making you moan way too loud, you were borderline screaming “oh! you’re so deep!” you mumbled out as you feel him stretching your warm walls, and pressing onto your stomach. You watched his eyes fluttered shut as he composed his breathing before gripping your waist to help you bounce gently at first.
“That’s it baby, ride me, show me you’re mine” he whispered on your ears, trailing soft kisses down your jaw to your neck and exposed collarbones, “gonna mark you up, so that everyone can see that you’re mine” he groaned as he feels your walls tightening around him, “yeah you would like that wouldn’t you? needy little thing” the way he said that throws you puts you to the edge as you screamed, before he shoved your panties inside your mouth and quickly grind his hips up to you, finally fucking you in a brutal claiming pace.
“shh, as much as i -fuck i love hearing you, we have to be quiet -oh baby you’re so tight” he placed one of his hand on your throat as he keeps on the same pace, feeling his cock nudge a particular spot that has you screaming behind the panties “nobody gets to see you this way but me.” His breathing becomes labored as he quicken his pace, using every limited space you two have in the car and sending you to pleasurable oblivion.
“you’re gonna cum baby? for me? i can feel you clenching around me” He half groaned half whispered, pulling your panties out of your mouth to hear you hoarsely cried out for him “Yes! yes Dr. Reid! please l-let me cum!” you feel his fingers gripped onto your neck tighter as he fuck you with such a claiming pace, going feral. “Oh you naughty little minx, cum for me, go on baby, show me that i’m the only one who can make you feel this good” he breathlessly grunt as he can feel your cunt tightening around him, that resulted in both of you coming with silent screams and shaking limbs.
“I love you, i swear t-to all the books i’ve read” His high pitched voice cracks you up as you both tried to control your breathing, Spencer is holding you close to him, as he pulled himself out and grab for some wipes to clean you both. “i love you too Dr. Reid” you cheekily whispered on his ear, earning a grunt from him and a grip to your jaw “Everyone is probably wondering where we are, so if you don’t want to show up looking like a slut i suggest you keep your pretty mouth shut and behave until i show you just how much you’re mine when we get back later, understand baby?”
“Yes, Dr.Reid”
Oh you will definitely be the one who flirts next time.
—————
THANK YOU! SEND ME MORE STUFF❤️
#spencer reid smut#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid blurbs#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid imagines#spencer reid imagine#insufferableblurb#criminal minds smut#criminal minds imagines#dom!spencer#spencer x y/n#spencer x reader
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warm and real and bright
hualian pre-relationship, hualian & lang ying
word count: 3014
on ao3
“Here, gege, let me.”
Before Xie Lian can say a word, Hua Cheng has folded himself down in one elegant motion to kneel at the bottom of the steps. Something about the gesture brushes the back of Xie Lian’s mind, tugs at the corner of the veil shrouding memories from centuries ago—but he can’t place it and brushes it aside as disorientation from seeing Hua Cheng kneel to anyone. Releasing his wrist, Xie Lian smiles and waves his hand to shoo away Hua Cheng’s concern.
“No need, no need,” he says. “It’s only a little sore, it’ll be all better by morning.”
Hua Cheng hums, lips briefly thinning, and then he reaches out to draw Xie Lian’s wrist into his hands. His slender palms cradle Xie Lian’s wrist like something delicate and precious, a flowering branch or a fine blade. They’re cool where they cup the back of his arm, chilly enough to make his skin pebble up in goose flesh despite the hot spring day. His thumbs, when he presses them into the meat of Xie Lian’s arm, however, are firm and sure. A little gasp escapes Xie Lian.
“Oh,” he says.
Lifting his gaze, Hua Cheng peers up at him under his lashes but doesn’t still his hands.
“That feels good, San Lang. Thank you,” Xie Lian says with a smile.
Hua Cheng’s lips quirk up at the corners, as if pleased, even as he ducks his head to focus on the methodical massage.
“It’s just something I picked up,” he says nonchalantly, and Xie Lian puffs out a breath of amusement.
The skills Hua Cheng just happens to have picked up are so numerous and varied that it seems little wonder he could trounce those thirty-three gods. For a moment, Xie Lian wonders if Hua Cheng knows even as much as Jun Wu. A flash of guilt has him quickly shoving away the thought, shamed at thinking so little of his benefactor.
“Ah San Lang must be most popular in Ghost City,” Xie Lian teases instead, “giving massages to anyone he likes.”
“I only like this gege,” Hua Cheng replies with a grin.
That silences Xie Lian. He’s used to being desired or respected or wanted. In his first life, he had dozens of marriage proposals his parents tried to broker, and in the intervening centuries, he’s had a hundred propositions from strangers and acquaintances. He’s good at shrugging them off with a bland smile and polite word. He’s not used to being liked. He’s not used to the shameless, sincere way Hua Cheng will say such things—as if he really does just enjoy spending time with Xie Lian, whether it’s crossing the desert to unravel a conspiracy in the Heavenly Court or helping an old grandma make her way home in Puqi Village.
He’s not sure what to do with it, this easy and abundant affection. Replying in the same fashion, saying “this gege likes San Lang, too” makes his cheeks heat up in embarrassment and his ears burn. His stomach squirms. He can’t even scold Hua Cheng for being insincere, because then he’ll turn that smile up at him again and say something like he had that first night after Banyue, saying he was the most sincere person Xie Lian would ever meet.
“Ah Lang Ying should be home soon,” he says instead, seizing the first thought to cross his mind.
Hua Cheng stiffens, his thumb pressing into the meat of Xie Lian’s arm. His lips thin, and Xie Lian has to suppress a bubble of amusement. Lang Ying has tight-lipped about his feelings toward Hua Cheng, but the two of them resemble nothing so much as two tigers whose territories intersect when they are left in the same space. When he spies them in one of their wary silences, Xie Lian never knows whether to laugh or cry.
“Ah, do you really dislike him so much, San Lang?” he asks. “I know he’s very quiet, but it’s really only because of how he’s been bullied and not out of any kind of conspiracy. He really is a good kid, I promise.”
“Gege is too generous,” Hua Cheng mutters, but he puffs out a breath through pursed lips as he switches to Xie Lian’s other arm. “If it troubles gege so much, this one will do better.”
Huffing out a laugh, Xie Lian shakes his head. He doesn’t understand why Hua Cheng so willingly gives himself over to Xie Lian’s unworthy hands. It makes his heart seize both with awe and fear, like he might trip and shatter such precious trust. He reaches over now to poke Hua Cheng in the middle of his forehead with his free hand.
“San Lang,” he scolds. “You don’t have to agree with me one everything. You wouldn’t start liking Mu Qing just because I asked, would you?”
As expected, Hua Cheng’s expression darkens and his brows furrow.
“The Sweeping General can go fu—”
He stops abruptly, pauses, and clears his throat.
“No,” he says simply, and Xie Lian bursts into laughter.
He’d been so fierce, expression so stormy, before he caught himself. Hua Cheng normally carries himself with such elegance and composure, looking as graceful as a painting even when he’s sweating out in the yard. Hearing a slip into more crass language doesn’t take away from his image only fills Xie Lian with overwhelming endearment.
“To be fair,” Xie Lian says wryly, “unless he’s changed his cultivation path, Mu Qing really can’t go fuck much of anything.”
Hua Cheng looks up, eyes wide and mouth parted slightly in surprise.
“Gege,” he says, a little squeaky.
Lifting his sleeve to hide his mouth, Xie Lian sniggers at the shocked look even as Hua Cheng’s eyes narrow and lips quirk up. He so rarely surprises Hua Cheng; it’s a funny victory when he succeeds.
“Sorry, sorry,” he giggles. “I couldn’t resist.”
“Gege just likes to tease this one,” Hua Cheng sniffs, but the smile still lighting his eyes soothes any worry Xie Lian might have had about really bothering him.
Grinning, Xie Lian tucks his hands into his sleeves and leans against his thighs. Still kneeling at the foot of the stairs, Hua Cheng is the same height as him for once, and so when Hua Cheng looks at him, Xie Lian is hit with the full force of the fondness and delight in Hua Cheng’s eyes. His stomach gives a funny flip, something fizzy and unnamed sparking down his arms.
“I would never dream of teasing the renowned Hua Chengzhu,” Xie Lian replies, mostly for the way Hua Cheng wrinkles his nose.
“Hm,” Hua Cheng says, narrowing his eyes.
Xie Lian grins back at him. The sparks along his skin have settled into something heady and golden in his chest as Hua Cheng makes no sign of moving from this spot, kneeling before Xie Lian and looking at him with all his remarkable attention. For centuries, Xie Lian has shied away from being the center of attention, to being highlighted on any stage—but under Hua Cheng’s warm regard, he finds himself holding still, tentatively unfurling in its light.
“I thought gege’s cultivation prohibited all thoughts of such things,” Hua Cheng says.
Xie Lian shrugs.
“Impure thoughts are discouraged,” he says, “but thoughts are not actions. The only risk to one’s cultivation would arise from fixation on such thoughts that they disturbed one’s mind.”
He pauses and casts a sidelong look at Hua Cheng, amused.
“Saying ‘fuck’ won’t affect my cultivation,” he clarifies.
Shifting to lean back on the steps, Hua Cheng puffs out a breath.
“It might affect mine,” he mutters, but it’s quiet enough that Xie Lian isn’t sure he was meant to hear.
For a few moments, they sit there in comfortable quiet, watching as the setting sun dyes the shrine’s courtyard gold and amber. Contentment is a warm weight through Xie Lian’s chest, like a heavy quilt draped across his shoulders. Leaning forward with his arms pressed to his thighs, he’s close enough to feel Hua Cheng’s hair lift with the breeze and brush against his arm. It’s shorter than in his true form and mostly pulled up in a high bun, but tendrils have escaped and flutter in the evening wind.
On impulse, Xie Lian slips one of his hands out of his sleeve to reach over and tuck a piece behind Hua Cheng’s ear. Hua Cheng looks up in surprise, turning toward Xie Lian as if his name had been called. Xie Lian can’t help smiling as he tucks his hand back into his sleeve.
“I don’t think San Lang has worn this skin around me before,” he comments.
Hua Cheng hums and looks down at himself as if he hadn’t noticed which body he wore today. The thought causes a flicker of amusement to catch behind Xie Lian’s ribs. This one isn’t so different from his skin as San Lang, but it’s a little older, with sharper cheekbones and a shorter chin.
“It’s new,” Hua Cheng admits. “If gege prefers another, I can change.”
Closing his eyes to enjoy the warmth of the sun, Xie Lian shakes his head. A smile still curves his lips.
“I like all San Lang’s forms,” he says peaceably.
In truth, his favorite is Hua Cheng’s true form, but as he once told Hua Cheng, that has little to do with what he actually looks like and more with the fact that he’s willing to trust Xie Lian with it. For nearly the same reason, a bubble of pleasure rises in Xie Lian’s chest at the thought that he’s the first to see this skin.
He opens his eyes, frowning in thought. Casting a sidelong look at Hua Cheng, he hesitates and bites his bottom lip.
“Ah San Lang, could I ask a question?” he asks. “If it’s too personal, of course you don’t have to answer.”
Hua Cheng tilts his head back, leaning so that he can smile up at Xie Lian reassuringly.
“Gege can ask this one anything,” he says.
“Ah it’s just…your other forms have both eyes but your true form,” Xie Lian starts before embarrassment flushes his face with heat. What is he thinking, asking such a prying question? He really has become a nosey old man! “Ah forget it, forget it, I’m sorry. You don’t have to answer, really.”
Hua Cheng snorts, and when Xie Lian peeks through the fingers he’s clapped over his face, Hua Cheng is grinning. His sharp little canines peek out, and his eyes narrow in laughter. Xie Lian groans and covers his face back up.
“Can I see with both eyes?” Hua Cheng guesses. He gives another quiet laugh. “No, it’s just an illusion.”
Peeling his fingers away from his face, Xie Lian looks down at him curiously. He’d guessed as much—Hua Cheng tends to stick to his right side, keeping his left eye nearer Xie Lian, and in his true form, his eyepatch covered his right—but he can’t quell the curiosity that rises in him at having it confirmed.
“It’s less ugly than the real thing,” Hua Cheng says casually, as if guessing the question that Xie Lian doesn’t quite have the face to ask. “Better for going out.”
Xie Lian can’t help frowning at that, bothered by the implication that anyone would insult or make a fuss about Hua Cheng’s true form. No matter what skin he wears, he is charming and handsome, and Xie Lian would like to have a conversation with anyone who might say otherwise.
“San Lang is never ugly,” he mutters since he can’t go interrogate strangers over Hua Cheng’s appearance.
A smile slips over Hua Cheng’s face, more genuine than the look he’d worn a moment ago. It’s softer, more in his eyes than his lips.
“Gege is too generous,” he says, but it’s gentler than when he said it earlier, less mutinous. Stretching his arms behind his head, he hitches his shoulders in a little shrug. “As long as it doesn’t trouble gege, I don’t mind.”
“Hm,” Xie Lian says, gaze catching on the slender column of Hua Cheng’s throat.
He swallows and drags his eyes away. Hua Cheng really is too handsome to think so lowly of himself. Xie Lian can’t imagine anyone looking at him and seeing anything other than beauty.
The gate creaks open, and Lang Ying’s skinny frame slinks in through the opening. Smiling, Xie Lian pulls his hand from his sleeve to wave a greeting. Lang Ying’s gaze skitters toward Hua Cheng before returning to Xie Lian. He gives a little wave and hunches in on himself as he walks toward the shrine.
“Welcome home, Lang Ying,” Xie Lian says.
Lang Ying makes a little noise, ducking his head.
“Hi, Xie-daozhang,” he mumbles, “and Hua Chengzhu.”
Hua Cheng hums in answer. When Xie Lian glances over, he’s still reclined against the stairs, but his shoulders have tightened and lips thinned. Suppressing a laugh, Xie Lian reminds himself that he did say Hua Cheng doesn’t need to worry about changing his mind about Lang Ying. Maybe it’s just a ghost thing.
“Liu-furen sent this for you, daozhang,” Lang Ying says, pulling a box from his sleeve.
Inside is a little circle of buns, pinched into tidy twists and still warm. The sight warms Xie Lian, and he takes the box with a little ‘oh’ of surprise.
“Oh that was too generous,” he says. “Here, wait right here and I’ll get chopsticks.”
He presses the box back into Lang Ying’s hands and hurries to grab chopsticks for each of them. When he returns, Hua Cheng has shifted to sit up and make room on the steps, and Lang Ying has perched on the very edge of the second step. They don’t seem to be speaking, but there’s less of the taut wariness that usually fills the space between them. Hiding a smile, Xie Lian folds himself down on the top step and offers them each a pair of sticks.
“Thanks, gege,” Hua Cheng says with a grin.
“Thank you, daozhang,” Lang Ying mumbles.
Snorting, Xie Lian waves his hand and gestures for Lang Ying to open the box.
“I haven’t done anything,” he laughs. “Now come, come, eat up before they go cold.”
There are four baozi in the box, pale and fat against the slatted bottom. Xie Lian can’t help sighing in pleasure as he takes a bite, the ginger stinging his tongue. Lang Ying nearly drops his, only saving it by squeezing it tight between his chopsticks. Over the months he’s spent with Xie Lian, he’s gotten a little better at holding them, but it’s clear he went years without practice.
Before Xie Lian can say anything, Hua Cheng gives a little noise of annoyance and reaches out.
“You’re holding them too far apart,” he says. “Like this, see?”
He holds up his own hand to demonstrate. Lang Ying’s eyes flicker up to his face briefly, wide-eyed with surprise, but he swallows and gives a little nod as he readjusts his hand. After a moment’s fidgeting, he picks his bun back up carefully, and Hua Cheng gives a little grunt of approval at the improved grip. Xie Lian hides his smile behind a bite of bun.
They eat in quiet until they’ve each finished. Before he can offer the last to either of them, Hua Cheng folds his chopsticks together and nudges the box toward Xie Lian.
“All yours, gege,” he says.
“Oh no,” Xie Lian says, waving his left hand. “You both worked so hard today, one of you should have it.”
Lang Ying blinks, pressing his lips together.
“Daozhang,” he says slowly, “we’re dead.”
Surprise has a bubble of noise breaking across Xie Lian’s lips, and Hua Cheng gives Lang Ying a long look before tilting his head to grin carelessly up at Xie Lian.
“He has a point, gege,” he says. “Now eat up before it gets cold.”
Huffing out a breath, Xie Lian lets them push the box back to him. He doesn’t bother protesting that he’s gone months with less to eat. Somehow, he has a feeling neither of them would be won over by that argument and that it might just make Hua Cheng’s brow furrow instead.
Neither of them make a move to get up while he nibbles through the last bun. Hua Cheng still leans back on the step, watching as Lang Ying fiddles with his chopsticks as if practicing how to hold them. Pausing with the last bite hovering before his lips, Xie Lian can’t help smiling at the two of them. Gods are supposed to be impartial and beyond worldly tethers, but sitting here with a full belly and sun warming his skin, he lets himself admit that they’re his favorite ghosts.
Lang Ying lifts his hand, frowning down at it, and Xie Lian can’t help himself. Popping the last bite into his mouth, he reaches out to ruffle Lang Ying’s hair.
“Look at you, you’re just about ready to dine in a royal court now,” Xie Lian praises.
Ghosts can’t blush, but Lang Ying ducks his head in embarrassment anyway. Xie Lian laughs, covering his mouth with his sleeve.
“Gege’s home is better than any court,” Hua Cheng says.
At that, Lang Ying nods vehemently before stopping short, as if startled by agreeing with Hua Cheng. Xie Lian laughs. He’s not sure what reference Lang Ying has for such an assertion, but he’s oddly touched by his loyalty anyway.
“Ah well,” he says, breathing out a laugh. “I’d rather share with you two than any royal court.”
Hua Cheng’s eyes narrow in pleasure like a cat stroked over its nose, and Lang Ying ducks his head. It’s not quite fast enough to hide the little smile that plays at his lips. Curling his arms around the empty box on his lap, Xie Lian smiles. A ghost king, a fallen god, and an eternal fourteen-year-old—they’re not much by any outer measure, but with them beside him, he feels richer than any king.
#hualian#tgcf#tgcf fic#heaven official's blessing#SOMETIMES YOU JUST NEED SOFT THINGS OKAY#oh and also for xie lian to say fuck#my writing
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Lilies of the Valley XI
A/B/O!BTS x Reader
Flowers can have different meanings depending on the flower shape, color, and method in which they are presented. Lilies are my favorite for such a simple flower can have so many distinct meanings.
“ Considered a harbinger of good luck, health, and fertility. Over the years, the flower has been adopted a sign for eternal love.”
Release Date: 06/22/20 @ 7 pm
previously ~ next
YN had remained quiet and tense during the car ride, not wanting to speak for she was afraid what might slip out her tongue. She couldn't tell if Hoseok and Namjoon picked up on her silence, but figured that she could shrug it off if they questioned her. Thankfully she wasn't in the car for long, as the house soon came into sight. It took all of her strength not to throw open the car door and bolt towards her room, but that would only arouse suspicion. So instead, she waited until Hoseok opened the door for her. Interlocking their hands the second she stepped out and leading her into the parlor where the rest of them were waiting. Each of them was scattered around the room each entertaining themselves their way, but YN's eyes immediately found Jungkook. Laying outstretched in the couch with a sketchpad in his lap, as the pencil in his hand moved rhythmically.
“How did the appointment with Dr. Lee go?” Taehyung asked, setting down his book. Dr. Lee? “It went well though it wasn’t Dr. Lee that saw me.” At this Taehyung quirked an eyebrow, YN figures that perhaps she should’ve lied but figured that she didn’t have to tell them everything. “Oh? Who was it then?” There was something in Taehyung’s dark chocolate eyes that YN didn’t want to read into. “I don’t know some woman with a weird last name. I don’t remember.” She shrugged and that seemed enough to quell the beta, at least for now.
Jungkook had yet to look up from his sketch pad and YN desperately needed to speak to him but was trying to think of a way to lure him away that didn’t draw attention from the others. So YN walked towards where he was sitting and planted herself on the ground near his head, “What are you drawing?” She spoke softly, gazing at him instead of the drawing. Jungkook turned, flashing her a bright smile. The alpha looked much more at ease since they had mended their relationship, YN wasn’t sure where she stood with the man now. Not after what she found out but knew that Jungkook was the only one that would give her information. The others would surely lie if they didn’t react negatively that is.
“It’s a tiger lily.” Another fucking lily. “It’s my birth flower.” The drawing was beautiful, YN couldn���t deny that much. Jungkook seemed to be staring at her instead of the flower though. As if absorbed by her beauty. It reminded YN of the previous night: of the kiss with Namjoon and the intimate moment between the others. She had felt nice, safe, warm in the men’s arms and now there were so many thoughts bouncing around her head. It hurt. Everything. YN leaned further in her lips brushing against the shell of Jungkook’s ear, “I need to speak with you.” When she leaned back Jungkook’s doe eyes were wide and in shock. All it took was the slight tilt of her head and Jungkook jumped off the couch, immediately grabbing YN’s hands and pulling her away from the rest of them.
YN didn’t need to turn back to know all their eyes were on them.
Jungkook’s room had a specific aesthetic: very minimalistic with what looked like purposeful clutter. Especially toward the back corners where one was dedicated to his computer, cameras, and gaming station. The other was littered with art supplies, though YN did notice a framed picture of all the men on his bedside table. Jungkook took a seat at the edge of his bed noticeably tense despite what seemed like excitement just moments before. YN had only ever been in Namjoon’s room and it had been a very different environment. Perhaps because the lead alpha exuded charisma and a certain intensity the others did not possess. Jungkook on the other hand often went to extremes with his personalities, especially when it came to her. Tentatively YN walks towards Jungkook deep in thought about how to approach this.
Why Jungkook? Why did you do this? Why take the blame all these years? Why didn’t you just tell me the truth? Why did all of you lie to me?
“What’s wrong, Lily?”
That made YN stop in her tracks. Lily? She had noticed the men referring to her by the nickname but didn’t think much of it before. Now though it meant everything. “Why do you guys call me lily?” She tried to make it sound like genuine curiosity but wasn’t sure it would work.
“You smell like lilies. It’s a nice smell.” Was that it? It couldn’t be. Jungkook’s nerves seemed to have subsided somewhat and he moved back. Patting the empty spot next to him on the bed. YN was beginning to feel unsure about what to do. She didn’t exactly have a plan and figured that it wouldn’t be easy to put the young alpha’s guard down. Unless… YN walked diffidently, instead of taking the empty spot next to him YN chose to straddle the man. Jungkook wasn't expecting it, nonetheless, his hands immediately came to rest on her waist. His grip sturdy, yet comforting.
“Can I kiss you?” YN whispers, not being able to look at Jungkook’s eyes. It might appear coy, but in reality, YN was afraid he would be able to figure out her plan the second their eyes met.
Instead of replying, Jungkook went ahead and kissed her. His soft pink lips taking their time to ease her into the kiss, entirely different from the way the others kissed her. After a couple more seconds, YN parted her lips letting Jungkook take control. She lost track of how much time had passed, but any last nerves the alpha had melted away the longer they kissed. YN finally ended the kiss, taking a deep breath pretending it was due to the kiss instead she was preparing for what she was about to ask. She hid her head in Jungkook’s neck nuzzling his scent gland and she could swear she heard him whine.
“Bite me.”
Jungkook immediately tensed, pulling YN away from his neck and forcing her to look at him. “What?” His eyes moved erratically as if he didn’t understand where any of this was coming from.
"I'm nervous about doing it with the others and it's been a while. It won't hurt since you've already bitten me." She wasn't being serious but she did need to see his reaction. YN Needed to be certain that what the doctor had said was true.
“It should be with all of us present. Namjoon-hyung should be the one to bite you since he’s the lead alpha.” Jungkook was shaking his head, refusing in every sense of the word.
YN’s hands cupped his cheeks and she planted a small smile on her face. “Yeah, I know but I’m nervous. I don’t know how I’ll react or what is expected of me. I trust you Jungkook and -”
“No. I said no and that’s enough.” The transformation occurred in the blink of an eye and YN was immediately beginning to regret her idea. Maybe she should’ve attempted to do this with one of the betas. YN tried to move off Jungkook’s lap but his grip held her in place. “We’re all mates and it wouldn’t be fair. We’ve already been together and then you left. Ran away. I don’t want that to happen again.” His arms tightened around her every word he spoke, his pupils dilating in quiet anger. “So we’ll do it together. I can talk to Namjoon if you want. I’ll explain you’re nervous - he’ll understand.” Jungkook had the same look on his face that Namjoon had the previous night. Animalistic almost. As if he was more alpha than human at that moment.
“Okay, Jungkook.” YN’s tone wavered a bit, but Jungkook seemed happy with her acceptance allowing her to move off his lap. YN swallowed thickly, “I’m going to go to the bathroom.” Jungkook nodded, a smirk on his face. “I’ll wait for you.”
Before she left Jungkook called to her, “Anything else you want to ask me?” He knew. He had to. There was no other way around it, he had figured her out.
“Yeah, um, where the others around during my first heat?”
“Yes,” Jungkook said with ease. “They were in the house but didn’t participate. You should know, you asked for them to be there. Remember?”
“Ah, there you are.” Seokjin had caught her while she was attempting to sneak away back to her house. “Can I speak to you for a bit? It’s important.” YN nodded, still dazed with that had happened with Jungkook. “Are you okay? You’re a bit pale.” Seokjin’s large hand cupped her chin, tilting her head upwards. Seokjin’s scent was always calming and YN wondered how that occurred when he was an alpha. Seokjin pecked her lips quickly, not bothering to ask, before telling her to follow him.
All of the men's rooms were located on the second floor of the house, except Namjoon's who was on the third, despite this, there was a complicated layout to it. YN was certain that it would be easy to get lost and began to think that was done purposefully. Especially because Seokjin turned so many corners and different directions only to end up in the group's study. The room was a combination of all their differing tastes and had looked somewhat incohesive until YN had organized it while in her nesting craze.
“What is it, Seokjin?” The alpha went towards the computer in the center, unlocking it and searching for something.
“Your parents contacted us.” His eyes darted to her momentarily before focusing back on the screen.
“They contacted you?” There was a second question there, but YN didn’t feel the need to voice it knowing Seokjin would pick up on it.
Having found what he wanted Seokjin printed it out, an email, and handed it to her. “They apologized for their behavior and everything that occurred at the party. They stated that they feel remorseful and understand if you don’t wish to speak with them for a while.” It was all a bit too much. Everything that was occurring to YN right now. Perhaps noticing how the omega’s shoulders were shaking and the unshed tears in her eyes, Seokjin pulled her into an embrace.
“Why didn’t they just tell me?” Why did they abandon me? Is it because - Once again her thoughts headed towards a dark direction and YN wondered if her life would have turned out differently, better, had she been a beta. “I don’t know sweetheart.” She wasn’t sure how she should feel being comforted by the man, but she desperately needed a hug. “There’s something else, YN.” YN gently pulled away from Seokjin stepping back to leave space between them. Not trusting her voice not to falter, YN nodded encouraging him to continue.
“Your parents are cutting off their financial support. They said things have gotten tough and they can’t afford to maintain both you and your sister.”
Now that provided a different kind of problem because if YN wanted to get out of the house, she'd have nowhere to stay. Unless she roomed with Rosé but YN found that unlikely, Rosé didn't have enough money for the two of them. "Don't worry I already spoke with the others and we've agreed to help Rosé out." YN snapped out of her thoughts. "What do you mean?" Why would they need to help Rosé?
“Your parents were paying the rent, so Rosé didn’t. Which is a good thing because she couldn’t afford it anyway and your landlords don’t seem very lenient. Considering they kicked you out without remorse.” Seokjin’s tone was blunt and careless, his arms crossed across his chest. It then dawned on YN what all this was. What they were doing. Surely they knew by now, they must’ve. YN was being cornered and cut off being implicitly told that she couldn’t leave without there being consequences. It wasn’t just about her anymore, but her best friend as well. They were providing financial support to Rosé in the case YN acted out of line.
"Thank you. I appreciate it. I'll speak to Rosé about it later on today."
The day dragged on and soon dinner rolled around, YN found herself getting cornered once again but this time by Jimin. "Can I ask something of you?" The others were setting up the table while Seokjin was plating the food. "Sure." Jimin was practically bouncing on his feet, it made her anxious though she would never state so. "Can you sleep with us?" YN's eyes widened and she shook her head immediately, Jimin only chuckled though. "Not like that perv. I meant in our bed," His eyes dragged seductively along her figure. "It would be nice and it's something we should do before we continue." Jimin didn't elaborate anymore, in fact, he didn't even let her answer. Simply kissing her before walking away. Ar this rate YN was beginning to entertain the usage of a mask, but what worried her wasn't how often they were kissing her. Rather than biologically speaking, she enjoyed it - deeply so.
Seokjin had cooked Samgyeopsal, Japchae, and kimchi - upon Jungkook’s insistence - the food was marvelous, but that was to be expected. The men were rambunctious and loud as they typically were, though YN was much quieter compared to them never to the degree she was tonight. Her silence the cause of her attempting to form a game plan for what to do: does she confront the men? Does she simply try to escape? Without monetary support, the only place that would welcome her was the boarding house, but that wasn’t an agreeable option. Not to mention they would assign her a social worker and have to prove that her environment was a hostile one - which it wasn’t explicitly. For as progressive as living near the city was, it didn’t compare to the rights omegas had in other countries. The way they could govern themselves without needing a mate.
“YN.”
All their eyes were on her, YN realized they must’ve been speaking to her, and being so lost in her thoughts, she had failed to notice. “I’m sorry, I zoned out for a bit. What were you saying?” They all stared at her with such intensity, YN nearly cowered in her seat.
“My rut is coming soon and that can tend to somewhat trigger the others,” Namjoon spoke, his voice was calm and the words seemed planned. “I hate to put you on the spot and don’t want you to feel pressured, but we wanted to know if you would participate.”
Fuck. “i-I’d have to think about it. I promise to let you all know.” Hopefully, that would be enough of an answer for them. YN hoped they wouldn’t truly pressure her into anything, though from their modus operandi it didn’t seem like it.
"Don't worry, it isn't that big a deal," Taehyung states, cutting up his food and placing it in his mouth. YN wonders if that is a lie too. Out of the corner of her eye, YN can feel Jungkook staring at her. The look seems inquisitive, but she ignores him and focuses back on the food.
“You startled me,” YN says as she tries to calm her racing heart. It seems the men could not leave her alone for a second. YN had stated that she was going to shower and change, Jimin had told her to ‘hurry’ and that they would keep the bed warm. YN had to control the shivers that threatened to go down her spine. Yoongi was leaning against the door of her room, a small smile on his face. “Jimin was persistent that I make sure you did not run away.” It sounded like a double entendre even if it likely wasn’t meant that way. “Truthfully, however,” Yoongi sighed, “I wanted to check up on you. You seem a bit off since the doctor’s appointment.”
Was it that noticeable? Maybe they were just more observant than she’d ever give them credit for. Speaking about the appointment wasn’t the best way to, YN knew she would slip up and reveal too much. Instead, YN decided to ask the one thing she’d always wanted to know, the one propelling force in their bond.
“What is the pack bond like? I mean what does it feel like?”
Yoongi remained silent for a while, still staring at YN but not fully acknowledging her as if lost in thought. The silence lasted so long YN assumed he just wasn’t going to answer, resigning herself to yet another failed attempt. Until Yoongi finally spoke.
"Have you ever been by yourself in nature? Surrounded by nothing but grass, trees, the sound of birds, the breeze of the wind. Surrounded by life. At that moment, you feel connected to the earth. As if you were not a singular being, not an anomaly, but apart of something greater: a part of life. There is no reason to question your existence or your purpose in life because you are simply a part of this grander tale. No more or less important than the flowers on the ground."
The fixed look Yoongi gave her spoke much more than his words ever could. "It might sound silly, but that was the pack bond feels like. That's what I felt like seeing Namjoon that first time, meeting the others, and seeing you in that field during school. It felt as natural as breathing and as beautiful as living." So consumed where the two of them by each other at that moment that both failed to notice what information had been revealed. It would not be until later that they would realize it as well. YN felt her heart skip a beat and she took a tentative step towards the beta.
“Yoongi -”
At that moment the phone would ring, his phone, Yoongi answering it with urgency. YN recognized Hoseok's voice from the other side, but couldn't decipher what he was saying. Suddenly YN heard the sound of police sirens off in the distance when her eyes met Yoongi's again the betas glare was cold and unforgiving. He hung up the phone and turned around, not even sparing a glance at her as he opened the door.
“Stay inside.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was an order. The door closed behind him and YN stood frozen on the spot trying to wrap her mind around everything that had just happened. Her feet led her to the door before her mind could catch up, her hand rising to meet the knob only to find it locked. YN tried again, tried with both, she pushed and pulled against the doors but they wouldn’t budge. This was it. He’d locked her inside. He’d locked her away.
“Yoongi! Yoongi open the door! Yoongi open the door! Please! Open the door!”
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Ah hellooo, hru Andy. How's it going with that whale anon lmaoo 👀 :/
Neways, I love your writing so much and your shipping game got me so exited man, so for that-
I'm pretty quiet around most people, but I go batshit crazy around my friends an people I've known for a really long time. Introvert at heart, I'd rather eat a firecracker than talk to new people yunno, I didn't make my current friends, they sort of just adopted me. I'd like to think that I'm pretty loyal, and work ridiculously hard. I'm the oldest in my immediate and extended family which mean I'm the role model and on top of that my parents were always really strict — I didn't get the freedom most kids did growing up. I was raised to be good at literally everything which makes me really competitive but I tend to not show it so I've just become really passive aggressive. academics is easily one of the most important parts of my life. I've always been pretty good at school and my grades r pretty dope ig but I tend to worry about it a lot anyway because PRESSURE. So that's a lot of expectations to live up to somethimes and it can be a lot. I procrastinate A LOT. the number of wips in my drafts is proof :/ but I also work really well under pressure and in a time crunch which probably isn't healthy but it's helpful. So that's my tragic backstory. It's better than todoroki's, I know 😎.
My favorite subject is science, I'll be majoring in astronomy and other stuff related to that, and my goal is to get a job at NASA eventually. I love space science, just all the mystery in the universe and the planets, nebulas, and STARS. OMFG STARS I FUCKIN LOVE STARS STFU.
I also have a stupid stuuupid sweet tooth. I am a simp for chocolate and smarties, and u can pry my Nutella jars out of my cold. dead. hands. I play the flute and I love it, their such a cool instrument and they sound so pretty. Untill u get past high f sharps, after that their just murder weapons. IM SHORT AF. Idk why Im mentioning this but I feel like it could be relevant, I'm literally not even 5' man it's not fun.
My favorite flowers are wisteria, my favorite animals are tigers, my fav color is red, my fav fruit is mangos, I like to draw and paint, and I wear way too many rings. I love rainy days.
I really want a fucking burger king whopper rn
Aaaaaaaaaand
Cats>>>Dogs
Lmao don't remind me about the whale 💀 Where do whales fall on your cat vs dog scale, hmm?
Funny you mention Todoroki because he's your match! I think you'd work really well with conspire Shouto! You both were raised with supremely high expectations and you'd be able to understand and connect with each other on that level. He's also literally fic-canonically in love with a scientist reader, so you would be PERFECT. He'd love just listening to you explain all the things you love about the stars, and he'd ask really smart, pertinent questions in his deep, even tone. He's also prone to bringing small snacks and drinks as gifts, which would work perfect for your sweet tooth--you'll be inundated with little chocolates up to your eyeballs lol.
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You Can Bet On It
Summary: Your roommate drags you out to the club where she beets a tall, blonde, handsome brit. You hand back at the bar and happen to meet his roommate.
Tom Holland x Reader
Warnings: smutttt, a little rough, spanking and light choking, use of vibrator, alcohol consumption
Word Count: 8k (got a little carried away with this one...)
Oh god, what is that horrible squeaking sound?
You are ripped from your trance to realize that the irritating noise was coming from you. Your bad habit of scratching off beer labels when you are nervous was starting to show, as your nail had worn completely through the thin paper, and had been obnoxiously rubbing into the glass.
You had zoned out, letting your eyes land on the ground and drift out of focus, clearing your head for a moment or five. Bars weren’t your favorite place. Scratch that, this kind of bar wasn’t your favorite place. Watered down liquor, slurred speech, thumping music, and people who were drunk enough not to care that they were practically having sex in public.
One of those people being your roommate Madison. You loved her, but god you couldn’t be more different. She is wild, sparkly, loud, fun. You’re…not. Your squeaking had pulled your focus back up to the dancefloor of the club where she was swaying her body back and forth with some tall blonde stranger.
You had to give it to her, she had a way with men at bars. Barely even setting her stuff down before someone buys her a drink, uses a line, offers to dance. This was Madison’s cup of tea, or tequila rather. She loves getting dressed up and going out to the busiest clubs, finding some handsome stranger to whisk her away for a night.
You didn’t judge her, not at all. You actually found yourself jealous of her, wishing you had that kind of confidence. She had tried to help you on many occasions, being your self-proclaimed wing-woman and trying to help you pick up guys at bars, but you could never quite get the hang of the awkward small talk and rushed physical intimacy.
You did, on occasions like this, let her drag you out with her. It kept her off your back about being “antisocial” and a “hermit,” and you liked keeping an eye out for her, making sure no one was trying to take advantage. Not that she couldn’t take care of herself, Madison would snap if anyone tried to pull anything, but a more sober pair of eyes never hurts.
You had managed to grab a seat at the bar, facing outward to observe the bustling crowd. People-watching could sometimes prove to be an interesting way to pass the time, and truthfully you’d rather observe than interact most of the time. A few people had started conversations with you at the bar, and you weren’t a bitch or anything, you just clearly gave off the vibe that you weren’t interested in being bought some fruity cocktail and wooed onto the dancefloor.
Madison had her back pressed against the guy she was dancing with, his hands on her hips. The song was ending, and she made eye contact with you, nodding her head not-so-subtly towards the bathroom, signaling to you that she wanted to talk. Laughing to yourself at how un-smooth, yet totally smooth she managed to be at the same time.
“What’s up girl,” you ask as she pulls you into one of the single stall bathrooms.
“Y/N,” she grabs your shoulders, “he’s BRITISH.”
“Who?” you ask before registering that she was probably talking about that boy she had been grinding on.
“His name is Harrison, and he’s BRITISH, got the accent and everything,” she pressed her back up to the wall, pretending to fan herself off.
“Damn, going international now?” you joke, twiddling with the bottle in your hand.
“So, I need you to check him out, get a vibe, and let me know what you think,” she locks eyes with you, trying to be serious, unable to keep a few giggles from slipping out.
“I saw you two dancing, he’s definitely really good looking,” you tell her. She would always do this, try to make you feel involved, ask your opinion about the guy she was flirting with. She said she always wants your truthful opinion, but she always got the hottest guy at the place no matter where she was, so there wasn’t much for you to tell.
“Ugh, I’m totally gonna fuck him. Should I? I’m going to. I HAVE to. He’s British, and I can’t pass up an opportunity like that,” she was definitely talking to herself at this point.
You turn her towards the mirror, help her fluff her hair, straighten her dress, and give her some words of encouragement.
“You are hot. You are amazing. And you are going to have amazing hot sex with British Harrison,” you chant to her in the mirror, encouraging her to say it back to herself. Not that she needed the encouragement, but these little rituals you had in club bathrooms were always funny and sweet, it was one of the reasons you didn’t mind going out with her. You appreciated that she liked having your opinion, having someone she trusted around.
“Go get ‘em tiger,” you give her butt a tap as she exits the bathroom and shuffles back out onto the dancefloor, finding her man right where she had left him.
Your seat at the bar had been stolen, but you spotted an empty area over by a wall, somewhere you could comfortably stand and wait until Madison left with her suitor. Deciding to order another drink, something a little stronger than the beer you had been nursing, you make your way over to the bar.
Forearms leaning against the hard surface, you poke your head forward trying to get the bartender’s attention. She walks over, but immediately starts chatting up the guy standing next to you. Typical. If she pushed her boobs up a little bit he would probably leave a fat tip, so you couldn’t blame her.
You shift your eyes over to get a look at the guy next to you as he orders his gin and tonic, all you could see were his toned forearms and a glimpse of his profile. Not bad. You understood why the bartender was so eager to ignore you. She eventually stops fake laughing at his order, because what the fuck is funny about a gin and tonic, and looks your way.
“I’ll just have the same,” you say quickly, wanting to get out of there quickly and claim your spot by the wall.
“Are you copying me, love?” the stranger asks, leaning his bodyweight against the bar in the same position as you, “is that your move? Order the same drink to chat me up?”
“What’s your move, love” you quickly quip back, “being a dick to girls at the bar and hoping they’re into that?”
“You just didn’t strike me as a G and T type of girl, that’s all,” he puts his hands up defensively.
“Hmmm I see, be a dick and then tell me what kind of girl I seem like.”
You finally turn to him, allowing yourself to make eye contact. You hoped that he wasn’t taking your banter the wrong way, you weren’t trying to be nasty, you just found yourself in a particular mood.
He opened his mouth to say something back to you, but you cut him off before he could. In the two seconds you had made eye contact, you had realized that the stranger you were having your little back and forth with had an accent. A British accent.
“Are you here with that guy?” you gesture over to Madison on the dancefloor, “tall, blonde, striking blue eyes. English.”
“Harrison? Yeah, he’s my mate. If you’re interested in him you should probably have made your move a while ago, because he seems a bit occupied,” he chuckles.
“Yeah, occupied with my roommate,” you laugh back.
“Ah, I see,” he takes the two drinks from the bartender, handing you yours.
“Is he a good guy?” you ask, not sure why this man would tell you otherwise, “he’s not going to like, tie her up and murder her or anything like that?”
“Harrison? Nah, good guy, decent guy. He might tie her up, but he definitely won’t murder her.”
“Ha ha,” you sarcastically respond, “just looking out for my friend.”
“Why do you ask? You think they’ll go home together?” he asks.
“Oh, most definitely,” you tell him, “she dragged me into the bathroom a minute ago to gush about how she’s about to fuck a British guy.”
“Haz is a bit of a slag, so that won’t be too hard on her part.”
“Yeah, I see they are already well acquainted,” you turn to see Madison’s tongue down his throat. This night may be ending quicker than you had anticipated.
“I’m Tom,” he pulls your attention away from the public displays of affection and back to where he was seated at the bar, an empty seat opening up next to him.
“Y/N,” you stick out the hand that wasn’t holding your drink.
“It’s weird that you shake hands,” he says as he takes your clammy hand into his, his grip tighter than you had expected.
You shrug and take a gulp of your drink, abandoning hope of claiming the spot by the wall and deciding to camp out here with this strange British boy until Madison goes on her merry way.
“So how do you know him,” you nod back to where Harrison and Madison are.
“Oh, Haz is my best mate, we go way, way back,” he leans on his arm again, giving you a good view of his biceps against his black t-shirt, “we live in South London, but we’re here in the States for the summer. Work stuff.”
“Oh, so you two live together?” he nods at your question while sipping his drink, “so we can be sad and lonely at the bar while our hot roommates get it on.”
“Wow, I’ve never been told I’m lousy company before,” his humor met yours, “and I even paid for your drink you copycat.”
“You didn’t,” you give him a stern look but he shrugs back, a mischievous grin creeping across his face.
“Is this your ploy,” you smack the side of his arm, “the two of you find girls at the bar to lure back to your fancy apartment to have a freaky foursome with or something like that?”
“Now who’s being a dick and assuming things,” he says through broken laughs.
“Although,” you draw out your words, “your friend is pretty hot, maybe I’ll just go home with them.”
“Haz most certainly would not be opposed to that,” he jokes back.
You gesture to the bartender to make two more, and to put them on your tab. Tom gives you a look, but you give him one right back.
“Now I don’t owe you anything,” you explain.
“Hey, I’m not like that,” he gets defensive again, “I’m not quite as sleazy as my friend over there.”
“I’m just trying to help you out,” you narrow your eyes, “you’re the one who’s going to have to put up with the two of them all night.” You gesture over towards Madison and Haz.
“Pardon,” he coughs as he downs the rest of his drink, getting ready for the next.
“Oh, you thought they would be going back to our apartment?” you laugh sarcastically, “no, no, absolutely not.”
“Are you being serious? Or are you fucking with me? Cuz I honestly can’t tell.”
“Oh, you’re going to wish I was fucking with you. By the way she’s looking at him, I’m gonna give them, I don’t know, three, four solid rounds,” you try to make an empathetic face but can’t help the grin that creeps onto your face, “and Madison’s a screamer.”
“Too much information, thank you,” Tom covers his ears.
“Hey, I’m just trying to give you a heads up,” you cackle.
“Who’s to say he can’t convince them to go back to yours. I bet it’s closer.”
“She’s good at getting what she wants, and she “doesn’t shit where she eats”,” you make air quotes around the phrase, “in whatever twisted way that means she doesn’t like to bring guys back to our apartment. Weird personal rule, but I don’t question it cuz I always get to sleep peacefully.”
“You wanna bet?” Tom suggests, clearly not having thought this through, “My boy Haz is a smooth talker, and it seems like she really likes him. I say you’re the unfortunate roommate who’s going to have to put up with all that.”
“You’re on,” you set your drink down, extending your hand to him for the second time that night, “what do I get when they go back to your place?”
“If they go back to mine, I’ll cover your tab and leave you alone. And when they go back to yours, you’ll agree to let me take you out sometime,” he shakes your hand with a cocky grin on his face.
“Doesn’t seem like much of a bet, either way you’re buying me a drink.” He was growing on you, the accent, the floppy brown hair, the dimples. You were still wary of meeting strangers at bars, but something about him seemed genuine.
The two of you flipped around in your bar stools and faced the dancefloor. You liked that he never asked you to dance. Most girls would be dying to dance with a guy like Tom, but you liked just sitting at the bar, shooting the shit and sipping your drinks.
“Okay, okay, here they come,” you whisper and jab your elbow into his side.
Madison and Harrison stumble off the dancefloor and make their way to your place at the bar.
“Hey mate,” Harrison slings an arm around Tom’s shoulder.
You tune out their conversation as you notice Madison making a ridiculous face at you, eyes practically bugging out of her head.
“THAT’S his roommate?” she mouths to you, gesturing to Tom. You nod, trying to signal to her to be more subtle.
“Y/n, what the fuck?” she continues to mouth words silently to you.
“What???” you mouth back, trying to not let Tom and Harrison notice this awkward side conversation you were having. Luckily, they were occupied by their own.
“He’s fucking HOT,” She starts to whisper, you scrunch up your face, trying to tell her to stop making a scene about it. She gets the hint, but proceeds to point to you, point to Tom, and then do the finger going in and out of the hole gesture.
You slap her hand down as she starts to laugh, “Jesus Madison, cut it out,” you whisper, “you two are going back to his?” you change the subject.
“Yeah, obviously,” she says a little louder, “sooo, perfect opportunity for you…”
“Chill out, please,” you bring your hand to your temple, knowing she was being anything but subtle and Tom had probably noticed by this point.
“I owe you big time,” Harrison says to Tom as he starts to back away, taking Madison under his arm, “I’m serious bro.”
“Yeah, yeah, be safe you two,” Tom swats the air towards Harrison and turns back towards the bar, burying his head into his hands.
“Ha ha,” you poke his side, “told you that was a bad bet to make.”
“Know any cheap hotels around here?” Tom asks, looking exasperated.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” you look at him seriously, “he kicked you out for the whole night?”
“I offered,” Tom sighs, “he would do the same for me.”
“Damn, you’re a good friend. Certainly a better roommate than me,” you turn to him, trying to be sympathetic, “but honestly, you probably didn’t want to be present for any of that anyways.”
Tom gestures towards the bartender with his card, telling her to charge for both your bar tabs.
“You really didn’t have to do that,” you say.
“Hey, a bet is a bet, and now I’ll leave you alone if that’s what you want.”
You grab his arm as he starts to get up. Something inside of you told you to help him out, to not let him leave.
“It’s no Four Seasons, but I may know a place where you could kill a few hours,” you tell him, his eyes wide with excitement that you wanted to spend more time with him.
“You sure? It’s really no trouble…”
“Yeah, I’m sure, it’s only a few blocks from here.”
The two of you exit the loud club, only a few minutes behind Harrison and Madison. The stark contrast of the freezing outside air from the sweaty atmosphere of the club hits you. You take a few steps out onto the city sidewalk. Suddenly your feet buckle out underneath you and you are slipping backwards rapidly.
Tom quickly grabs you, one hand catching your shoulders and the other grabbing your hand, helping steady you. You gasp from the fall, but are grateful that you never hit the pavement.
“Hey, watch out for that patch of ice,” he jokes.
“Thank you,” you were a little flustered, both from falling and from being in his arms.
The two of you continue down the street, his hand still tightly gripping yours. You look at him questioningly, raising an eyebrow.
“Just making sure you don’t slip again, love,” he squeezes your hand a little tighter. You roll your eyes at him but don’t let go.
Typically, you would hate the pet names, “love,” “darling.” That stuff usually made your skin crawl. But there was something about his demeanor, maybe it was the accent, that made you not mind it at all. You actually kind of liked it.
“So where are you taking me?” he asks.
“Secret.”
It actually wasn’t anything worth keeping a secret. You worked at a small bar a few blocks away from the club you had been at. It was very different however. It was small, and never crowded other than a few regulars who would take the same booths and order the same drinks every night. It was down a side street, relatively difficult to find, hence the lack of business.
What you weren’t planning on telling Tom was that this was also the building you lived in. Your apartment was a few floors up. You picked up night and weekend shifts at the small bar to help cover rent, plus it wasn’t a bad place to spend your extra time. You never had to work too hard, and you could read or do homework behind the bar when not tending to customers. Plus, you got the pick the music.
You stomped your feet against the doormat, scraping all the collected snow off your shoes. Tom didn’t seem to be bothered that you had brought him to another bar, he seemed happy even. You watched his face intently as his cheeks grew rosy from the warmth of the indoors. You liked how the tips of his ears turned pink.
“Voila,” you gesture to the generally empty room, “the Four Seasons.”
He smiles at you and offers to take your coat. He makes his way over to the bar, choosing one of many empty seats. His eyebrows knit together as you continue walking away from him, hopping behind the bar.
“I’m not sure you’re allowed…” he starts.
“Hey Ernie,” you yell into the back office. Your boss replies with something muffled that Tom can’t quite make out, “no, not working tonight, just here with a friend,” you respond to him.
“Ah, so we’re friends now?” Tom asks as you start to make two drinks.
“Oh sorry,” you respond sarcastically, “I’m just here with the roommate of the guy who’s fucking my roommate, my bad.”
“No, no,” he brings his hands up, “we can be friends.”
He takes a sip of the drink you’ve handed him, asking you what it is.
“Moscow mule, fresh ginger, extra lime.”
“This is great, I’ve never had one of these.”
“What can I say, I’m kind of a pro,” you lean on the bar across from him, folding your arms on the countertop.
He liked your sense of humor, how you always had a comeback or something snarky to say. He also really liked your casual attitude, how you seemed unphased by everything. Little did he know you were constantly screaming inside, completely unsure of everything you said and did. Completely unsure as to how you ended up making a cocktail for one of the most attractive boys you’ve ever met. You tried to keep your cool though, and so far, it had been working.
You faced one another, sipping your drinks. At first an awkward moment of silence settled around you, exposing that the two of you truly had just met and knew virtually nothing about one another. You quickly slipped into easy conversation. You didn’t talk about the typical important things like where you worked, where you go to school, how you ended up in the city. You didn’t ask him why he was in the states, or any details about his personal life.
The stuff you talked about was far more personal than that. You exchanged theories about the ending of Lost, debated what Ben and Jerry’s flavor is best, shared the local vernacular and slang you used. These are the things that are important. You didn’t care what he did for work. But you did care what his favorite sitcom was.
“Does this place serve food at all?” he asked when your conversation had turned to what shape of pasta goes best with what sauces.
“Nah,” you gesture to the bar, “this is everything, no kitchen.”
“Damn, I could go for something to eat. Any good places around here?”
“Unfortunately, no. Everything near us either closed at midnight or will for sure give you food poisoning.”
He ate the lime out of his drink, sucking on the pulp until nothing but the skin was left.
“Really that hungry huh?” you joke, taking his lime wedge and tossing it in the garbage, “cuz I can cut up as many of those as you’d like, maybe even find you some maraschino cherries.”
“Don’t bother, maybe I’ll just drink myself into an oblivion.”
“Hey, don’t do that,” you were going against your better judgment when you said this, but it just slipped out, “I can get you some food, follow me.”
You walked around from behind the bar and instructed him to follow you. You slipped through a back door into a spiraling staircase. The air was cold and musty, and the stairs were slightly rickety under your feet. This was the fastest way to get up to your apartment, and you realized now it was too late to turn back, he had joined you in the stairwell and you started making your way up.
“You were worried about your roommate getting murdered by Haz, but now I’m starting to think I should be the one worried,” his tone was joking, but you wondered if he actually thought you were crazy.
“Very funny,” you dismissed it as a joke, “I live in this building, smarty pants.”
You raced him up a few flights of stairs until you arrived at your floor. You started down the hall, not looking back to see if he was following. Your breath grew a little shaky as you searched for your key, realizing you were letting this stranger, this hot stranger into your apartment.
You were just going to make him some food, you remind yourself. Maybe if he’s lucky you’ll let him crash on your couch, who knows. You kept telling yourself you had no reason to be this nervous. He’s just a person.
A person with big brown eyes and strong arms. A person who held your hand and laughed at your jokes. A person who willingly followed you to your apartment door from the sketchy bar you brought him to. Oh god, maybe you did have a reason to be nervous.
“It’s a little messy, hope you don’t mind,” you open the door for him, taking off your shoes at the door.
Your apartment was small, but cozy. You and Madison had been living there for almost two years now, and the apartment was well lived in. Funny pictures donned the walls, fuzzy blankets were strewn around the couches, leftovers filled the fridge.
“What’s on the menu?” he asks, reminding you that he’s here for food.
“Hmmm,” you open the pantry, “we have supplies for stir fry, and… stir fry.”
“I think I’ll have the stir fry,” he laughs, comfortably taking a seat at your small kitchen table.
You quickly started gathering ingredients on the counter, preheating the pan.
“Any preferences?” you yell into the next room.
“I’m not picky,” he responds, “thanks again.”
You start chopping up everything in your fridge and toss it into a pan with some leftover rice. It doesn’t take you long to whip up a decent meal, as stir fry was a recurring meal in your life. You glide into the living room, two bowls in hand. He had found your speaker system and taken it upon himself to put on some music, not that you minded.
“Fuck,” he mumbles after a few mouthfuls, “either I’m starving, or you make a mean fried rice.”
“One of my many specialties,” you were glad that he liked it, glad that he seemed so relaxed despite being in a stranger’s home.
“You’re pretty cool, do you know that?” he took you by surprise
“Umm,” you weren’t sure how to respond to the compliment.
“I just haven’t really met anyone nice since moving here. Haz is really the only other person I know,” he says through bites of food, “and meeting random girls at bars isn’t really a decent way to get to know people, not really know them anyways.”
You were flattered that he was being so honest, but part of you wondered if he was buttering you up to try and get into your pants. You had let him pay for your drinks, taken him to a secondary location, and then cooked him dinner at 2 am, he really would have no reason not to believe you wanted to sleep with him. And you did, oh god did you want to sleep with him, but you were still trying to get a read, was he a flirt like this with everyone? Were you just the girl who happened to be in the right seat at the bar at the right time?
This was why you could never follow through with casual bar hookups. Your mind ran circles around the other person, who they were, where their motivations were coming from. You could never just focus on the fact that you thought he was hot, and you wanted his dick in your mouth.
“Thanks, I guess, you’re kind of cool too,” you avoided eye contact, “but you realize that I am a random girl you met at a bar, right?”
He laughed at your response, finishing his food and taking both of your empty plates into the kitchen. You tried to stop him, but he insisted that you had done the cooking so he would do the dishes, you chose not to argue.
“Yeah but most girls at the bar don’t make me dinner,” he retorts. He had a point, this was kind of an unusual situation you found yourself in. Would this have been easier if you had met him a different way? Rubbed up on him like Madison and Harrison and scurried off to the closest bed? Probably. They were probably already at least two rounds in by now.
“I’ve never taken someone home from the bar before,” oh god, why did you just say that. Why were you being vulnerable and honest, tell him you’re a pro, that you do this all the time.
“Really? I’m surprised,” his tone was nonchalant, so maybe your awkward outburst of truth hadn’t shaken him like you thought it would, “why not?”
“Why not?” you repeat his question to yourself, “I’m just not really good at this kind of stuff, not like you.”
“Are you kidding me?” He turns from the sink to see you leaning against the counter across from him, “You were the one who wined and dined me.”
“I hardly consider stir fry and a vodka mixer to be wining and dining,” you tried to cover up your embarrassment.
“Jeez, then I’d like to experience whatever you consider to be wining and dining, cuz I’m having a great time.”
“What’s your last name?” you ask quickly, suddenly changing the subject
“Holland,” he tells you, “why?”
“I just figured I should know your full name, Tom Holland, if I’m gonna let you sleep in my apartment. You know, in case I have to report you to the police cuz you’ve robbed me or murdered my cat or something.”
“No offense but it doesn’t really look like you have anything worth stealing, and I’m pretty sure you don’t have a cat,” he laughs
“Both true,” you were laughing too. Still in the kitchen, you weren’t sure how to migrate somewhere else.
“You’re sure though? I don’t want to impose. I really can just go find a cheap motel, or go back to my place and crash the orgy that’s probably happening,” he didn’t want to stay if you weren’t comfortable.
“No worries,” you start moving to the living room, “you can make it up to me some other time. I promise you don’t want to be going back to whatever noises are happening in your apartment right now.”
You truly would have been content with him sleeping on the couch, slipping out the next morning, and never speaking again. Well, no. That wasn’t true. You wouldn’t be content, but you’d live with it. You didn’t want to assume anything, didn’t want to make a fool of yourself.
“So,” you start, obviously about to make a fool of yourself, “I can get you some blankets, and you can sleep out here. Or, if you want, we can share my bed. It’s up to you and I won’t be offended either way, I swear.”
Why did you always say things that made you feel so stupid. You winced at your own statement, not wanting to see his reaction. He took a few steps towards you, standing close, but not as close as you would have liked. You continue to look away, waiting for him to say something.
Eyes down on the carpet, you feel his hand grab your chin softly, angling your head up to meet his.
“And when we share your bed,” the breath of his words hitting your face, “are we just going to sleep, or are we...” Although his voice was cool and confident, he was genuinely asking. He had a hard time reading you, and wasn’t sure if you wanted him as badly as he wanted you, or if you were just being nice.
“The second one, definitely the second one,” you reply a little too quickly before he pulls your face to his, lips finally meeting.
His face was warm, and he smiled into the kiss, loving the way your round lips felt on his. He let his hands move to the sides of your face, cradling your jaw as his mouth moved against you. You pulled him closer to you by the grip you had on his t-shirt, the white fabric balled up in your nervous grip. You pulled him backwards with you, navigating your way down the hall.
Taking an intermission on the minute walk down to your bedroom, he presses you up against the wall of the hallway, shoulders angled above yours and mouth still hot against you. You reach your hands towards his, wanting to show him that he had control, that you wanted him to take control of you.
Getting your message, he takes your wrists together in one hand and pins them against the wall above you. His hips jut forward into yours as his wet kisses trail from the corner of your mouth down to your neck.
“Fuck, I-” you moan breathily as he sucks a spot below your ear, your hips rolling forward to meet his. All the while his grip remained tight on your wrists, keeping them steadily pinned above your head. You liked the feeling of letting go, having someone else control the situation. You were generally uptight and liked to take control in other aspects of your life, but this is one that you wanted to submit to.
“You what?” he responds with a steady voice, brown eyes burning holes into you. You knew your face was probably flushed red, hair a complete mess, and neck littered with splotches.
“I want you to fuck me,” you whisper shakily, “Please.”
Letting go of your arms and lifting you up by your thighs in one swift motion, he takes you by surprise as your face falls into his neck.
“This one yours?” he starts walking down to the end of the hall.
“Mhmm,” you mumble as you start to return the favor, licking up and down the base of his neck until you found his sweet spot. Suddenly you were falling back as he playfully tossed you onto your bed, sheets unmade, and blankets bunched up.
You land in a heap, quickly moving to take your shirt off. He moves quicker, practically tackling you down onto the mattress, causing you both to laugh a little.
“Hey,” he protests, “I wanted to do that.” He takes you hands and moves them as he had done before, and lifts your shirt off your body, you arch your back to help.
He slides his arm underneath you, causing your back to stay arched, pressing your chest into his. He slips his tongue back into your mouth, meanwhile he shimmies out of his jeans, letting them fall to the floor with your abandoned shirt.
Something between a gasp and a whimper escapes your lips as his other hand snakes its way into your damp underwear. Your hands lurch up into his hair, pulling his face into yours as he starts to draw slow circles up and down your lips.
He finally slips a finger into you, causing a guttural moan to stir deep in your throat. You bite your lip to hold the noises back, eyes fluttering shut as he slowly pumps into you. His face comes back into focus as he steadies your head, running his thumb across your lower lip, tugging it away from your teeth.
Instinctually you wrap your lips around his finger, letting your tongue drag itself across his digit. You open your mouth up from its pucker, letting him alternate his thumb with his index and middle fingers, letting those slip into your warm mouth as well. You match the movements of his hand in your pussy with your mouth, sucking down on his fingers every time he re-entered you.
“Fuck Y/N,” he groans, his cock throbbing in his boxer briefs, “I didn’t realize you’d be so dirty.”
You grew a little self-conscious at his comment, opening your mouth so he could remove his fingers.
“It’s so fucking sexy,” he drags the pads of his fingers down your tongue. He moves them down and drags the warm wetness from your saliva down your throat and onto your nipples that were now slipped out of the top of your bra.
You buck your hips into his hand and moan, loving the way he was above you, fucking you with his strong hand, fingers much bigger than your own. You felt his pulsing erection pressing into your lower thigh, and groaned at the thought of him filling you up.
“Tommy,” you didn’t mean to use the nickname, but it slipped out, “condoms are in the shoebox in my bedside drawer, if you want to fuck me.”
He removed his fingers from you, bringing them up to his lips to lick them clean. Your eyelids fluttered at the sight, grinding your hips up into his to show him how bad you wanted him. His shirt came off and joined the pile of your clothes that was slowly growing larger on your floor. You expected him to be fit based on his arms, but he was stacked, built, unreal.
He clearly liked the attention, a cocky smile creeping across his face as your mouth hung slightly open, eyes dragging across his perfect body. He tugs on the waistband of your pants, that were mostly slipped off at this point, to signal to you to remove them while he rummaged through your bedside drawer.
You maneuver your way into a comfortable position, now completely naked, head resting back on a pillow. He was taking a little longer than you expected, pushing and prodding things around.
“They should be right there, blue box? Probably unopened?” you chuckle trying to make light of the situation. The smile is wiped clean off your face as soon as you heard a faint buzzing, then it stopped, then it started again. Condom in hand, as well as your purple vibrator, he climbs back on the bed up to you.
“You are dirty,” he says, trying not to laugh, “I fucking knew it.”
“Hey, you were not supposed to find that!” You try to snatch it out of his hand but he pulls away too quickly.
“You told me shoebox in the nightstand! What were you expecting me to find? You have like eight of these!”
“I do not own eight! I own five, and they are all different and special in their own ways!” you argue back, both laughing now as he jokingly pressed the vibrating wand into your side.
“You keep all kinds of fun stuff in there, huh?” he was not going to let it go. So what, you kept a few…personal items in a secret box in your nightstand, condoms included. You didn’t think he would look around and take an inventory. Your lack of finesse with strangers in bars was made up for by your wide array of battery-operated boyfriends. It wasn’t your fault that the online shop you ordered from sent free gifts when you spent over $100…like fuzzy handcuffs and cherry flavored lube.
The two of you laughed for a minute, both in nothing but your underwear. You were laughing, but the idea of him fucking you with one of your toys quickly made a crimson blush flush over your face.
“Like I said darling,” he drags the vibrator down your stomach to meet your clothed pussy, “you’re fucking sexy.”
Your hips naturally buck up against his touch, arms snaking their way around his neck to pull his face down to yours. His strong fingers, much thicker than your own, re-entered you as he pressed the vibrator firmly against your clit.
You couldn’t help but moan into his wet mouth as he fucked his fingers into you.
“Please,” you whimper, “fuck, Tom, please fuck me. I need you so bad.”
“Only because you asked so nicely,” he whispers into your ear, somehow making your pussy wetter than it already is.
He pulls out of you, causing you to groan at the loss of contact. He tosses his boxers off, revealing his rock hard cock that springs up to his lower stomach. You mouth practically started watering at the sight. He pumps his hand a few times and then rolls the condom on.
You manage to move your shaky legs enough to slip your underwear and bra off. You didn’t have the mental capacity to be self conscious about being naked in front of him, because you were far too occupied drooling over his body.
“How do you want me?” you ask innocently, not meaning to moan out the words as you did.
“Flip over,” he gestures for you to get on all fours, and your knees got weak at the thought.
You positioned your ass up in the air, open and ready for him. You let out a sharp breath as he slides the tip of his cock up and down your folds, teasing you before finally pushing inside. He only pushes in part way though, waiting for your reaction.
“Fuck, Tommy,” you try to roll your hips back onto him, but he firmly grips your ass and keeps you in position.
“You need to learn how to be patient, pretty girl,” he slowly pulls your hips back to meet his, agonizingly slow but so fucking good at the same time.
Your eyes began to water because of how good his cock felt pushed all the way into you, you wanted him to move so bad, but he wanted to torture you, make you wait for it.
“Please, will you please fuck me, I need it,” you sounded so desperate, but you knew he liked it, liked hearing how badly you wanted him.
He starts moving in and out of you, firm grip on your ass never wavering. Quiet moans left his mouth as he fucked into you, causing your eyes to practically roll into the back of your head. He leans down to place a soft kiss on your shoulder blade, despite how viciously he's pounding into you. His head cranes down to your shoulder, his hand coming up to brush your hair out of your face.
As his long fingers move your hair behind your ear, you push your head back into his hand, not wanting to lose contact. He tentatively runs his hands up into your hair, taking a soft grip on your roots.
“Is this what you want?” he whispers, “you like it rough?”
“Yes,” you manage to squeak out, “fuck, pull my hair, spank me, do whatever the fuck you want to me, please.”
He took that as a clear green light to yank back on your hair, causing your back to arch more. He keeps fucking you relentlessly, filling the room with sounds of skin slapping against skin. The obscene noises coming from your mouth only encouraged him to fuck you harder, pull your hair harder, grip your hips harder.
With little warning you feel him suddenly slip out of you, and before you could turn around to ask how he wanted you next, you feel his hands grab tightly to the back of your thighs, keeping you propped up exactly as you are. You feel his hot tongue enter your warm pussy from the back, quickly licking wide stripes up your folds.
“Holy shit,” your brain could not process the pleasure you were feeling fast enough.
He starts to feel your thighs shake under his grasp, knowing that you are close. He wanted to make you come, and hard, as a special thank you for inviting him up to your place. And that he did.
He sucked harshly on your clit, hips tilted all the way back for him, giving him perfect access. You couldn't even articulate to him how good he was making you feel. You were moaning so loud you were worried the neighbors could hear, so you take a fistful of sheets and bury your mouth in them, muffling your sounds. You legs began to violently shake as he lapped up your juices, bringing a harsh slap down onto your ass. Your hips fell to the mattress as soon as he let go.
He grabs your waist and helps you flip over so you lay flat on your back. He hovers over you, placing a gentle kiss to your lips. You feel his hard cock pressing into your core, begging for entrance.
“You good?” he asks as your eyes finally focus, your brain coming back down to earth, “do you want to keep going?” he asks genuinely.
“I’m so fucking good,” you bring him down into a more passionate kiss, pressing your hips up into his erection, “I want nothing more than for you to fuck the shit out of me.”
“Thank god, cuz I want to feel that pretty pussy of yours come all over my cock.”
His words sent shivers down your spine, more so as he pushed back into your sopping wet cunt, finding a quick rhythm fucking into you. He presses your thighs back with his large hands, hitting you at the perfect angle. Your mouth gapes open watching his perfect body thrust into you. How the fuck did you get so lucky? Is this a dream? Possibly.
You notice a smirk creep onto his face, he raises his eyebrows and gives you a look.
“You didn’t think I forgot about this, did you?” he grabs the purple vibrator from the side of the bed and flicks the switch on.
You all but explode as he brings it down to your throbbing clit. The addition of the vibrations to his cock hitting your g-spot perfectly sent you into one of the most body-shaking orgasms of all time. If that wasn’t enough, you open your eyes to see his perfect hand wrapping around your throat, applying exactly the right amount of pressure to your neck.
You can’t say anything other than his name over and over as your walls begin to contract around him. You throw your head back as you see stars. He lets his grip on your neck go and leans down to capture you in a kiss, wanting to connect with you as you reached your peak.
Making intense eye contact, you watch as he bites his lip, savoring the feeling of you coming undone around him. You frantically bring your hands to the back of his head, tangling them in his messy hair as you come down from possibly the most intense orgasm of your life.
“Holy fuck baby, feel so good around me, fuck, gonna make me come soon,” he pants between thrusts.
“Mmmm,” you were still fucked-out from your orgasm, “I want it in my mouth.”
His eyes practically fell out of his head at your comment, lips coming down to attack your breasts that had been wildly bouncing each time he pressed into you. In one swift motion he managed to flip you over. You slide down between his legs and start pumping his cock, not wanting to lose momentum.
You wrap your lips around his head, feeling his shaft twitch under your hand. Swirling your tongue around the tip while quickly jerking him off quickly pushes him over the edge, his come filling your mouth along with your saliva.
His hips jerk up as he comes, pushing his length further into your throat, but you don’t mind, in fact you kind of like it. You watch his expression as you swallow his come, making big doe eyes at him. You lick your lips a little and crawl back up to meet his face.
Flopping down next to him, you let your sweaty body fall into rhythm with his deep breaths.
“I-,” he starts, turning to meet your face, “I don’t even know what to say, that was fucking incredible.”
You turn your head away from him, pretending to act shy.
“I fucking mean it, you’re perfect.”
Your cheeks actually turn pink at this. You press your head to his chest, telling him you liked it a lot too. More than liked it.
“I don’t know if this is weird, if I should go…” he starts to move.
“Offer still stands of course,” you grab his hand, wanting to feel his chest against your cheek again, “couch or bed is all yours.”
“Bed please,” he flops back down next to you and lets you tangle up in his arms, “as long as we can do that again in the morning. You have all those fun toys, I need to try them all out on you.”
The two of you quickly fall asleep, naked and basking in your post sex bliss, a huge smile on your face.
The next morning you hear keys jangling in the front door. Opening your groggy eyes, you don’t have time to fully wake up and register what is happening before you hear Madison knocking at your door.
She barges in, wanting to tell you all about her night with Haz.
“Holy FUCK y/n, I-” she starts before seeing the figure next to you in bed.
You frantically grab the sheets to cover yourself up and make a wild gesture to tell her to get out. She silently breaks into a huge grin, waving her arms around and pumping her fists in the air. You keep gesturing for her to get out, but she continues to victory dance on your behalf.
You knew you would never hear the end of this.
#tom holland smut#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland fanfic#tom holland fic#marvel#smut#fanfiction#tom holland#smutty#marvel fanfiction#oof#i need a glass of water
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Episode 31 of Word of Honor, and in many ways OH MY GOD YES, but also, no, show, wtf?
As in, wt actual f is going on? Literally, what is happening?
(Spoilers, so scroll away and come back later, if you need to.)
So, first thing’s first: I feel like this one may end up a bit short, because a lot of it is likely to be just a bunch of keysmash flailing? (EDIT: No, I just came back up here to the top from the bottom, because this is NOT AT ALL any shorter than usual.) I’ll attempt a bit more than exclamation points and worry over whether my poor heart is able to take this, but we’ll see how it goes, because the first thing I’m going to do is say I knew it! and I told you so! I knew you weren’t planning to die, Zhou Zishu. I did call you a liar after Ep 30, and I was right. I mean, what’s the point of having the terrifying master of the Ghost Valley as your boyfriend husband if he’s not going to rescue you after you’ve been kidnapped for attempted ravishment by the evil prince? And get you the best wedding present ever, i.e., a bunch of new disciples? Omg, Zhou Zishu’s face when Wen Kexing finally calls himself a disciple of Four Seasons Manor! (I think he’s so overwhelmed, he doesn’t even realize when WKX calls him “shixiong” a minute before that!) Wen Kexing’s tiny pained smile that he just can’t seem to help when ZZS lays his hand on WKX’s head! That long shuddering breath ZZS lets out, and the way his shoulders just drop, like he’s finally let go of a huge weight! (The worry this brings me, because there are five and a half episodes left, my dude, and your husband is a troublemaker, and I would not be getting complacent, if I was you.) The fact that WKX has knelt to ZZS and called him zongzhu in front of the Ghost Valley contingent – there’s gotta be some political implications to that. Horseback riding! The way WKX keeps holding (up) ZZS! Lol at WKX being all, you all can leave now, we can take our honeymoon alone from here! ZZS knew he would come (I told you so)! Their smiles! Their soft little faces! (Merciless killers! How so fucking adorable?) The hairpin! MARRIED, Y’ALL. Censorship? I don’t know her. ANYWAY, that’s all just a bunch of flailing reaction to the first almost 20 minutes of emoporn. Also, Zhang Zhehan, you should not do suffering so pretty. It makes me feel like a bad person for still enjoying your face so much when your character is in so much physical and emotional distress.
Secondly, show. We need to talk. You should not be this opaque. I’m trying to piece together everything that’s happened in (vaguely) chronological order:
Sometime before dying (before breaking his heart meridians?), Han Ying tells Wen Kexing about the Four Seasons Remnants back with Prince Jin. All of Ep 30 happens, with Zhou Zishu and Xie Wang both making a mess of Awful Prince’s/Yifu’s plans. Xie Wang, the rest of the Scorpions, and the Ghost Valley team retreat back to a lair. Which lair? Who knows, at this point. Cao Weining talks to Fan Shishu. (He explicitly tells this to A-Xiang.) But does he also confront Mo Huaiyang? Because I feel like it must be significant that we get the same turn of phrase to describe Zhao Jing’s relationship with Xie Wang – asking a tiger for its skin – from Mo Huaiyang to Fan Shishu, and then attributed to Cao Weining when A-Xiang quotes it to WKX in the same ep. The show even emphasizes this for us to catch by drawing attention to A-Xiang’s use of it via her struggle to remember the idiom properly. (A. This episode’s convo between Mo Huaiyang and Fan Shishu, which is when we see Mo Huaiyang actually use the idiom, happens AFTER Cao Weining and Gu Xiang leave Gentle Wind Sword Sect. I went back and checked, and it is Mo Huaiyang who uses it, not Fan Shishu. B. In this same convo, Fan Shishu says he still needs to explain all this to the disciples somehow, so C. Was there a prior, unseen convo between just Cao Weining and Mo Huaiyang in which Mo Huaiyang practiced his excuses on poor, hapless Cao Weining first?)
Anyway, Cao Weining then goes to A-Xiang, who’s lit. and fig. in the dark at this point, in her rustic cabin outside the gated community. I notice Cinnamon Roll already has his bag packed. He is done. He lays out the current political web, and A-Xiang seems pretty sure of Liu Qianqiao’s ultimate loyalty to WKX. This is probably important in what happens next. Gu Xiang and Cao Weining decide to run away and elope but then … get captured and taken to the lair. On purpose? A-Xiang did see Liu Qianqiao with Xie Wang in the Secret Cave, standing shoulder to shoulder with Du Pusa as an apparent top-tier henchwoman, and she probably expects to be protected, but this seems like a pretty big gamble. I suppose you don’t survive the Ghost Valley without learning to take some risks. A-Xiang then leads Xie Wang and the Ghost Valley contingent to WKX (at burned-down Four Seasons Manor?) to, she says, let WKX take down Xie Wang. She notes Xie Wang’s use of some potion to control everyone – I assume the Drug Man potion, and I assume the monthly antidote is what’s keeping everyone in the Ghost Valley from going full Drug Man?
WKX and Xie Wang confer in secret. Probably about how much they both hate Awful Yifu. I mean, I assume Xie’er still hates Awful Yifu at this point, but who knows what tomorrow will bring? Probably a key point here: WKX is hiding whatever this was about from his husband. My dude, why are you still like this? I guess that explains the pained cast to that tiny little smile earlier. WKX then takes some of the Ghost Valley contingent and coordinates with the Four Seasons Remnants back in Prince Jin’s territory to rescue ZZS. Husband safely rescued, WKX now heads back to Ghost Valley, to … abdicate? He promises A-Xiang he’s going to come back safely, and my dude, I’m trying to believe you. I really am. I’m trying to have as much faith in you planning to be back all along as I had in ZZS not planning to die in Jin Palace all along, but here’s a key difference: HE LET YOU IN ON HIS PLAN. Which you were a key part of. I find your secrecy, by contrast, concerning.
Other things:
Love the little moment between Gu Xiang and Liu Qianqiao and Luo Fumeng when Beauty Ghost and Tragicomic Ghost turn to Xie Wang in righteous indignation and want to know what the fuck he thinks he’s doing to their little girl. Compare the reaction of these two moms to Happy Ghost being all, “Nope, this is a complete and total in with Wen Kexing right here in a pretty pink dress.” The show continues to draw a fairly bright line between the characterization of the women in the Department of the Unfaithful - who are terrorizing certain people, true, but also watching out for each other after ending up down on their luck – and the general run of men in Ghost Valley, who are basically rotten sociopaths straight out of Batman’s rogues gallery and will sell you out in a minute for their own gain. Yes, this has been made fairly explicit in Wen Kexing’s and A-Xiang’s commentary in past eps and later in this ep about trying to get the Department of the Unfaithful out of the line of fire while not caring if the jianghu burns down the rest of Ghost Valley, but this isn’t just favoritism or a whim, just some fond memories of Luo Fumeng being kind to them a couple of times in the past. I think there’s some commentary here on the kind of men who are so far gone they find themselves outside the bounds of “civilized” society and the kind of women who do – how much easier and quicker it is for a woman, that it could be any woman in the wrong circumstances, and how much further gone a man has to be than a woman to be considered a “devil.” We’ve seen these supportive interpersonal relationships among the women since Gu Xiang “adopted” her two girls in the first handful of episodes and told off Lovelace with the threat of Tragicomic Ghost – and the show is continuing to show it, not just tell it. It’s one of the things I’ve found frustrating about Wen Kexing a couple of times in past eps, when he’s trying to get A-Xiang’s two girls, or other women from the Department, to just leave and go do something else – I feel like even though WKX realizes their circumstances and their personalities are different from the rest of his Top Ten Devils, he’s not fully comprehending that they literally have nowhere else to go, that if they had any other options, they wouldn’t have ended up there in the first place. He called the two girls “puppies” when he talked about A-Xiang having to take care of them, but as Ghost Valley master, who’s enforced the independence of and protections for the Department of the Unfaithful, he’s walking away from his own basketful of puppies. Not to mention, this is one of the vanishingly small places in this particular version of the jianghu that we’ve seen women have any autonomy and power. I … think there may have been a few young female cultivators in Yueyang Sect, but while I’d have to go back and watch to be sure, I remember the Hero’s Conference being a whole bunch of men throwing their … weight around. Anyway, I also love that it looks like A-Xiang tries to kick Happy Ghost in the shin, because of course she does.
Visually, they had a cool thing going on there with the Tian Chuang behind WKX falling in concert with WKX lowering his fan, but they didn’t quite coordinate it enough, and then they cut away too soon. Bah. It was set up to be a very cool visual, if only they had committed to it. Meanwhile Duan Pengju, this asshole, omg. He’s trying to pull off the Collar of Evil and is not succeeding. Srsly, his Collar of Evil is droopy. It doesn’t stop him from monologuing like he’s the actual villain and not some sad-sack lackey. You showed the correct amount of amused disdain during your interaction, but I can’t believe you left him alive at the end of it, Wen Kexing.
I wasn’t really feeling Jing Beiyuan and Wu Xi up until this ep when Jing Beiyuan was teasing A-Xiang about her lack of shame over running away with her lover. OK, fine, you can stay, Qi Ye. Also, wow. Speaking of lack of shame, I can’t believe you just accused your husband of bride kidnapping right in front of everyone’s salads, because that is totally what just happened there.
So the band is (almost all) back together, minus Chengling, who has definitely found out in the worst possible way that one of his dads is the terrifying master of the Ghost Valley that massacred his family and sect. So, this should go well.
Lol at Xie’er lounging in Wen Kexing’s Ghost Valley master seat like some kind of consort. He’s already got a husband, Xie’er. One that would not be happy with a concubine running around, I think. I do wonder what the full scope of their plan/understanding is, bubbling away under this stare-down.
A note – WKX’s hair is styled differently in this ep in the Ghost Valley master scenes than it has been before. Previously, those side bangs were further forward and a little bit chunkier, which, I think, narrowed his face and also helped emphasize the wild-eyed look. They’re wispier and back further, now, which I think softens his face, even when he’s trying to look imposing. Makes him look more, dare I say, human.
And now, I’m going to go have a few Han Ying/Bi Xingming thoughts, actually. God, those months after ZZS left, can you imagine what that was like for them? Han Ying having watched those nails placed in Bi Xingming’s shifu in the first ep, and then having to turn around and go to Bi Xingming and tell him that ZZS was gone, with the seven nails in him? Both of them trying to hold the Four Seasons Remnants together – and then Ying-ge comes back one day and says he’s found ZZS? Mutual aid and comfort, my dudes. Also some projection. I’m just sayin’. Meet me, I guess - this kind of sideline action and extremely rare pair thing is how I tend to roll.
#zhou zishu#wen kexing#gu xiang#cao weining#liu qianqiao#luo fumeng#xie wang#jing beiyuan#wu xi#zhang chengling#han ying#bi xingming#word of honor#word of honor episode reax
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IDK if someone else already requested this prompt, but can I have a scenario where Eijirō accidentally becomes Izuku's secret Santa because of a misunderstanding??? That's all I wanted to say, TYSM & ILYSM 💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖💖 (Platonic KiriDeku) - btw, I've read your previous prompts & they're all sooo good!!!! My favorites are It's Always Been You, Disclosure, Forgive Me, Burning Need, The Rabbit and the Tiger, & Recipe for Disaster 😍😍😍🤩🤩🤩
*Frantically scrambles to get this done before Christmas becomes completely irrelevant* Bibbidi bobbidi boo, it is done, friendo! 😘 This is my first Kirishima POV so fingers crossed it turned out alright :’)
(Also, thank you so much, I’m sobbing?! That really warms my heart - I’m so glad you’ve enjoyed them! 💖💖💖)
Eijirou never claimed to be the brightest bulb on the planet.
Granted, it wasn’t through lack of trying; some things just came easier to him than others. For example, when Ectoplasm was spouting about letters which had no right to be in maths, he felt like ripping his hair out - he always refrained though, his hair took way too long to style only for him to mess it up over algebra. However, put him in a gym and ask him about the different muscle groups and he’d be able to recite them with ease.
His strengths just laid elsewhere.
So, when Iida announced something to the class in the common room, Eijirou was too busy watching a workout video on his phone to pay attention. It wasn’t until the class rep wandered over with a bowl full of paper that he realised he probably should’ve been listening.
‘Err… Hey, Mr Class Rep!’ He laughed awkwardly.
‘Good evening, Kirishima-san.’ Iida nodded in greeting and held the bowl out expectantly. ‘Time to pick out a name. Remember, you’re not allowed to tell anyone who you’ve got. As heroes in training, it is important that we are able to keep confidential information a secret.’
Eijirou saluted, before dipping his hand in and picking out a piece of paper. He curiously opened it to find “Midoriya” scrawled out messily on the page. When he confirmed that he hadn’t picked out his own name, Iida said his goodbye and moved on to the next person.
Once alone, Eijirou looked down at the paper crumpled in his hands, the ink staring mockingly at him. He really should’ve been paying attention, but he didn’t want to ask what was happening and risk everyone being disappointed in him. Maybe he could just figure it out based on what he had already heard?
Iida had mentioned keeping it a secret. He also brought up them being heroes in training. Maybe that meant a training event was happening soon! Eijirou furrowed his eyebrows together. They usually didn’t plan things this far ahead though…
‘Hey, Iida!’ He called. ‘When’s this happening?’
‘The evening of the 24th!’ He chopped the air as he spoke. ‘The 25th would be too hectic.’
‘Great, thanks!’ Eijirou gave him a thumbs up to accentuate his point.
When the attention was directed away from him, he sighed and looked across the room at where Midoriya was talking excitedly to Todoroki.
If this was a training exercise, then Eijirou would have to up his game. Besides Bakugou and Crimson Riot, Midoriya was the manliest person he knew and had proved himself to be a formidable opponent time and time again. In order to best him, Eijirou would need to work extra hard and give it his all.
He hastily stuffed the piece of paper in his pocket and stood, excusing himself.
He needed to hit the gym.
💪💪
Six days after he had picked out Midoriya’s name, Eijirou was fairly confident that he could give his opponent a good fight. He just needed one extra push. He needed to train with someone - or someones - who knew Midoriya and his fighting style.
‘Hey Bakubro! Todoroki!’ He called.
His two classmates were in the kitchen; neither appeared to have heard him. Bakugou stood by the oven, wok and wooden spoon in his hands as he cooked something spicy, while Todoroki sat at the counter opposite, conjuring small pebbles of ice and throwing them at the blonde’s back.
‘I swear to fucking All Might, Icyhot, if you don’t cut that out, I’m gonna beat the shit out of you.’ He growled dangerously.
‘I'd like to see you try, bitch.’ Todoroki replied nonchalantly, aiming for the back of his head.
Before Bakugou could respond, however, Eijirou decided to intervene.
‘Hey guysss!’ He called out again, rushing forwards and standing between them. The two looked at him confused, but nodded in greeting. ‘I need your help with something.’
‘Why you asking Icyhot?’ Bakugou growled. ‘Ask me instead, Shittyhair!’
‘Jealous?’ Todoroki raised an eyebrow.
‘It’s important I talk to both of you!’ Eijirou laughed nervously and patted the blonde on the shoulder. ‘Well, I say talk… What I mean is… I need your help for training.’
‘Anything in particular?’ Todoroki asked.
‘Well, I’m not supposed to say, but...’ He hesitated. It would be fine if he told them, right? It wasn't like either of them couldn't keep a secret. ‘When we were drawing names last week, I got Midoriya, and you guys know his fighting style best, so I was hoping to spar with you both to improve my training for when I face him.’
The silence in the room was almost deafening, until...
'Dammit, I wanted to get Midoriya.' Todoroki whispered as if Eijirou couldn't hear him.
Bakugou merely huffed.
‘So you’re telling me that you got stupid Deku for your Secret Santa and your immediate reaction was to fight him?’ He finally asked, looking at him like he had grown a second head. 'You know what? No. I'm proud of you.'
‘Secret Santa?’ Eijirou tilted his head to the side. When Bakugou facepalmed in response, he turned to find Todoroki raising an eyebrow, clearly amused.
‘Didn’t you hear Iida explain it?’ He asked, voice even.
‘Not really, but I didn’t want to ask.’ He chuckled nervously. ‘But I assumed that if Iida had organised it, it had to be something to do with training, so I’ve been hitting the gym more because I wanted to put up a good fight, but now I realise that I have to...’
He trailed off and his smile faltered as his eyes widened with realisation. ‘Now I have until tomorrow to get Midoriya a present.’
‘I wouldn’t worry too much.’ Todoroki spoke, shrugging his shoulders. ‘Midoriya is really easy to buy for.’
‘You buy him stuff often?’ Eijirou furrowed his eyebrows together in question.
‘Icyhot has a fucking hard-on for stupid Deku, if you haven’t noticed.’ Bakugou tsked.
‘And you have a hard-on for Kirishima.’ Todoroki replied easily, before turning to Eijirou. ‘Sorry about that, by the way.’
‘Moving on!’ Bakugou exclaimed angrily before Eijirou could process any of what had just occurred. ‘Deku likes heroes and All Might. Literally get him something related to that and happy fucking days.’
‘It’s important to know what he’s already got though.’ Todoroki urged. ‘He already has the official bronze-age, silver-age and golden-age All Might figurines, including the pop vinyl figures. He also has five rare limited edition All Might-’
Eijirou’s brain was starting to do that thing again where it just kind of switched off. He was interested in what Todoroki had to say, honest, he just had trouble processing the fact that Todoroki had the capability of actually speaking more than two sentences at a time.
His eyes must’ve glazed over, because Bakugou suddenly whacked him around the back of the head to snap him out of it.
‘ugh, this is so difficult.’ Eijirou moaned, hiding his face in his hands. ‘So basically he has every single piece of All Might merchandise that a normal person can afford.’
‘I mean, when you put it like that...’ Todoroki stroked his chin, contemplative. ‘You could try and find him merch for other heroes though. As long as it’s not Endeavour, I think he’ll be happy.’
At that moment, a thought struck Eijirou. It was an idea unlike any other. He knew that in the years to come, people would ask him, 'Red Riot, what was your best idea?' and he would immediately think of this moment. It was like the first time he had discovered the beauty of hair spray.
It was a revelation.
‘I have the perfect idea!’ He proclaimed, startling both of his friends. Before either of them could respond though, he quickly thanked them and booked it out of the kitchen.
All it’ll cost me is several boxes of tea!
💪💪
After several hours of pleading with Yaoyorozu, bargaining with Jirou on her behalf, one roll of wrapping paper and way too much tape later, Eijirou placed his present in the designated bag in the common room and collapsed onto one of the sofas, ready to fall asleep. However, Iida’s booming voice soon echoed through the room, startling him.
‘All right! Now that everyone’s presents have been put in the bag, it is time for the Secret Santa exchange!’ His hands chopped through the air as Kaminari stealthily placed a Santa's hat on the class rep’s head without him noticing. ‘Midoriya-san, if you could help me hand out the presents while everyone else gets settled, I would be very grateful!’
‘Of course, Iida-kun!’ Eijirou saw Midoriya sprint over, an eager smile on his lips. However, he tried to hide his snigger when his friend's actions only prompted Iida to lecture him about running inside.
Soon enough, all the presents were handed out and everyone was settled on the sofas and carpet cushions. After opening his own present and finding an erotic Santa×Reader novella called Spanked by Santa inside, Eijirou's eyes instantly landed on Kaminari and the two sniggered to themselves.
'Bro, really?'
'I don't know what you're talking about, man!'
'I know this was you!'
When the two of them calmed down, Eijiro turned and watched as Midoriya struggled to unwrap his present. His crooked hands tried to navigate his way around the mass of tape and Eijrou felt incredibly guilty. Luckily, Todoroki was sitting next to him and helped rip the hardest parts away, only sending Eijirou an exasperated glance once, which he thought was pretty good going.
He leant forwards in his seat and waited for the moment of realisation and oh boy, he was so glad that he did. Wrapping paper torn off, Midoriya stared at the present with wide emerald eyes and let out a shocked gasp.
In his hands was the first ever hero Deku figurine - trademark and copyright Yaoyorozu Momo - ever to exist. Eijirou watched as his friend turned the figure around in his hands, noticing every detail, from the hints of red that poked out from his iron soles, to his white air force gloves, to the yellow bolts fastened to his knee pads, and to the respirator around his neck. A smile appeared on Midoriya’s face and his eyes shone brightly…
Then he promptly burst out crying.
Uraraka and Todoroki, who were sitting either side of their friend, promptly procured two buckets from behind them and held them up, catching the flood of tears pouring from Midoriya’s eyes, while Tsu came up behind him and slid a waterproof coat over his Christmas jumper.
Had they expected this?
Startled, Eijirou leaped off the sofa and ran over to them, scrambling over the mass of presents and wrapping paper scattered around the floor.
‘Midoriya! Oh my god, are you okay?!’ He grasped his friend’s shoulders and shook him slightly as he continued to openly sob. ‘I’m so sorry, do you hate it? Man, I didn’t mean to make you cry-’
‘Kirishima-kun...’ Midoriya slowly calmed himself, reducing the flood of tears down to a slight drizzle as he wiped at his eyes with a waterproof sleeve. ‘I- I love it! I love it so much! Thank you!’
Eijirou stilled, slowly removing his hands from his friend’s shoulders.
’You… You do?’
‘Really, really!’ Midoriya sniffed, eyes now dry and staring at Eijirou with so much gratitude that he had to refrain from placing a hand over his heart and wincing at the intensity. ‘You’re so thoughtful - thank you so much!’
‘No problem, dude!’ Eijirou rubbed the back of his neck and smiled nervously. ‘You’re one of the best heroes out there. It’s only fair that there’s some merch of you out there as well, haha!’
Before he could comprehend what was happening, green lightning suddenly began to crackle around Midoriya as he surged forwards and tackled Eijirou to the floor. His friend hugged his waist tightly and cried freely into his shirt. Not knowing how to proceed, Eijirou gingerly returned the hug and smiled dopily.
So manly.
#kirishima eijirou#midoriya izuku#bakugou katsuki#todoroki shoto#minor tododeku#minor kiribaku#AgarJelly writes#lovely people#christmas fic#secret santa#the SS book was a present i received back in uni haha#platonic kirideku
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Fleeting Lotus
An usually sunny day on September 22nd. Reminiscing on the great remembrance of the 21st night of September. Although the sky was clear, my thoughts were cloudy. 3 years had passed since the death of my mother and I celebrated how I celebrated any other anniversary in my life, with a pack of menthol cigarettes and a book to get lost in. The pick for the day was Harry Potter: Order of the Phoenix. My mother and I shared a love for Harry Potter, she introduced me to the series. I had a strange feeling that judgement was coming to me swiftly much as it met our three estranged heroes.
A knock at the door.
“Los Angeles police, open up.” an assertive, but comforting voice commanded.
I open the door to be greeted by a beautiful detective James. First name unknown. She had a slicked back, long curly ponytail and eyes of warm chocolate. Her skin was sun kissed and I found her presence to be encapturing. I wonder what she wants with me.
“Good morning sir. I am detective James. I am aware that your girlfriend, Lauren, has been missing for a couple of days and I would like to ask you some questions.” Her eyes pierced at me with persistence. Her tone sounded as if she was asking a question, but I knew she would come again if I denied. Maybe with more reinforcement.
“Uh, sure. Come on in.” I shut the green door behind her and light a cigarette. If I am to be interrogated, I shall answer in smoke.
“Sir, can you put that out?”
“No, but I’ll open a window for you. You can sit by it.” I turn on a fan and open a window. I open the blinds slightly to see the families laugh and play in the shallow, motel infested pool. What a bunch of turds, I laugh to myself.
I grab a seat for the lady and one for myself next to the ashtray. I see her eyes wander in silent judgement and amazement of the room.
“There you go, Ms. James. Now what can I help you with?”
“Your girlfriend, Lauren Alexander-”
“Ex. I don’t make love to the dead,” I chuckle.
“She has been missing for over five days. We are doing an investigation and asking all close friends and family members about her whereabouts and when they saw her last. Why do you say she is dead?” she asks unsteadily, gripping the upholstered arm chair.
“Well, five days missing in this city means you’ve been kidnapped or killed. Especially for women, I’m sure you know that all too well yourself ma’am. Besides, I am the one who called to inform the police of her absence.” I take a drag and relinquish the air and stress I had built up inside of me for the past few days. She eyed me up and down as I spoke, taking notice of my fully unbuttoned beige, roaring tiger print shirt to reveal my white Hanes undershirt matched with my khaki capris. I placed my leg over my ankle so maybe she would catch a glance of my Nike socks and birkenstock combination. I did dress myself today after all. Her eyes read suspicion, but somehow I could tell she was doubtful of me.
“Well, I would just like to ask some questions and I will be on my way.”
“Ask away. How rude of me. I forgot to mention, my name is Jacob Whitmore. My friends call me Jakey, but they haven’t been calling me as much lately.” I took another drag. Nothing screams rise and shine like a nicotine coated menthol and sitting across from an upgraded police officer.
She shakes her head in disgust and despair. “Mr. Whitmore-”
‘Please, call me Jacob.”
A heavy breath followed by a restrained urge to eye roll left the detective.
“No more interruptions please. Where were you on Thursday, September 18th?”
“Well let’s see.” I begin to close my eyes and play in my hair in an attempt to rush my memory to the present. I need more nicotine for this. “I remember waking up that morning in my downtown Los Angeles apartment, noisier than ever that morning. Lauren had made me her classic breakfast special: bland eggs with turkey bacon and 3 chocolate chip Eggos before rushing off to work. She worked multiple jobs. She walked dogs in the morning before heading off to her fabulous mansion tour of house cleaning. Demeaning, but rewarding as me and the bills always thanked her. I had suspicions that she had been cheating on me. I found love letters in her pockets while doing the laundry. I was a stay at home while she took care of me in between jobs. I know, you don’t find too many of us house husbands,” I said, smirking at the unimpressed detective.
“Anyways, I decided that day I was going to follow her. Do some investigating of my own. I could’ve asked her, but I wanted to see for my own eyes the poor bastard that she was playing. You see, she loved me. We were in love and inseparable. She would be playing this rascal, but still wishing the man sweetening her gears was me.” I lit another cigarette, thankful for the lotus shaped ashtray that contained a mountain of my remnants over these past few days.
“Self absorbed, maybe but that was the kind of love her and I shared.” A smile shot across my face uncontrollably. “To my great fortune, she was loyal. I watched her rip the gardening boy a new one as she proclaimed her love for me. Lauren had the mouth of a New Yorker with the face of an angel.” A chuckle escaped through my lips along with the smoke. “I was so happy I bought her roses, her favorites. Yellow bodies with pinked tipped petals. I bought her three bouquets and decided I was going to make her favorite, fettuccine alfredo. Then I was going to lay her down like I was a handyman and the Lord hand delivered me a golden pipe to fix all broken faucets in the city.” I ashed my cigarette and began to spiral as the next menthol met my lips. I could see the concern on the detective’s face as my demeanor began to colden.
“I made her dinner. I cleaned the apartment. I lit candles on the table and on the counter. I wasn’t too big of a romantic, but I knew how to set the mood.” I chuckled as I hunched over in my chair, staring at the ground. My hands began to tremble. I abandoned my dear ashtray for the floor. “I called her five times in the first round, no response. The clock struck 5:30, and I knew that was the time she was usually getting onto the bus. Sometimes she had went to the gay bar on Melrose, the one with the illuminated turtle splashing into an ale of beer. That quacky place,” I begin to rub my head in distress. “But she texted me that she had a long day and would be coming home as soon as possible to run a bubble bath. I was going to fuck her in the tub too.” I place my hands in my head as I wipe the tears from the corners of my eyes, sucking them back into their place. The detective has been silent, but watching me in suspense like an audience member of a Shakespearan tragedy.
“By 8 o’clock, I still had no response or sight of her. The candles were melting down to the stem and the alfredo might as well have been frozen. That’s when I made a call to the station.” I stepped on the menthol delight to extinguish it before lighting another. Only four left in the pack. Fuck. I hope this wasn’t going to take much longer.
The detective nodded and I noticed she was taking notes. She seemed very good at her job. “I have some more questions for you...Jacob” she ended her sentence hesitantly, but her soft tone comforted my damaged soul. She shifted in her seat to her legs being crossed as if she was finally finding comfort in her 1940s styled chair. “Now we visited some of her colleagues and friends who reported a similar story to you, minus some details. We have no leads, as we have already contacted the gardener who had matching alibis. The bar said she had not come in that day. We’re still recovering city footage of her traveling throughout the county.” I picked my head up to meet her eyes. My emerald eyes glisten as she asks, “why did you decide to rent out this motel room the night of September 18th?”
“Well, I couldn’t stay in the apartment knowing that something had happened. You see, today marks the anniversary of my mother’s death. She would come here often.” Detective James nodded as if she understood.
“I’m so sorry to hear about your loss. Would you all come to vacation here?”
“My mother was a hooker. She would bring male and occasionally female clients to this location.” I said nonchalantly as if I were telling a relic of an old friend. “My father abandoned us when I was freshly born and she needed some way to support me and my brother. When she couldn’t find someone to watch us she would have us sit in the parking lot. In the parked car of course. One night I came stumbling in to beg my mother to take us home as the clock was striking midnight and the car felt like an overworked camel hump to sleep on. I didn’t know what she was doing at first, she would always say business. I thought she was like a wall street business shark working men for their hard earned cash. I was partially right. I remember hearing these weird, promiscuous noises screaming through the lotus flower tapered walls. That’s my favorite part about this place.” I said drawing our attention to the decorum. “The pink flowers draped on the walls. Lotus flowers are supposed to be a symbol of purity. My innocence was extracted from me that night.” I take a hard drag on my cigarette in pain of irony. The detective stared at me in awe and pity. Before she could speak, I continued on with my story.
“Something inside of me told me to stay out, but my 7 year old brain was too curious not to open the door to see my mother getting pounded like the whore she was. The man just smiled at me and asked if I wanted a turn. I turned around and ran away. I vowed to never bring it up or let my brother know.” I shake my head reliving the trauma and seeing my last cigarette. “She was a good woman. She took care of me and my brother and made sure we had more than what we needed. Lauren kinda reminded me of her. Now they’re both angels watching over me.”
Detective James watched the flame from the lighter and then proceeded to scribble down an additional note. She had a confusing look on her face as if she was missing a piece of the puzzle.
“You know,” she says softly. “It hasn’t been confirmed that Lauren is dead. She may still be alive.”
I shrug, “I abandoned false hope long ago. Is there anything else I can help you with, Ms. James?”
She starts to gather her belongings, but pauses for a second as she spots my unzipped suitcase. I could tell the puzzle pieces in her brain were looking for the missing link. Before she can answer, I say “I’ll walk you out,” managing to produce a smile. I’m just happy to reup on Ms. Mary Menthol.
She nods with a smile to mirror mine. “That is all for today. Thank you for your time and I am sorry life has been unkind to you.” Her tone rang defeated. I’m unsure if she was more saddened by my life or the unsolved case. We shake hands and I turn to reach for the door. As my back is turned, the sly bitch kicks open my suitcase to reveal a half kilo of my delicious cocaine, a machete with dried blood painted on it, and hand written notes I had written for my sweet Lauren. The next thing I know, I turn around to a gun pointed in my direction and me being handcuffed. Just as I thought I was in the clear. The scene played like a slow motion, silent film.
You see the cops had been trailing my alias for years as I had developed an itch that only holding a dead female corpse could scratch. Fell for my act didn’t you? I was sure hoping detective James would. I played the role so well I deserve to host the next fucking emmys. You see I’m not a bad guy, just a tortured soul. I was going to marry Lauren, I really was. She discovered I had killed my mother and was horrified by my actions. She was never supposed to find out. That sweet little Sherlock went rummaging through my stuff one day innocently only to be greeted with the same murder weapon that matched the description of my mother’s murder weapon and soon to be hers. I was tormented by my own thoughts and other kids for my mother’s actions. Although her intentions were in good faith, they created a world wind of hell for me. I plotted the move since I was 16. I figured sure people could clown me for having a whore as a mother, but would they say the same if she was dead. Then that makes you a shitty person. Call my mental twisted, but you try walking in my shoes and telling me how the fuck you like those roses. I’m ritualistic in my attacks as to why I was planning on burning the evidence that night on the day of my mother’s death. I figured her soul would take care of it, but it seems as if it had a vendetta to avenge me. As for the cocaine, my only mistake was not head diving straight into the baby powder while sweet cheeks handcuffed me. I hope they sell menthols in prison...
#murdermysteries#murder mystery#short story#creative#creativestory#creativestories#drama#fiction#mystery#janet
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I feel like not a lot of people consider that whenever we see billy displaying genuine emotion in the show is whenever he's crying. I like the idea of billy letting his guard down in front of steve not being afraid to cry, even over the small things.
Oh BIG TIME! Canon!Billy is one big mask. I’m still rewatching s3 with my sis and it’s honestly so weird to be reminded of what a douche Billy is in the series :p But yes, the only time the mask slips is when he really can’t keep it on and he starts crying. I imagine it would take A Lot before he can cry in front of Steve.
[*record scratch* then I started writing something that became a scene and then there were other scenes and then it basically turned into one of those ‘x times B y’s + 1 time B z’s’ thingies. anyhow, I hope you enjoy]
~ Billy learns to cry in front of people ~
First time it happens, Billy has had a shit day. It probably had something to do with his dad said to him in a fit of anger, something that seemed insignificant at the time, but proved harder to shrug off than he initially thought. He’s irritable. All of him feels as if he’s covered in a thick slime that’s itching and oozing but impossible to scratch off.
Steve doesn’t notice that Billy is crawling out of his skin and wants to be left alone. After a while of him playfully trying to get Billy’s attention, the guy snaps. Steve’s wide eyes are enough to make Billy’s heart jump in his throat because fuck he’s doing it. He’s lashing out and it’s scared Steve and somewhere from the pit of his stomach comes a mean whisper that tells him that he’s just as bad as his dad.
He mumbles an excuse and disappears into the bathroom, locks himself up and sits down at the edge of Steve’s bathtub because of course the Harringtons have a big ass tub. As he’s trying to figure out what happened, why he’s feeling this way, he starts to cry. He didn’t know he had to, but now that he does he doesn’t want to stop. After a minute or so he swings his legs across the edge of the tub, shoes and clothes still on, chest shaking and curls up inside it. It feels better, letting the soft whines echo across the tiled walls of the otherwise deadly silent bathroom. He doesn’t know that his crying is loud enough for Steve hear their muffled sounds from across the hall.
“Billy?“ he says softly as he raps his knuckles on the door. “What’s going on? Are you okay?” Clearly he isn’t.
When Billy hears Steve’s voice he lets out a wounded wimper and shrinks even deeper into himself. No. No. Steve can’t see him like this.
Somehow he hoped that if he ignored Steve long enough that he would eventually forget that Billy was even in there and get back to whatever he was doing. But Steve doesn’t give up and it’s not doing anything for Billy’s blood pressure.
“Babe? Can you let me in?”
‘Let him in.’ Steve was asking so much more than simply taking the lock from a bathroom door.
“Go away,” Billy blubbered into his knees. A pause.
“I can’t hear you.”
Billy lifts his head, clear his throat and in the most steady voice he can manage he says:
“I wanna be alone for a bit. I’ll be back in a minute.”
“I can hear you’re upset. I don’t want you to be alone in there.“
“Steve-” Billy takes a deep breath of air that seems both too hot and too cold at the same time. “Just give me a second, yeah? I just wanna be alone.” The silence on the other side of the door draws on.
“Okay.”
After that the quiet returns. When it does, Billy finds that he doesn’t feel the need to cry anymore. Having to negotiate with Steve sort of pulled him back to earth it seemed. He still takes another 10 minutes of quiet contemplation before he gets out of the tub. Then another 5 of looking at himself in the mirror, trying to fix his hair and face to make them say anything other than ‘I just cried in your bathroom like a fucking pussy’. Because that’s what it is, he’s just too sensitive. He needs to man the fuck up.
Billy stares at his own red-rimmed eyes and thinks ‘what does he even see in you?’
It takes one last deep breath before he can finally take the lock from the door. He startles when, upon opening Steve tumbles into the bathroom and hits his head on the tiles.
“OW! FUCK!”
“Dude, what the fuck! Are you okay? Have you been here the whole time?” Steve squirms as he rubs the back of his head. His dark hair that is spawled around his head stands out starkly against the tiles.
“I kinda forgot this door opened to the inside, sorry.” His voice is quivering. Billy’s heart drops when he sees tears well up in Steve’s eyes.
“Fuck, are you okay? Are you bleeding?” Steve pulls his hand back to find that there is no blood.
“I don’t think so,“ he whimpers.
“Here, let me look.” Billy helps Steve sit up and digs his fingers through his boyfriend’s hair, reliefed to find no wound. He’ll probably get a lump but for now there’s nothing there.
“Seems you’re okay,“ Billy breathes as he pulls back and searches Steve’s face for a sign of hurt. “Are you?“ Steve takes a deep breath and wiped the wetness from his eyes.
“Yeah, should be fine.” He whispers as he rubs his hands dry on his jeans. “What about you though? Are you okay? What was that about just then?”
Billy doesn’t answer right away. He’s still registering that Steve just passed a few tears and moved on like that was nothing. He didn’t even hide it. It didn’t even seem to occur to him.
The second time is when they are watching a movie. When Steve wanted to get high and watch a Disney Movie, Billy didn’t expect it to be so sad like fuck did they really have to kill the mama deer? Couldn’t they just let them eat some fucking grass? At some point, Steve turns to Billy and asks:
“Are you crying?” Billy blinks furiously and clears his throat.
“No,” It still comes out croaky. He’s just tired and a bit woozy and emotional. Steve laugh is warm and kind. Billy finds that he doesn’t mind Steve’s snickering, especially not after the little squeeze he give to Billy’s thigh.
“It’s gonna be better from here on, I promise.” He says sweetly. And like that the moment disappears.
It still feels wrong at times. Crying is a punishment in and of itself, but in front of people is straight up torture. It’s simply not an option. To cry is to show weakness and to show weakness- well, then you die. Billy is pretty sure that’s how these things work. So whenever he is frustrated, it comes out in either rampant anger or silence. He shuts down and finds himself inable to respond to anything. It’s almost as if his body doesn’t even exist. At some point Steve learns to leave Billy alone when he gets like this. He often needs to collect his thoughts before he can even begin to think about talking through his feelings.
After a particularly rough night, Billy stands on Steve’s porch, water pouring from the sky and out of his eyes. As soon as he opens the door, Billy launces himself into Steve’s arms. And Steve catches him. He actually catches him and keeps him up on his feet. His arms fly to Billy’s drenched back and he holds him tight while Billy sobs into his shoulder.
It’s terrifying. Billy expected Steve to dissolve, to drop him, but Steve is solid and warm and he smells like home. He’s not going away. He’s here. He’s staying and he’s safe.
“Hey, tiger,” Steve whispers gently as he rubs Billy’s heaving back. “Lets get you out of the rain, yeah? Lets go inside.”
Steve gives him dry clothes and a blanket and hot chocolate that is more lukewarm than hot because he didn’t put it in the microwave for long enough but Billy still drinks it. Because Steve held him up and Steve is towell drying his hair and Steve isn’t scared of him or put off by his weakness. Steve talks to him like he would otherwise. When he senses that Billy is not in the right headspace to talk about what happened, he does the talking for him, a little monologue to give Billy’s mind something to do. Steve talks about the video store, about the girl Robin has been trying to hit on, about the kids and their shenanigans. He plays with Billy’s hair, scratching at the nape of his neck as Billy sips his drink and when he’s done, Steve takes him upstairs to a bed where he never lets Billy slip out of his hold.
Years later, at Joyce and Hopper’s wedding, Billy is asked to speech. Or rather, he insisted on giving a speech. After his own dad found out about Steve and kicked him out, the couple took him before Neil could even get Billy’s suitcase out the door. They’ve been better parents to him that his own family ever was. They saw the good in him, gave him a roof, clothes and put him through college. And above anything else, they never made him feel like he was too much to handle, moodswings and all.
Billy starts out playfully and manages to pull a few laughs from the crowd but as he gets serious, his throat closes up, a hand come to his mouth and he has to struggle not to let the dams flow over. Then suddenly there’s a hand on his lower back, the scent of a familiar cologne and a gentle whisper in his ear.
Hand still on Billy’s back, Steve takes over, speaks the words that Billy can’t get over his lips. It’s a litlle bit embarrasing, to have his boyfriend read out his deepest gratitutes to a room full of people, but Billy can feel nothing but love from the room. He can barely glance in the direction of his adoptive parents because he knows for sure that Joyce is crying and once he sees her tears he’s sure he won’t be able to keep dry.
As Steve gets to Billy’s favorite part, he takes it back over and forces the words through his narrow throat. He even manages to look the couple in the eye a few times and find that even Jim has a bit of wetness in his eye.
When he’s done, the crowd errupts into a long withheld applause as Jim and Joyce get out of their seat to embrace their son. Steve pulls Billy into his side and kisses the tears from his cheeks.
“You did good, baby.” He whispers. And Billy almost believes him.
//
This just became a little ficlet ?? idk how that happened. I don’t know if this was something you wanted but thanks for the ask! I’m usually not the person people come to for headcanons but this was fun! keep em coming!
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1988 interview with Dean. This is a really good one and helps bring more of his life into perspective. Note: the newspaper originally censored his swearing, but I’ve put it back.
Guthman, Edward. "Dean Stockwell: Third Time's a Charm." The San Francisco Examiner (San Francisco, California), August 14, 1988.
“Six years ago, Dean Stockwell's acting career had turned to dust. Reduced to playing parts in unreleasable, made-in-Mexico movies that now make him cringe, Stockwell decided to chuck it all and get out of Hollywood.
“Along with his second wife, Joy, Stockwell moved to Santa Fe, settled down under the wide New Mexico sky and applied for a real estate license. He even placed an ad in Daily Variety to announce his exile: 'Dean Stockwell will help you with all your real estate needs in the new center of creative energy.'
“Stockwell never sold a house; he didn't need to. Instead, almost as soon as he'd relocated, things started happening to the former 1940s child star. It began with a small part in David Lynch's 'Dune,' and escalated with an important supporting role in Wim Wenders' highly regarded 'Paris, Texas.'
“Moving back to California to cash in on his fortune, Stockwell acted in 'Beverly Hills Cop II,' 'Gardens of Stone,' and 'To Live and Die in L.A.' He also played a cameo role, as Howard Hughes, in the newly released 'Tucker: The Man and His Dream.' And in 'Blue Velvet,' David Lynch's American nightmare, he delivered a chilling cameo as Ben, a waxlike, sexually ambiguous drug dealer.
“And now, at 52, Stockwell says he's found 'the favorite role I've had, by far.'
“The picture is 'Married to the Mob,' a dark, romantic comedy by Jonathan Demme ('Melvin and Howard,' 'Stop Making Sense') and Stockwell plays Mafia don Tony 'the Tiger' Russo. Wearing an Al Capone fedora and full-length vicuna coat, Tony is a rich, sardonic, larger-than-life character -- the kind Stockwell has never had a chance to play until now.
“Opening Friday at the Galaxy and UA the Movies, 'Married to the Mob' has been touted as Demme's first shot at a genuine box-office winner. Set in Long Island, New Jersey and Florida, it stars Michelle Pfeiffer as Angela DeMarco, a young Mafia wife who tries to start a new life when her husband, Frankie 'the Cucumber' DeMarco, is pumped full of lead during a hot-tub tryst at the Fantasia Motel.
“When Stockwell's character isn't ordering hits, drug deals and the dumping of toxic waste, he's lusting assiduously after the gorgeous widow. Meanwhile, bumbling FBI agent Mike Downey (played by Matthew Modine) is jumping through hoops trying to shadow Angela and 'catch Tony with his pants down.' Instead, he falls in love with Angela.
“During a recent luncheon interview, not far from his central California home, Stockwell spoke about the film, about his new happiness as the father of two children and about the bizarre trajectory of his long career. Dressed in a long-sleeved shirt and slacks, wearing a Panama hat and drawing first on a cigaret, later on a cigar, Stockwell emanates prosperity and calm.
“'I don't know why I was unemployed so long,' he says, reflecting on a fallow period that started in the '60s and lasted the better part of two decades. 'The only thing I can figure out in my own mind is that, for some reason or another, I was being made to wait until a certain time in my life when my talent would reach its full maturity and fruition.'
“Ironically, he says, he felt just as equipped 10 years ago to do the work he's doing now -- 'only I couldn't get fucking arrested.'
“Today, Stockwell sees harmony in the fact that his new success coincides with the arrival of two children. His son, Austin, will be 5 in November, and his daughter, Sophia, turns 3 this month. Inordinately proud and protective, he refuses to allow his children to be photographed, and also requests that the town in which he and his family reside not be named. (There were no children from his first marriage, to Millie Perkins, which lasted from 1960 to 1962.)
“'I want to make a lot of money and I want to put it away for my children,' he says. To that end, Stockwell has been snapping up job offers. 'A lot of people ask me, "How have you been able to choose these wonderful things you're doing? Have you been very selective?" And I have to tell them, "I haven't been choosing what I'm doing." Things have been coming and I've been accepting virtually anything that's come.'
“Stockwell's ambition is so great that, for the first time in his life, he actively pursues aspects of his career that he once shunned- interviews, for example.
“'My entire motivation in life is my family,' he says. 'I don't need to get an award. I don't need recognition. I've had that already. What I need is to provide. The best way I can provide is to be successful, and the best way I can be successful is to take advantage of all the things at my disposal to achieve that, one of which certainly is press.'
“Take a look at the young Stockwell, specifically the version that emerges from old magazine and newspaper interviews, and you meet another person altogether.
“Robbed of a normal childhood, Stockwell had made 22 films by the time he was 15 -- including 'The Boy with Green Hair,' 'Kim,' 'Anchors Aweigh,' and the Oscar-winning 'Gentleman's Agreement.' Working nonstop, he had a privileged life that millions of children probably envied, but he loathed it nonetheless.
“The son of show-business parents -- his father, Harry Stockwell, was the voice of the Prince in 'Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,' and his mother, Betty Veronica, was a former stage dancer -- Stockwell made his professional debut at 7. It all happened by a fluke: when Stockwell accompanied his older brother, Guy, on a Broadway audition, the casting director took a liking to both boys, and cast each one. The play, aptly enough, was called 'Innocent Voyage,' and it led to an MGM contract for curly-haired Dean.
“From the beginning, the pressure on young Stockwell was intense. His parents had divorced when he was 6, and when his father defaulted on child-support payments, Dean reluctantly became the family provider. Over a six-year period, he averaged three to four films per year.
“At home, he says, 'There was a lot of friction... I was getting all the attention, but I hated it. [Guy] couldn't appreciate that, because he wasn't getting the attention. He had all these friends, his peer group, that he took for granted. I had none and I resented him for being able to live that way. I was fucking lonely.'
“When he was 13, chained to a seven-year contract, Stockwell was described by one magazine as 'a young rebel who despises acting and resents every moment it takes from his fleeting boyhood.' Many years later, Stockwell told columnist Hedda Hopper, 'Child actors exist in a sort of limbo between childhood and maturity and belong to neither. Adults take them too seriously and other children are either awed or hostile. A child actor can find friends in neither group.'
“Finally, Stockwell fled Hollywood when he was 16. He cut off his curly locks, started using his real name, Robert Stockwell, and for the next five years roamed the country, working menial jobs and disavowing his true identity. 'People that might have known me from seeing my films knew me as a young child,' he remembers. 'Now I was 17 and I wasn't that recognizable.'
“Around the time of his 21st birthday, Stockwell was pushing papers as mail boy to a Manhattan plumbing firm. 'Of all the jobs that I'd had in those intervening years,' he remembers. 'I think I hated that worse than anything. I came to the realization I had no training at anything. My primary education was very skimpy, very poor, and happened under the worst type of conditions. I was literally at the mercy of the world.'
“Most of Stockwell's childhood earnings were squandered by crooked accountants, he says, and he knew that the tiny sum being held in a trust wouldn't last forever. 'So I thought, "What am I gonna do? Well, let's go back and attack this [acting career] again, and see if I can do it a little more on my terms."'
“What followed for Stockwell was a brief but impressive 'second career.' He starred in the 1959 film 'Compulsion,' based on the Leopold-Loeb case of the '20s, and won a joint acting award with Orson Welles and Bradford Dillman at the Cannes Film Festival. He played the lead in the 1960 film of D. H. Lawrence's 'Sons and Lovers,' and in 1962 scored the plum role of Edmund Tyrone in Sidney Lumet's film version of 'Long Day's Journey Into Night,' holding his own alongside Katharine Hepburn, Ralph Richardson and Jason Robards.
“Stockwell was winning the best parts, but found his attention drifting elsewhere. What was happening, he says, were the first signs of the '60s youth revolution. 'It captured my imagination as much as anybody's. And it represented to me -- I can see this in retrospect -- something in childhood that I had missed: the freedom and loving being alive, without responsibilities and work and having to report to the studio every day, and deal with fans and interviews and shit that I hated when I was a kid.'
“So Stockwell called his agent, said, 'I'm not workin',' and dropped out once again. When he tried to come back three years later, though, 'I found it very difficult, 'cause I'd been out-of-sight, out-of-mind.' What followed was a long period of marginal employment: He found some TV work, took parts in low-budget trash ('The Dunwich Horror') and occasional oddities (Dennis Hopper's 'The Last Movie') and co-directed a film with musician Neil Young ('Human Highway') but often just didn't work at all. At one point, he went 18 months without a job.
“Today, along with his buddy Hopper, Stockwell is enjoying a major career renaissance. And with his starring role in 'Married to the Mob,' he says, he's never felt more confident.
“'I knew before I started the film that this character was going to work in spades,' he says, adding that Demme, as director, deserves credit for taking a risk with such offbeat casting. Instead of picking Peter Falk, Vincent Gardenia or another ethnically identified actor to play the Mafia don, he went with Stockwell (who is actually half-Italian on his mother's side).
“Demme's inspiration occurred on a flight from Los Angeles to New York, when he opened a copy of the Hollywood Reporter. Stockwell had just changed agents, and in order to announce the fact, had taken out a full-page ad. Demme saw the picture, and instantly recognized his Tony.
“Weirdly enough, Stockwell made another film immediately prior to 'Married to the Mob': a Canadian feature called 'Palais Royale,' due for an October release, in which he plays a character almost identical to Tony Russo.
“'It's very curious,' he says. 'For all my years I'd never had a role like this come my way, and here it was twice. The Mafia don in New York, the Mafia don in Toronto, both of them colorful and charming and also threatening. And I just thought, "What am I gonna do? It's the same character." So I decided to do the same character in both those movies.'
“To take the coincidence 'one nauseating step further,' Stockwell says he's also got a part in the recently completed 'Backtrack,' Hopper's next film. This time he plays a corrupt mob lawyer, dropping the Italian accent for a generalized East Coast sound.
“It would be difficult to find a film actor who's busier than Stockwell at this moment. And it would be difficult to find anyone whose job history better illustrates the vicissitudes, serendipities and insecurity of a Hollywood career.
“Looking back on his misfortunes -- at the career that he was forced to accept as a child, and the humiliation he felt when he couldn't maintain it as an adult -- Stockwell says he's not bitter. 'When you reach your maturity, I think it behooves you to accept the fact that it's absolutely futile and fruitless even to speculate on changing anything in your life. All you can do is get embittered. So I accept everything that's happened as part of my life, and try to push it in a positive direction from the moment right now.'”
#dean stockwell#article#i hear the kid who had plans to get a ranch again in this article :)#i've also been trying to reconcile his working in NYC when he was 21 with what parts he had around then#i think he tried acting again at 19/20#hated it#got out went to NYC worked that job also hated it#so he went back to acting#then Compulsion helped him accept acting more
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Lover Boy - JJ Maybank x OC - Part Twelve - Spring Break Forever
Word Count: 3.7K
Summary: The Pogues spend Spring break in Miami Beach
Warnings: Light smut, cursing, pranks, drugs, alcohol, tattoos and piercings?
A/N: Sorry I haven't posted in a few days. I was camping this weekend with my family, which went downhill. Sorry if this one feels a little rushed. I hope you guys like it! (Not my GIF. Credits to the owner. I don’t own any of the shows or characters.)
Lover Boy Series Masterlist
I’ve been to many places on vacation. Malibu, Las Vegas, San Francisco, Houston, Manhattan, Philadelphia, Chicago, Boston, Seattle, Orlando, Los Angeles and more. All of those were with my family for business, but I never had much fun. This time though, I’m going to Miami with the coolest people on the fucking planet.
The road trip has consisted in us playing card games in the back, switching drivers, telling stories, and stopping to eat at diners. As of now, we’re on 95 in Florida, not too far from our destination. JJ’s head lays on my chest, fast asleep, while I hold him and stroke his hair, listening to his adorable soft snores. If I ever started shifting, he’d hug me tighter, snuggling into my breast.
“He’s such a big softie for you.” Kie chuckles, along with the rest of the pogues. I glance to see Kie doodling on her leg with a marker. That’s when a great idea popped in my head.
“Hey Kie, how good are you at drawing penises?” I asked oh so casually. Everyone laughs and gives me a questioning look. “Can’t be that hard. Why do you ask?” I smirk and look at JJ. “I just thought it was time I’d get JJ back for all of his pranks. JJ was the ultimate prankster in our group. Now he gets a taste of his own medicine.
We arrive at the hotel parking lot. Thankfully, Sarah was easily able to convince her dad to let her book a reservation in one of the suites for Spring break. The pogues get out to stretch. I’m still trapped under JJ.
“Hey baby. Wake up. We’re here.” I nudge him. He just groans. “Finally, I thought that was never going to end.” He said groggy. I couldn’t stop a giggle slip past my lips when he lifted his head up, giving me a full view of the penis shooting cum on his head. He’s going to fucking kill me.
“What?” He asked confused as he got his duffel bag. I get a hold of myself for a moment. “Nothing. I just love you so much babe.” I wrap my arms around his neck before pecking his lips giggling. “How much of my weed did you smoke?” He asked. “None. I’m just so happy.” The pogues are having difficulty holding in their laughter, JJ just stands there clueless. “I swear to god if you guys smoked all my weed.” He mutters before walking up to the entrance. Everyone he passed by, gave him weird looks while some laughed. Sarah and John B go to the front desk to check us in, while we sit in the lobby.
That’s when JJ got super touchy feely with me. It first started off with him grabbing my thigh. Then it went to wrapping his arm around me. Normally, I wouldn’t find this odd, but it kind of felt almost territorial, especially when he kissed me hard. I finally pull away after needing air.
“What is up with you?” I asked. “That guy over there keeps fucking staring at you.” He grumbles. I just laugh, knowing I wasn’t the one he was staring at. “Don’t worry tiger. I’m all yours.” I play with hair. The pogues couldn’t hold their laughter in anymore, they start laughing hard, tears falling. I couldn’t help but join. “What the fuck is so funny??” JJ scabs the lobby.
“I don’t know.” Is all I was able to say. Before he could say anything, Sarah holds up the room key. We all make our way to the elevator, hand in hand with JJ. We squeeze in with a dad and his kid. The dad immediately notices the dick on JJ’s head and just chuckles. The son, who must’ve been like seven, couldn’t stop staring at JJ’s head. JJ notices this and takes a step away, a little creeped out.
“Hey mister, why’s there a peepee on your head?” The boy asked with the most serious face. Pope chokes on his water laughing along with the dad.
“What??” JJ asked looking at the kid puzzled. “There’s a peepee on your head!” JJ’s widen. He snatches my phone and pulls up the camera. He finally sees the dick on his head. Everyone starts bursting out laughing.
“You guys are so stupid.” He tries rubbing it off, surprisingly not cursing, sparing the child. JJ whispers into my ear, “You’re in for it now babygirl. Daddy’s gonna punish you tonight.” I only smirk, looking forward for tonight.
Next Morning;)
I groan as I toss and turn, looking for a certain someone in the empty bed. How dare my personal body pillow leave me. I look up to see JJ in the bathroom brushing his teeth. I admire his shirtless figure. God he’s so handsome. He catches my staring eyes, smirking. “Sleep good babygirl?” He asked closing the door and taking a hit from his vape. “Mm. C’mere.” I demand, arms open wide. He crawls on top of me. He kisses me softly, tongue slipping in. I let my hands roam his body. “You were a little rough with me last night daddy.” I say in such an innocent little voice, pouting. “Aw, did daddy beat your pretty little pussy up too much? Maybe you should’ve been a good girl yesterday and I wouldn’t have to punish you.” He plays along. “I just wanted to have some fun.” I say innocently. “Well, if you’re a good girl today, I’ll make sure to reward you. You gonna be a good girl for daddy?” His fingers trace my lips. “Yes, daddy.” I whispered. He leans down, our lips barely touching mine. “That’s my babygirl.” His lips finally attach to mine. I softly moan into the kiss. “Baby, I want you.” I whine. “I know you do babygirl. I’ll take good care of you. I promise. Just be a good girl for me.” He peppers kisses on my neck before the door swings open startling the two of us. Charging in are the Pogues, who pile on the two of us, ignoring our pleads and screams.
“Get your swimsuits on ya’ll. We’re going to the beach!” Sarah tickles me, making me erupt in laughter. “We would if you guys weren’t crushing us!” JJ wheezed. “Woogity, woogity!” Pope runs out of the room excited. JJ and I quickly get changed into our swimsuits and clothes. I walk out to see the boys ready with their trunks, tops, sunglasses and hats. The girls were both rocking their vibrant bikinis. Kie wore her favorite bright purple bikini, while Sarah wore her a hot pink, and I was wearing my royal blue, one of JJ’s favorites. The six of us make our way out of the hotel and into the beating sun.
The beach was insanely crowded with spring breakers. Many of them were already roaring drunk and high, having the time of their lives. We waste no time to join in on the fun. Drinks in hand, dancing to the music blasting from the speakers. We easily fit in with the wild crowd. I loved the feeling of being so carefree, not having to worry about anything from back home. As of now, we’re in the moment. We’re young and in love. We’re chasing thrills, always on an adventure. Whether that’s us chasing each other around like kids, chugging down a beer, splashing each other in the water, starting tickle fights, and more. We let our youth get the best of us.
We didn’t watch the day pass by as we partied on. We were all high as shit on our way back to the hotel room, and we apparently all had the munchies. John B held the phone as we all sat in the living room of the hotel suite watching cartoons and jumping on the beds, being chaotic. “What the fuck do you guys want?” He asked as we sat their clueless as to what we want to eat. “Food!” JJ answered, earning an eye roll from his best friend.
“Okay, can I get six cheeseburgers, six milkshakes, two of each flavor, a lot of fries, and by a lot, I mean like a big bucket of it, and do you guys have any Cheez-Its?” We all looked at him, feeling sorry for the chefs. “Downstairs? Okay. Ooh! You guys have cheesecake? Can we get? What flavor? Um, all of them! Why not.” Sweet baby Jesus, John B. “Thank you!” He hangs up. “Foods on the way. Can someone come with me downstairs? I need Cheez-Its.” Nobody volunteers, not even Sarah, so I raise my hand, cause why not? “Cool beans. We’ll be back in a second.” John B hollers before slamming the door. “Get me some fruit snacks!” Pope shouts desperately. “You got it dude!” We give him a thumbs up.
“So, what’s with you and Cheez-Its?” I asked curiously. “They’re awesome. I love them like you love choking on tapioca pearls.” He smirks. “What the hell?! How do you know about that?” I asked shocked. “Sarah sent us that video of you choking the pearls after seeing JJ. You must have it really bad for him huh?” He dies laughing. I’m going to kill Sarah. “In my defense, I didn’t even know he was at my place, and those tapioca pearls are dangerous. They should have a warning label.” I shrug my shoulders. “Aw, don’t worry. JJ’s got it pretty bad for you too.” “Oh? How so?” I asked interested.
“Ever since we found out about you guys, he’s been talking nonstop about you. He’s like ‘John b she’s so pretty, oh my god she’s amazing, you wouldn’t believe what she said to me today.’ I’ve never seen that boy blush so much in his entire life. He’s crazy about you.” I couldn’t help but smile thinking about JJ. “I’m really glad he’s with you though. Seriously, for a while I thought he’d never just settle down with one person. He was either having meaningless hookups or getting his heartbroken by bitchy girls.” This made me frown. I hate the idea of seeing him heartbroken. Knowing that he’s hooked up with many girls in the past, never seemed to bother me though.
“What made him want to be in a relationship with me?” I asked curiously. I wonder what would've happened if that was just a meaningless hookup. I probably wouldn't be here in Florida today.
“I asked him the same question. At first, he was amazed by how beautiful you were. He started falling for you harder, when guys hung out more. He said he knew he loved you the day you told him that heaven is a place where you’d see him. No one has ever told him that before. You made his heart melt that night.” I smile at the fond memory on the balcony.
“He really love you. You know that right?” John B scanned my eyes. “I know. I love him too. He’s gotta be the best thing that has ever happened to me. I can’t imagine my life without him. I haven't even known him for a year yet, and I already know I want to spend the rest of my life with. My dad says I'm too young to love him, that they're just stupid feeling, but I know he’s wrong. I’ve told JJ more about myself than I’ve told my best friends. That’s how much I trust him. I’ve never been so close and intimate with someone before.” I ramble on, JJ clouding my mind. JB smiles down on me, approving my answer.
“I know what you mean. JJ and I have been best friends since the third grade. I just know that we’ll always be tight, even after high school, and we become adults. Our bond is too strong to break. Just like you and JJ’s love is unstoppable.” He smiles. “It’s JJ’s loyalty that makes relationships with him so promising.” I say and we both nod in agreement. “I’m glad you're a part of this group Aria. Welcome to the family.” He holds out his fist. I gladly return it. “I’m glad to be a part of it.” I smile as the two of return to the suite.
We all chowed down on the shitload of food delivered to us. I don’t even want to know what the room service bill is going to look like. All of us sit in a circle as we play truth or dare. I just got finished my dare, slurping down my vanilla milkshake, earning me a terrible brain freeze. “Whoo!” I shout. “Alright Aria, your turn to pick someone.” Pope says. “Okay, JJ! Truth or dare?” I asked. “Dare.” He challenged me. “No! You’ve picked dare five times already! Truth!” Kie shouted.
“Fine! Truth!” JJ puts his hand up in defeat. I think long and hard for a moment, until the perfect question popped in my head. “What is your full name?” It just occurred to me that I have never heard of is full name. Everyone just calls him JJ. “Nope!” He refused to answer the question. “Oh, come on! You have to answer! It can't be that bad! Is it Jack? Jonas? Jayden? Johnny? Jeff?” I guess. “Nope! Different question.” He still refused to answer. I huff before an idea popped in my head. His driver’s license! I don’t hesitate to run to his wallet. He follows closely behind, already knowing what I'm up to.
I quickly snatch the wallet off the counter, he tries to swipe it out of my hand. I frantically open it up to find the license, where his name is beautiful printed. Jesse Jacob Maybank. “Aw, babe that’s such a nice name! I love it! You definitely look like a Jesse and a Jacob.” I smile at his embarrassed face. “You're in for it now.” He chases me around the suite. Everyone gets up in excitement.
“Throw her in the pool!” Pope suggests. JJ’s, or should I say Jesse Jacob’s, ears perk up at the suggestion. “No! No! I swear to god JJ if you throw me in that pool!” I continue to run away from him. Everyone was blocking the bed and bathrooms, so I run out the suite and into the halls, JJ not too far behind. He finally catches up to me, grabbing waist and lifting me up. I squirm and squeal as he carries me down the hall, the Pogues laughing and encouraging him to throw me in.
We had to sneak our way in, since it was past ten, so no one was around. “No! Please! I’m sorry! No!” He launches the two of us into the cool water. Thank goodness we’re still in our swimwear. I resurface and find my friends laughing. “You jerk.” I splash him. “But I'm your jerk.” He pulls me close and plants a kiss on my lips. Our friends groan before splashing us. “The last thing we need is for you guys to be banging in the pool.” Says Kie. A devilish smile appears on my face when I see Pope and John B sneaking up behind their clueless girlfriends before pushing them into the water. We all let out a chain of laughs as we continue to screw around in the pool.
I sit on the steps with the girls, smoking some weed, as the boys play around in the deep end. We stare at the smoke combine with the beautiful night sky. “I never want to leave.” I say, gaining the girls attention. “I know. We should all live together in this big house on the beach. Every night could be a sleepover.” Says Kie. “I just don’t want to go back home.” Says Sarah. “Me either. I don’t even want to know what my father has to say.” I huff. He's probably livid as we speak. The whole neighborhood is probably gossiping.
“Have you talked to him yet?” Asked Kie. “Hell no. I think I might crash out in JJ’s room at the chateau for a bit when we get back. I really don’t feel like dealing with my dad.” “He’ll come around eventually. He just needs some time. Plus, your mom is the voice of reason. He just needs to get to know JJ. Everything will work out just fine.” Sarah reassures me. “I hope so.” I say looking at my prune fingers. “We should probably head in and shower.” I suggest. Me and the girls get out of the pool. The boys said they’ll come up later.
We all shower off and get dressed, before snuggling together under the blankets and put on ‘Mean Girls’. “I remember when you guys were fighting like crazy back then.” I chuckle to myself. These two were ruthless. Kie sighs. “It’s a good thing we got our shit worked out though.” Sarah chuckles. “Tell me about it.” “I love you guys, you know that right?” I asked. The two just looked at me with heart eyes. “We know.” Says Kie. “Just promise me that none of us will split up again. No matter how bad the fight is, please don’t go separate ways. It was hard seeing my best friends hating each other for so long.” I confess. “We promise. We’re not going anywhere splinter bean. What brought this on?” Sarah asked concerned.
“Nothing, I’m just scared, that we’ll split up after school. It’s senior year, and I don’t want us to drift apart. Some things just don’t last forever you know?” I asked. Kie strokes my hair. “Don’t worry. You're stuck with us to the end, because we love you too much to let you go.” I smile as I snuggle closer to the girls. The front door opens, the boys come bustling in. JJ’s eyebrow cocks up.
“Ooh, some girl on girl action. I don’t know if I should be happy or jealous.” JJ smirks, and we all just roll our eyes before Kie says. “You're such a perv.” JJ and the boys all land on top of us. I don’t know how we managed to fit on the bed together. At least we don’t have to worry about being cold.
The past few days have been fun exploring Miami Beach, trying a bunch of foods, partying all day, and such. I have no idea how we ended up in a tattoo parlor though. Kie had insisted on getting herself a new dolphin tattoo. I scanned the tattoo book, tempted to get something. I just finished getting my belly button pierced, which JJ doesn't know about yet. Him and the boys are off somewhere else, since we wanted to have a girl’s night out.
“What are you getting?” Asked Sarah. “Don't know yet. I think I want something meaningful though. I just don’t know what yet.” I continue to browse. I then see this nice font, which gives me an idea. “Can I ask you something?” I looked at Sarah. “What’s up?” She asked. “Would it be crazy if I got a name tattoo?” I asked warily. Her eyes widen. “Oh, like a certain someone's name?” She smirked. I just nod happily. “I think I know what I want...”
I lay down on the bed, naked underneath my robe, waiting anxiously for JJ to return. My eyes never leave my wrist. Inked on my once innocent skin, is printed, ‘JJ’. I’m a little nervous as to how he’ll react. We have the place to ourselves, finally, and I’m planning on making the beast out of it. The door opens, making me jump. I look up to see a surprised JJ, as his eyes roam my body. “Well, this is a pleasant surprise.” He says pleased with me wearing nothing but a silk robe, which he’ll definitely rip off me.
“That’s not the only surprise I have for you.” I say. “Oh? And what would that be?” He crawls next to me. “Well, for starters I got this.” I open up the robe, revealing my belly button piercing. He bites his lip. “That’s so fucking hot babygirl.” He says, ready to lunge at me. “Ah ah. There's also this.” I extend my arm, showing off the tattoo. His eyes bulge at the ink. The silence scares me for a moment. “Baby, I don’t know what to say.” He was speechless. “Do you like it?” I asked hesitantly. “I love it! I’m flattered. It’s just a lot to take in. Plus, I kind of have a surprise for you too.” He takes off his shirt to reveal something that nearly made pass the fuck out. On his naked chest, I see my name, Aria, forever inked on his beautiful skin. Tears well in my eyes.
“Oh. My. God. Are you serious? When did you get that?” I asked, my hand tempted to touch the ink. “Today, looks like great minds think alike.” He chuckles. The two of us sit there in silence, processing our thoughts. Neither of us could believe that we had our names forever printed together on our bodies. I just smile and gleam before grabbing his face and littering it in kisses. He giggles. “I love you JJ. Always and forever.” “I love you too Aria. God, I love you so much. You’re the only one for me.” He declares as I begin to unbuckle his belt, his shorts pool around his feet. I let the robe slip off my body, the cool air bites at my skin.
For the rest of the night, we dived deep into a pool of love and pleasure. We whispered sweet nothings into each other's ears as we made love. We didn't hold back our moans. His name left my lips like a prayer. Our breaths mixed together when he kissed me. I love you can be heard throughout the bedroom. He marked me when he filled me up completely with his seed. We have each other. Always and forever.
Always and forever will I remember this trip, as I stand alongside my family and lover, watching the sunset one last time in Miami before we hit the road. I can’t help but smile as I gazed at these amazing people. We jump in the van, leaving behind the words ‘Pogues 4 Life’ in the sand.
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Stranger I
⋆ gif is mine
Pairing: Yang Hongwon x Reader
Genre: Underground rapper!Hongwon, Barista!Reader | angst, fluff
Word Count: 6.5k
Summary: Don’t get attached. This was his number one rule. Attachment means getting hurt. Attachment means vulnerability. You are the only person you can trust. So how could she so easily sneak past and break the walls he had worked so hard to build around his heart when all she is, is a stranger?
Warnings: some cussing, underage drinking, mentions of sex
A/N: Please note that there will probably be more mentions of mature content in the future. Do also keep in mind that this is all fictional, and Hongwon is a grown ass man so if you cannot come to terms with that then this fic is not for you!
You stood at the foot of the apartment; your hand still in its grip on the knob. A pair of glossy red high heels sit prettily at the entrance; right next to your boyfriend’s white Nike Air Jordan 1’s.
There was no way right? Surely this wasn’t what you thought it was.
You hesitantly walk into the apartment, careful not to make any noise. There is no one in the kitchen or in the living room. Your heart booms loudly in your chest. It’s 6pm. Why is he even home? He’s usually out of work by 8pm so it’s a bit early for him to be home…Maybe his sister came over?
Relax, Y/N. Stop overreacting.
Oh but wrong you are and overreacting you are not. As you draw closer, you notice the bedroom door has been left ajar. His naked back is to you, his body caging a girl beneath him, her long curly hair sticking to her face. The bedsheets cover them, but you don’t need to imagine what is going on underneath them. His back muscles flex as he pounds into her. For a moment you’re frozen, all you can see and hear is the way she screams out in pleasure, her nails clawing into his back. You back away, not wanting to see anymore than you have, but finding yourself unable to look away. And then, because the universe hates you, the floorboards creak underneath you.
The girl snaps her eyes open to you and gasps, holding onto your boyfriend to cover herself, “oh my god!”
“What?” Jaewon eyes widen when he turns back and sees you standing through the crack of the door. Your legs hit the back of the couch before you snap out of it and decide to make a run for it.
Shit. Shit, shit, shit.
You hastily grab your bag off the floor, tripping over your own feet, wanting nothing more than to get the fuck out of there. You hear a voice ask faintly in the background, “you know her?” You squeeze your eyes and try to block them out, not wanting to hear his answer. You’re about to leave when you turn to see Jaewon shirtless and buckling his pants in a hurry to get to you. “Y/N, wait—”
And then you’re gone.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“You know, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were upset.” Hoon says, filling your glass for the fourth time now. You chuckle humorlessly, “Oh yeah? No shit?” You chug half of your drink, Hoon’s stare piercing through the side of your head. “Alright easy now, tiger. What’s got you getting all shitfaced within 10 minutes of you getting here? I’m on the clock you know, I can’t exactly babysit right now.”
“I’m not a baby,” you huff. “And I’m not even drunk yet you asshole.”
“Uh huh,” he rests his cheek on his hand, staring at you expectantly. “You can’t fool me kid, I’ve known you since you were just a little brat. No one goes and gets drunk all alone at this time of night for the shits and giggles.”
You’re huff quietly, stubbornly trying to pretend nothing is wrong but alas, you were never a good liar. “He cheated on me,” you say, your grip on the glass tightening. “What?”
“He cheated on me, Hoon. Jaewon cheated on me,” you finally look at him, tears starting to prick your eyes. Honestly, you were shocked you had lasted this long without crying your eyes out. When you left the apartment you still hadn’t fully processed what you had seen. But now that you sat here in front of Hoon, reality was sitting heavy on your heart.
You have plenty more drinks after that, drunkenly relaying all the details to your friend, coming to terms for the first time that night that your boyfriend of 2 years cheated on you. Eventually, after trying to soothe and calm you down but to no avail, Hoon decides to call your roommate. He loves you and really wishes he could comfort you, but he had already spent quite some time talking to you and his boss was starting to give him stank faces. Also, he was pretty sure anyone within a 5 mile radius had overheard your emotional breakdown with how loud you were being. You’d thank him later.
“Please come get her. My boss will chew my ass out if I don’t get back to work soon. Plus I’ve got her snot all over my shirt and it’s kind of fuckin’ disgusting.”
“Shit, it’s that bad? I’ll be there in 10 minutes.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
“A-A-And then h-he—aghhhhhhunghh,” you bawl into Hyeri’s coat as she struggles to help you out of the passenger seat of her car. Hyeri loves you. She really does. But she was two seconds away from leaving your ass on the sidewalk with how difficult you were being. “HE SAID HE LUHEED MEE!! HE’S UH LIAR!!!”
“Okay okay, I know honey. He’s a fucking asshole but you need to stop yelling before someone calls the cops on us for a kidnapping, okay?”
You sniff loudly and nod your head at her. “I swear I’m going fucking kill him. Don’t you worry, sweetie he’s not going to get away with this.”
After much tripping and fumbling she manages to haul you to your shared apartment. She sits you on the couch and hands you a water bottle. “I need you to drink this okay? All of it.”
You pout, “don’t wanna.”
“Y/N,” she warns.
“…”
She glares at you, her stare unwavering.
“Fine,” you grab the bottle from her and chug it.
“Thank you,” she smiles at you. “Let’s get you to bed. We can talk about it tomorrow when you’re feeling better okay?”
And you do. The following day you tell her in detail how you walked in on his two timing. You’re embarrassed, to say the least. Embarrassed that you didn’t notice anything was wrong. Embarrassed that you allowed yourself to be made a fool out of. In truth, if someone had asked if you thought Jaewon would ever cheat on you, you would have wholeheartedly said no. Your relationship with Jaewon was perfect. Or at least you had thought it was. He was such a loving boyfriend, a guy who never failed to make sure you felt treasured. He worshipped you body, took you out on nice dates, always told you how pretty you are. You thought he was the perfect guy, but had you just been so blind to the attention he gave you that you didn’t notice when his eyes strayed?
How skilled was he at this game that you had not even dared to think he would cheat on you? For two years he had you wrapped around his finger. You were an idiot for letting him play you like that.
The weekend drags on with you cooped up in your bedroom for the entirety of it. Luckily you had the weekend off to cry to your heart’s content with a tub of ice cream in your lap. You were thankful for Hyeri, always there to comfort you and feed you your favorite foods. Of course she had her own colorful words to say about your ex boyfriend, swearing she’d cut his balls off herself the next time they crossed paths.
Speaking of balls, he sure had a pair on him. (figuratively, not literally, he wasn’t that impressive) He was actually trying to apologize through text.
Jae ♥♥♥: can we talk please? [7:58 PM]
Jae ♥♥♥: i wasn’t in my right mind please believe me [9:58 PM]
Jae ♥♥♥: just let me explain [8:02 PM]
Jae ♥♥♥: baby please [8:17 PM]
You leave his ass on read.
Jae ♥♥♥: Talk to me [11:37 PM]
Jae ♥♥♥: I know you’re reading these [11:45 PM]
Jae ♥♥♥: Y/N? Baby please. [11:57 PM]
Hyeri sits at the foot of your bed, painting her toenails. “He won’t stop texting me.” You watch your phone as texts come in one after another, tears long dried on your cheeks. She snaps her head up, nail polish brush between her fingers in the air, “don’t you fucking dare.”
You sigh, “what if—”
“Y/N, please don’t tell me you’re even considering forgiving him.”
“Oh god no! I just…it’s hard. He’s a fucking pig for cheating on me…but my heart can’t help it. I spent two years of my life with him, Hyeri. He’s the longest relationship I’ve had. This probably sounds stupid, but I really thought he was the one.” You sniff and roll over on your bed, sinking deep into your pillows.
“It’s not stupid, honey. Anyone else in your shoes would feel the same way. But you don’t deserve that shit. Any guy stupid enough to even stray their eyes from someone as goregous and smart as you for their girlfriend, has some real fuckin’ issues. But he did what he did, and let me tell you sweetheart, that shit will not be flying with me. He’d better hope we don’t even get within a 10 mile radius of each other cause so help me those will be his last living moments.”
You grunt a response.
“Stop pouting. If I didn’t have wet toes right now, I’d be engulfing you in a koala hug but just wait til these bad boys dry.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The beginning of your shift at the cafe goes by quickly. It’s a monday so the early morning rush keeps you busy for a while. After the rush of people in need of their daily dose of caffeine before work and school, only a couple of patrons remain in the shop. The small break allows you to clear up tables and replace empty bottles and containers on the shelves while it’s slow.
Jaewon continued to bombard your phone with texts over the weekend in hopes that you would give in and talk things over with him. You wanted to block him, but a small part of you also enjoyed the little power you had over him when you read his desperate messages only to leave him with silence. You have seen plenty of shitty relationships where people stay even when they get cheated on but you’re smart enough to recognize a toxic relationship when you see one. Forgiving someone after they are unfaithful just seems impossible to you. If they cheat once, they could certainly do it again. Call you a dumb bitch for not seeing the signs earlier but you’re not stupid enough to do that to yourself.
You chastise yourself for letting your thoughts wander to him again and finish wiping down the last table. The ding of the bell at the front entrance signals the entrance of a new customer, and you call out instinctively, “Welcome! I’ll be there in just a moment!” Let me catch my breath for a second, will you universe? You grumble inwardly. You quickly grab the rag you were using and make your way to the kitchen. You toss it into a bin in the back and greet them at the front counter.
“Good morning,” you say in your best work voice, only briefly acknowledging the customer’s presence, “What can I get for you today?”
To be honest you only half-assedly spoke, contrary to the sickly sweet voice you were using. You were hoping to quickly get through this order so you could go back to moping quietly at the back of the cafe. You keep your gaze on the register’s screen, ready to punch in whatever drink this guy wanted.
“Mornin.”
The deep timbre of his voice slightly startles you and you try to not make it obvious in the way you snap your eyes up to get a peek at him. You instantly regret it. His dark hair hides beneath a black beanie, small curls peeking out from the back of it. He’s dressed casually in a dark gray hoodie and loose black cargo pants, but he somehow makes it look like it belongs on a magazine cover. Fuck. He’s the epitome of grunge emo boy hottie. You cover up your gawking with a nervous smile.
He returns your smile with a boyish smile of his own that you find quite endearing.
“Can I get two medium iced americanos, please.” Two drinks, huh. Maybe he has a girlfriend he’s meeting here. Fuck. You really don’t need cute emo boy here to get all lovey dovey with his (probably) really pretty girlfriend in front of you to remind you of just how broken and unmendable your own relationship is.
“Of course,” you punch in the order (perhaps a bit too aggressively). “Can I get a name for the order?”
“Hongwon.”
Fuck this guy. Even his name is cute. How’s that even possible? “Hongwon,” you repeat, grabbing two medium sized cups and writing it down. “Alright, your total is going to be $6.50.”
He hands you his card, your fingers brushing slightly as he does so. You ignore the way your cheeks start to heat up and quickly ring him up before you hand him his receipt. “Your drinks will be ready soon.”
“Thanks.”
Okay, get a hold of yourself, Y/N. It’s not his fault you’re single because your boyfriend turned out to be a douche. You sigh and make a grab for the coffee beans when your coworker emerges from the back of the kitchen.
“Hey Jungkook, back from break?”
He yawns and nods, “Yeah. I should have taken a damn nap though.” You chuckle, “what, you stay up playing Resident Evil all night again?”
He gasps dramatically and stops what he is doing to look at you, “Rude of you to assume I wasn’t up studying!” You fill two cups with ice and water. “We both know your ass wasn’t studying, you big goof.”
“Okay, I wasn’t. But that shit still hurted bro.”
You laugh again and shake your head. Jungkook tops the two cups with espresso and places the lids on them.
“Hongwon?” He calls out, reading your handwriting. You try to not look when you hear his footsteps draw closer and instead busy yourself with replacing an empty bottle of vanilla syrup.
“Thanks man.”
“No problem dude.”
As you go to toss out the empty syrup bottle, you note that the chocolate syrup is nearly gone as well as the caramel. Who the hell closed the shop last night? You swear it was probably that new guy Namjoon. He was really sweet and funny, but he was also incredibly clumsy and forgetful. You groan to yourself, remembering that both boxes of chocolate and caramel syrup are placed at the highest rack on the shelves where you can’t reach.
The bell rings again and a tall boy enters the cafe; one you recognize as Choi Hamin, one of your regular customers who you had befriended not too long ago. He smiles and waves at you. You return the gesture and blink confusedly when he doesn’t come to the register to order himself a drink.
“So how have you been, Y/N?” Jungkook asks, bringing your attention back to him.
“Huh?”
“It’s been a while since we worked a shift together.” You internally groan when he asks the one question you’ve been dreading all day. Jungkook tosses out the syrup bottles you left on the counter and heads towards the storage room in the kitchen, probably having watched your inner mental breakdown. You follow him into the room, opting to joke around with him to avoid voicing how you actually feel. “That’s because you keep giving your shifts away, headass. Maybe if you actually came into work…” you tease.
He laughs loudly and raises his hands in defense, “Whoa whoa whoa, I did not ask to be called out like that! You’re full of sass today aren’t you? Besides, you didn’t answer my question.” he immediately finds the boxes he’s looking for and reaches for them. “What’re you up to these days?”
Your fingers play with an open box of coffee creamers on a nearby shelf absentmindedly. “Oh uhm nothing much. I’m good. Just, you know, school. Art projects and stuff.” You internally cringe at the way you are unable to form a lie on the spot. “Nothing too crazy. How about you?” you ask quickly, hoping to pass the attention back onto him.
Jungkook looks over his shoulder and studies your face for a while before he decides to speak. “I’m good but…is everything really okay?”
“Yeah, it’s not too stressful. Besides, you know me, always keeping my head buried in those—”
“That’s not what I meant.”
His expression is unreadable, but the concern that laces his voice is clear. You stare at him blankly for a while, unable to find your voice. You both look at each other for a moment before a voice breaks the silence.
“Hey, Y/N?”
“Ah, uh—coming!” you call out. You head back to the register quickly, eager to avoid Jungkook’s little interrogation.
“I’m really sorry if it’s any trouble…” Hamin starts, “I was just wondering if you guys changed the wifi password… It’s been a while since I was last here. Sorry.” He stands there hesitantly, obviously sensing the tension between you and Jungkook who takes to replacing the bottles of syrup behind you.
“Oh! No, it’s no trouble at all,” you say quickly and move to grab a sticky note so you can write down the server and password. “Actually, I forgot to make a new poster for the wifi since we changed our service provider last week. Sorry.”
“It’s okay, thank you Y/N,” he smiles meekly and turns on his feet. “No worries.” You’re still watching after him when you see him sit down across from Hongwon.
Ahhhhh …so he was meeting Hamin. Hamin is friends with cute emo boy.
Jungkook’s voice breaks you from your thoughts. “Did something happen?” He asks you tentatively. You sigh. “Why would you think that?” You avoid his gaze and start wiping down the counter.
“You’re not looking at me.” He points out.
You halt your movements and look at him. “What do you want me to say, Jungkook?”
“I don’t know! The truth! It just…it feels like something is bothering you.” He says quietly.
“I’m fine. Honestly, Jungkook. Nothing is bothering me. I’m fine.” You continue wiping down the counter. Out of the corner of your eye, you notice he flinches slightly when you say it a little too aggressively.
The front entrance bell dings once again and for a second you thank the heavens for yet another momentary distraction from Jungkook’s prying until you lift your head up to greet them.
“Hell—” your voice dies in your throat along with every ounce of confidence you thought you had in yourself should this encounter occur. You freeze for a moment, unsure of how to react to his unannounced visit.
Ah, so that’s what it is, Jungkook realizes. He decides to let the scene unfold a bit before he intervenes.
“What are you doing here?” You demand immediately.
“Y/N…When are you taking a break? Can we talk?…Please?”
“I’ve had my break. I can’t talk. I’m working.”
“Just five minutes, please bab—”
“Don’t call me that.” You mentally scold yourself for the way your voice cracks slightly when you say it.
“Okay, I’m sorry. I just…when are you off? I’ll wait for y—”
“I’m not talking to you!” You yell, unconsciously taking a few steps back every time he takes one forward, even though there’s a counter that separates you both. The volume of your outburst startles Jungkook beside you, realizing how the exchange is slowly gathering the attention of everyone in the cafe.
“I don’t want to talk to you,” You repeat softly “Please respect that, Jaewon. You should leave.” You refuse to look at him, instead opting for the dirty tiles on the floor. He doesn’t say anything as he takes his leave. Your only sign he’s gone is the sound of the bell as the door closes after him.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Half of your lunch break has passed when you finish relaying all of the details to Jungkook, who has finished his shift but stayed back to talk to you.
“He’s a fucking piece of shit! He doesn’t deserve you, Y/N.” Jungkook paces around the break room with his hands on his hips. When he saw you tense at the arrival of Jaewon, he figured that you two had probably just gotten into a heated argument, at best. But he was less than ecstatic to hear otherwise when you revealed to him that he had actually cheated on you.
You sigh and shove your face into your arms on the table. “I’ll stay here and walk you home when you finish your shift.” You quickly pick your head back up. “What? No, Jungkook you don’t have to do that.”
“What if he starts harassing you when you’re walking home? He seemed adamant on getting a chance to talk to you.”
“I really don’t think he cares that much, Jungkook. Plus, even if he wants to talk to me, it’s not like I plan on giving him another chance. I’m not that dumb.”
“You’re not dumb. This isn’t your fault okay?” He remains quiet for a second before he grabs a chair and scoots it close to you, sitting on it backwards. “Listen. He doesn’t deserve you. Anyone who is stupid enough to throw you away like that is a fucking idiot. You deserve someone who will treat you like a queen.”
You chuckle lightly but say nothing, keeping your gaze cast on the floor. “If you won’t let me walk you home,” he continues “at least text me when you leave work and let me know right when you get home. Okay?”
“Jungkook,” you laugh, “you do know it’ll still be light out when I’m off right?.”
“That doesn’t matter. People do bad shit at any time of the day Y/N, they don’t care.”
“Alright, alright. Yes, dad.” you joke.
“I think I like daddy better.”
“Ew, Jungkook.”
“I’m just kidding! But on a serious note, please be careful, alright? If he gives you any trouble, call me. I’ll have you know I’ve been taking boxing lessons recently.” He says proudly.
“Are you actually concerned or is your ego really that big?” you deadpan.
He whines and grabs your hands. “Y/N. Hyeri will kill me if anything happens to you. You do know that right?” You push his hands away.
“You asshole! So you just want to get on Hyeri’s good side!”
“Noooo, I do care! Hyeri is just a plus! I swear!”
You roll your eyes playfully, “Yeah, yeah whatever. Go home, Junglebook.”
“Fine,” he pouts, grabbing his backpack and putting his bucket hat on his head. “Don’t forget to text me and call me if anything okay?”
“I will, I will.”
“Okay. Bye Y/N, get home safe.”
“You too Jungkookie.”
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Me: the one across from the Chinese restaurant right? [7:50 AM]
Hamin: yea the Grind [7:52 AM]
Hamin: I’ll be there in 10 [7:53 AM]
Hongwon stuffs his phone in his back pocket and shivers slightly. Hamin sure had some nerve making him wait. Especially when it was this damn cold. So goddamn early too.
The pair were in the middle of working on a song together and their deadline was steadily approaching. To be honest, they had been pushing it off so much because it just wasn’t coming together. Something wasn’t clicking. With just two weeks left, they figured they had to try to conjure up some lyrics that at least sounded decent.
Hey, I have an idea! Let’s wake up at the ass crack of dawn when our brain juices are hardly flowing! Surely we’ll make a masterpiece this way! He has no idea what the hell was Hamin thinking, because he sure as hell wouldn’t do this to himself intentionally.
He parks his motorcycle on the side of the curb and kicks the kickstand to keep it in place. He squints at the sign of the coffee shop, making sure he’s at the right place. He sighs, finding that unfortunately he is, and his ass will indeed have to get into work mode. He drags himself to the door, pulling on it and immediately noticing the lack of people upon entering. He silently thanks his friend for making at least one smart decision in this dumb plan of his. Looking around for free tables, he mentally picks out an empty table to claim by the window.
“Welcome! I’ll be there in just a moment!”
Hongwon nods at you silently, sweeping his eyes around the coffee shop. He notes that the decor is quite minimalistic, which he appreciates. He hates it when coffee shops try to do the most with overly expensive and fragile looking tea cups and such adorning the walls.
“Good morning. What can I get for you today?”
“Mornin’,” he smiles at you, the sullen look you had before you plastered a smile on your face, not escaping him.
He briefly looks down at the menu, even though he already knows what he’s going to order. Hamin likes americanos right? Who doesn’t? Even if he doesn’t, it serves him right for making him get up so early. “Can I get two medium iced americanos, please?”
“Of course.” He watches you punch in his order, your teeth biting into your lip in concentration. Your hair is neatly plaited into a braid, some strands falling loosely around the frame of your face.
“Can I get a name for the order?”
“Hongwon,” he says, watching you write his name on two cups.
“Your drinks will be ready soon.”
“Thanks,” Hangwon takes his receipt and finds the table he had picked near the window. He fishes out his phone and opens up his conversation with Hamin.
Me: I ordered drinks [8:12 AM]
Me: why is ur noodle looking ass taking so damn long??? [8:13 AM]
Chamin: fuck you I had to take my sister to school dingus [8:15 AM]
Chamin: i’m almost there chill i’ll buy u lunch or smth [8:15 AM]
Me: hell yeah [8:16 AM]
Me: screenshotting this [8:16 AM]
Hamin: why do i already regret that [8:19]
Hongwon chuckles and puts his phone down on the table. The inside of the coffee shop is warm, baked goods and coffee beans wafting through the air with dark mahogany bookshelves gracing the walls. If he’s being truthful, he would never step into a place like this on his own even. Although now that he’s sitting here he finds himself enjoying it. He guesses he’s thankful for the quiet seeing as though he actually has shit to get done. Usually though, his scene is more a rowdy one.
Hongwon watches you as work, joking around with your coworker, whose name he catches is Jungkook. He notices again how your smiles seem halfhearted, always keeping your gaze on the floor. He stops himself there. He’s over analyzing everything about you when he doesn’t even know you.
“Hongwon?” your coworker calls out.
He stands to receive his drinks, mentally cursing Hamin for making him look like a loner with two drinks. He sighs and glances outside the window to people watch. He taps his fingers along the wood of the table. I guess I can work in this atmosphere. Hamin’s lucky he had his morning cigarette.
Ding!
Speak of the devil. Hongwon glares at his friend as he makes his way towards him. Hamin smiles sheepishly, “Hey man sorry, Samantha couldn’t find her pink sparkly sweater and she ‘just had to wear it!’” He mocks his younger sibling’s voice in what he considers the whine of a 6 year old girl.
He cringes at his taller friend, “Eww, you’re forgiven just please never make that repulsive sound ever again.” Hamin punches his shoulder playfully, taking a seat across from him and reaching for the laptop in his bag. He fiddles around with for a bit before he sighs. “Shit, I can’t get a connection.” He squints at his laptop and then rises from his seat. “Hold on, I’ll be right back.”
“Sure,” Hongwon dismisses half heartedly; too busy going over lyrics he has written in an old notebook, trying to pick something they could potentially use for the track they had been agonizing over for weeks.
“Hey Y/N?” Hongwon watches as you meet him at the counter, smiling at him apologetically. He wonders how well you two know each other. He shakes his head and continues to bury himself in lyrics. He should be focused on this and not on things that don’t concern him. What was wrong with him? Must be the lack of sleep, he thinks. He sighs out loud thinking he could use another cigarette.
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“Undress the pants like Young B,” Hamin slaps his hand on his thigh and laughs like he just said the funniest joke on the planet. “That would be fucking hilarious! God, I still can’t believe you did that.”
“Oh my god, dude! That would be sooo fucking funny!” he says, sarcasm dripping from his words. “Fuck you! I was drunk, alright. And just for that, I will add that in so suck my dick.” Hongwon smirks and types it out on the lyrics file. The taller boy puts his hands up in mock apology, “Sorry, I don’t swing that way.”
“Go to hell.”
“Are you really putting that in there?”
“What do you think I’m doing?”
Hamin peeks at the laptop. “Damn, didn’t think you’d actually do it. Gimme creds though.”
“You’re really fuckin’ shameless you know that?”
Hamin is about to reply when your voice raises an octave. “What are you doing here?”
They both turn to look at the scene where you stand behind the counter, backing away slightly from the man in front of you.
“Y/N…When are you taking a break? Can we talk? Please?”
“I’ve had my break. I can’t talk. I’m working.” You reply curtly.
“Just five minutes, please bab—”
You flinch slightly at the word, “Don’t call me that.” It’s clear that you don’t seem too keen on talking to him. He puts two and two together and decides that this guy is probably your boyfriend. “I’m not talking to you!” You yell at him. You’re obviously upset with something he did to you, and much to his surprise, he leaves without too much of a fuss.
The patrons of the cafe had all been watching the whole thing, the shop deathly quiet until he takes his leave.
“Poor Y/N…” Hamin says before turning back to the work in front of him.
“Yeah,” he agrees “sounded rough.” He watches as your manager comes out upon hearing the commotion, your coworker explaining the situation before you’re ushered to what he assumes is probably the breakroom. “You know her?” he asks nonchalantly.
“Yeah, I met her when I first started coming here a few months back. She’s really sweet, she’s our age actually. I guess something happened with her boyfriend...”
“Huh,” he responds, taking this information quietly, trying not to appear too interested.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
Work after Jungkook went home became increasingly boring. Your other coworker Yoongi replaced him, but the cafe only became more quiet as time passed. It wasn’t that Yoongi was boring, he was just more of an introvert. On the contrary, you often preferred Yoongi’s presence because the silence with him was never uncomfortable. Of course today, however, the silence is your enemy, leaving you alone with your thoughts and nothing to block them out.
There is one good thing that was left though. You glance at his table for what feels like the millionth time that day. The cute emo boy had remained in the cafe, writing away in his notebook, his taller friend long since gone. They had spent a good six hours chattering away with each other and hovering over that laptop ever since they came in this morning. It strangely brought some peace to you, seeing him so committed to whatever he was writing in his notebook. You felt embarrassed that he and Hamin had been witnesses to the whole fiasco with your ex boyfriend in front of everyone. You wish the earth would just swallow you whole already.
“Hey,” Yoongi says, popping his head out from behind the kitchen door frame “Boss says you’re good to go home, Seokjin just came in.”
“Oh, okay. Thanks Yoongi.” You go to move past him before he stops you.
“Hey,” he starts “…it’s getting pretty cold outside, so make sure you’re bundled up alright?”
Neither of you has to say it, but you both know his words carry a double meaning. He knows what happened. But Yoongi is not the type of guy to feed you bullshit just to comfort you. You smile at his small way of taking care of you, “I will.”
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The time on your phone reads 2:23 when you finally clock off and find yourself outside the shop staring up at the granite sky, the cold air biting at your skin. Although the gloomy weather does nothing to lift your spirits, it’s still your favorite type of weather.
“Looks like it’ll probably start raining, huh?” The deep voice behind you startles you, and it’s not until you turn to look at him that you realize who it is. He stands there looking at the rapidly increasing clouds, with his lips turned down and his hands shoved in his pockets.
It’s cute emo boy. “Huh?” he looks at you, tilting his head in confusion. Shit, did you say that out loud? “A-ah-uh…you’re Hamin’s friend, right?” you blurt out. “Saw you guys sitting together.”
“Oh, uh yeah,” he nods, scratching the back of his neck and looking out into the street, “he suggested we meet for a project since he really likes the coffee here.”
“I think he likes more the fact that I give him free drinks sometimes rather than the coffee itself,” you giggle to yourself. Your nose crinkles slightly when you do, shaking your head to yourself in amusement. Cute, he thinks. Wait, what the hell? Did he just think that about a random girl he just met? Damn he really needed to get laid.
“Well,” you say, pushing your bag up higher on your shoulder. “I should probably get going before it starts to rain.” You begin to walk in the direction of your apartment when he internally begins to panic.
“Oh—uh, I’m actually walking this way too,” he blurts. Why the hell did he say that???
“Oh really? Guess we can walk together then,” you laugh.
“Uh yeah, sure,” he shrugs casually.
You both begin your trek “home” in silence. Neither of you speak, not quite knowing what to say but wanting to say something. Hongwon mentally chastises himself for being such a fool and irrationally lying to you just so he could talk to you for a bit more. He doesn’t even know why he said that but he reasons that it’s just because you’re Hamin’s friend and he probably wouldn’t want you walking alone. Even if it was still day time.
“I’m Hongwon by the way,” he blurts.
You stifle a laugh with your hand, “I know, I took your order this morning remember?” Fucking idiot. “I’m Y/N,” you say.
“Er well, I didn’t really think you’d remember,” he says lamely.
“Of course, I did! Oh, right!” you say suddenly, “you mentioned you were working on a project with Hamin. What kind of project is it? If you don’t mind me asking” you add.
Hongwon watches you from the corner of his eye; your eyes trained on your feet, fingers playing with the fringes of the scarf around your neck. He looks away and smiles slightly at your politeness. “I don’t mind,” he shoves his hands into the warmth of his hoodie pockets, suddenly shy. “We’re working on a song. I uh—we write music.” He feels nervous somehow, saying that to you. He avoids saying the words “SoundCloud” and “rapper” in fear that you’d laugh at him. He knows there isn’t the best of reputations associated with soundcloud rappers. Not that he’s embarrassed of being one himself. He just inexplicably wants to make a good impression on you.
Your lips form into a little ‘o’ at his admission. “Really,” you breathe, a puff of air coming from your mouth when you do. “That’s so cool!” Hongwon shoots his head towards you at your reaction. “Huh, I always wondered what Hamin was up to working on that laptop of his for so many hours! So, you guys in a band or something?” you ask him, your eyes sparkling with curiosity.
“Um no, not really…” he replies, still taken aback at your reaction. “You must be pretty good then. Since you guys were working in there for so long,” you tease. Hongwon flushes, remembering how Hamin had left hours before him since they had surprisingly been able to power out some good lyrics. He only stayed behind to work on some of his own stuff though, he argues to himself.
“Ah well, we have a deadline to meet so we kind of had to,” he admits, scratching the back of his neck. “A deadline? Wow, I guess it’s really serious then. That’s really cool,” you smile. “Might have to ask you to play me something of yours one day.” You flush at your own words when you realize what they imply and backtrack immediately. “If you ever plan on coming back to the Grind that is,” you bring your hands up in front of you, coming to a stop. “If not, maybe I can convince you and Hamin with a drink on the house,” you laugh nervously.
“Of course I’ll be back! I-I mean, we…err, I really liked your coffee,” he stutters. Hongwon internally slaps himself. You had an iced americano, you idiot! Just how exotic and delicious is that?! And quit acting like a 5 year old girl!
“Awesome! I basically live there so you’re bound to see me sometime,” you laugh softly. “Well, this is me,” you say pointing to a street behind you. “Thanks for walking with me, Hongwon. I know it’s probably only because I’m friends with Hamin, but I still really appreciate it.”
“Hey, I enjoyed the walk just as much as you did. Besides, I was going this way anyways,” he looks away, scratching his cheek.
“I guess I’ll see you around then?” you ask, walking backwards.
“Sure,” he calls out, putting a hand up in farewell.
Okay so, in hindsight this was probably not his best idea. Hongwon looks up at the stormy sky as small raindrops begin to fall from the sky. He sighs dejectedly and begins his walk back to his motorcycle. Oh yes, let me walk with you! I’m going this way anyway! Tell that to the Venom X-22 GT you left parked on the side of the curb, moron.
part II
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