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inkofimagination · 7 months

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getaway car - hasan piker pt.2

hasan is always by your side to help you after your break ups but something changes.

this is a part 2 of 3 of this mini series:) part 1

hope you enjoy it xx

word count: 3,5k

August

“You promised Y/N. You fucking promised me.”

“Hasan, it’s not that simple.”

“The hell it’s not!”

The anger was rolling off of him in waves, and you could feel it even from across the living room. You’d had a few tiffs in your friendship, but it had never, ever come close to anything like this.

“It was just a misunderstanding, it’s not-”

“A misunderstanding? Are you fucking kidding me? He cheated on you. With multiple girls. What is there to possibly misunderstand about that?” The disbelief was evident on his face.

“It wasn’t like that! He didn’t have feelings for any of them!”

“And you’re telling me that matters?”

“Yes, it fucking matters Hasan. You wouldn’t get it.” It was harsh, but it seemed like fair game. That comment seemed to get under his skin more than anything else you’d said.

“Oh don’t start that shit. Just because I’m waiting for the right person and not just going with the first one that looks at me and tells me I’m pretty doesn’t mean I don’t know when a relationship is fucked up,” he spat back.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

“You know exactly what I mean.”

The only reason you didn’t blow up even further was that Will had appeared from the stream room, alerted by all the yelling.

“Woah, woah hey, let’s calm it down.” He immediately tried to defuse the situation as a whole, but the tension was so high it looked like he was going to have to divide and conquer.

“Will, hey, walk it off. Walk it off.”

Hasan looked at his friend for a minute, sucking in a deep breath and turning towards the door, heading outside, hands in his hair. You watched him go, flinching when he landed a punch to the brick wall outside.

“You wanna fill me in?” Will asked, sitting down on the couch. His attention was with you, but you watched as he looked out every few moments to keep an eye on Hasan.

“It’s about Adam.” It didn’t really need more of an explanation than that.

“Oh. I thought you all were like, done done. Like I thought he cheated on you.”

“I mean... he kinda did, but we worked it out. It’s complicated... Hasan doesn’t get it, he hated him even before anything happened. Like people can’t ever make mistakes,” you sighed, running your hands over your face. This wasn’t how you wanted things to go.

“Well. I mean, your relationship isn’t really any of my business. If you’re happy and safe I’m gonna support you.” He was sincere, but you couldn’t help but notice that his words were very carefully chosen.

“I wish Hasan could see it that way.” You left it at that - you didn’t want to bash Hasan, especially not to Will.

“Hasan‘s a little more.... invested I guess.” Your brow furrowed - what was that supposed to mean? “Do you want me to go talk to him?”

“No. We aren’t in third grade, I don’t need a messenger,” you sighed. When you looked back up at Will, you realized the words were a bit harsher than you meant them to be. “I’m sorry, Will, I’m just frustrated.”

“I know, it’s alright. It’ll work itself out.”

But when you walked outside, you weren’t so sure that Will‘s words would ring true.

The only reason you could even find Hasan was because of the little droplets of blood that left a tiny polka-dot trail across the concrete. When they stopped, you found him sitting on a stair up by the loquat trees, head in his hands.

“You need to clean that out,” was the first thing that came to your head to say. He lifted up to look at you, eyes unreadable to you for the first time you could remember.

“I’ll take care of it later.”

“Can we talk about this?”

“I don’t think there’s much to talk about.” His tone was short, and those simple words were somehow more painful than if he’d let loose and yelled at you.

“I don’t wanna be pissed at each other. I wanna fix this,” you pleaded.

“Fix it,” he breathed, shaking his head. “That’s your favorite thing isn’t it? Coming to me, so I can fix things. It’s always ‘Oh Hasan I’m sad’, ‘Oh Hasan I don’t know what to do’. And then I tell you, and you go right back to doing the stupid shit that got you hurt in the first place. Do you realize how exhausting that is?”

You didn’t have the words to respond to that.

“I can’t do it anymore Y/N. I’m not gonna keep letting myself be used whenever it’s convenient for you. Don’t come crying to me when he breaks your heart again.”

Frozen to where you were, you watched him stand up and walk back into the house, cradling his hand.

September

You just hadn’t expected it to hurt so much. There had been times where you friendship with Hasan had been a bit weaker; when you both got busy and a weekly hangout wasn’t feasible, or you hadn’t seen each other in a little while. But every time you reconnected, it was like nothing had ever changed.

Maybe it hurt so bad because you knew that it wasn’t going to be that way anymore.

Taking Adam back was the worst mistake you had made - it was so obvious as soon as you’d done it. But once you’d made the decision, your friends had started to drop one by one as you spent less time with them at his request. And now, you were stuck with no one but him. It was miserable to say the least.

“What the fuck is this? Whose is this?” Adam‘s voice pulled you out of your thoughts. When you turned, he was holding up a familiar long sleeve shirt.

“It’s Hasan‘s, from a while ago.” There was no point in lying. He’d find something else to be pissed about if you did.

In the last week or so, the rose colored glasses had come off, and the manipulation was making itself fully present. And you could see just what you’d fallen for - his lies, his false promises. He’d wrecked your life, your most important friendships - and you’d let him. It made you ache for all that you had lost, Hasan especially.

“Why was it hidden in your closet?” He was itching for a fight, you could tell.

“I didn’t hide it, it’s from a while ago and probably just got buried under some other stuff.” You didn’t have the energy to fight him anymore. All you’d done since you got back together was fight. You’d realized that he often did things to get a reaction out of you, and you weren’t going to give it to him anymore.

And it worked.

“That’s it, I’m fucking done. Get out.” He threw the shirt at you, the crumpled fabric landing in your lap.

“Get out? I live here, where am I supposed to go?”

“I don’t give a fuck, just get out. I want you out by tonight.”

For some reason, the words were almost more freeing than they were hurtful. He turned and stormed off to your shared room, leaving you in the living room. You’d had this fight before, where he threatened to kick you out, just to get you to go groveling to him for forgiveness. But this time, this was your chance - you could get out, never look back, start rebuilding.

But who were you going to call? You’d lost your friends, everyone you could count on. Except one.

“Y/N? What’s up?” Will‘s voice was more comforting than you could have asked for.

“Hey. Um, I know it’s been a while, but I’m kinda stuck. I need to move out of my place, and I know everything I have isn’t gonna fit in my car. Do you think I could use your car? If you could come that would be great so I can get my car out of here too,” you asked.

“Are you okay?” The concern in his voice was blatant, and it caused you to relax just a little bit. He still cared.

“Yeah, I’m totally fine, I just need to get my stuff out and to a hotel or something until I can find another place,” you rambled.

“Yeah, we can put the seats down in Hasan‘s porsche and it actually fits a lot in there. And you aren’t going to a hotel, you can stay at his place‘‘

He said it casually, and it took your breath away. If he was willing to hear you out, to help you, maybe Hasan was too. But the more you thought about it, the more you remembered that look in his eye, his words.

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea. I don’t wanna intrude,” you mumbled.

“Stop, you know it’s not like that. Just send Hasan your address, he’s already out. I can help you all unload stuff when you get back, just text me.”

“Will, I don’t-”

“Just text him Y/N. He misses you, and I’m sure he’d be more than happy to get you out of that house. If he’s a dick, call me and I’ll set him straight. I gotta go, see you soon.”

He hung up, his words ringing in your ear.

He misses you. You had never wanted to believe something was true more than that. Trying not to think about it too long, you scrolled down and pulled up his contact.

Hey Hasan, it’s Y/N. I called Will for help, but he told me that you were already out. I need to move out, like tonight, and I can’t fit everything in my car. He said the porsche would be able to fit some stuff? If you don’t want to help I totally understand, but my address is 384 Willow Drive. Just let me know either way if you can. Thanks.

You sent it, immediately closing your phone so you didn’t dwell on it. But to your surprise, the notification popped up immediately.

I’ll be there soon.

The flutter in your heart wasn’t voluntary, and you felt the first real flicker of hope that you’d had in the last month. It somehow gave you the confidence you needed to head back into your room.

Adam was on the bed, scrolling through his phone, and he seemed surprised to see you in the doorway when you opened it.

“Are you here to apologize already? That was fast,” he said, stupid smirk on his face.

“What would I be apologizing for?” You asked, grabbing your suitcase and starting to unzip it.

“What’re you doing?” He asked, ignoring your question and sitting up.

“I’m fucking leaving, what does it look like?”

“You don’t have anywhere to go.” He said it like a challenge, and you just rolled your eyes. How had you fallen for this so many times?

“Actually, I do,” you countered, starting to grab everything out of your drawers and shoving it into the bag. You didn’t have much at the house, so hopefully it wouldn’t take you long to get packed up.

“Where?” He continued to pry.

“Well, it’s really not your concern anymore, is it.” It wasn’t a question. He started yelling, as he often did, and you shut down in defense. None of the words were even registering anymore as you kept packing as quickly as you could.

Over the noise, you barely heard the sound of knocks on the door, followed by it being thrown open. It was your only warning before Hasan came bursting into the room. You could tell by the look on his face that he had heard the yelling from outside.

You’d never been so glad to see him in your life. His hair had gotten longer, and he somehow seemed even taller than you remembered him. He’d gotten a bit of a tan, even his muscles seemed bigger than last time you saw him.

Oh, and he looked like he was ready to explode.

“What the fuck is going on in here?” He asked, immediately moving to step in front of you. You weren’t in danger - Adam had never physically hurt you, but having such a solid physical barrier was comforting nonetheless.

“The better question is what the fuck are you doing in my house?” Adam snapped, immediately stepping up. He was way smaller than Hasan because that man is literally tall as brickwall.

“I was asked to come. Now I suggest you lower your voice.” There was a heat in his voice that would have made any man smarter than Adam back up. But when Hasan turned slightly to speak to you, his tone was completely calm. “Keep packing,” he said.

It escalated quickly after that. Adam shoved at Hasan‘s chest, and it was a good thing he didn’t budge, or he would have ended up right on top of you. Before you could blink Hasan‘s arm was coiled back, and there was a sickening crunch when his fist connected with his nose.

“Fuck!” Adam groaned, grabbing his face and stumbling backwards.

“I would clear out before I get the itch to throw another one,” Hasan said, eerily calm. Even without the words, you were sure that Adam would have gone scrambling out the door like he did.

“You alright?” Hasan turned to you, concerned.

“Yeah, yeah I’m good. Thanks, for that,” you swallowed, trying to get your breathing back to normal.

“More for me that it was for you. Now, what else do you need to pack?”

“Just the stuff I have hanging up in the closet, my shoes, stuff from the bathroom and my decorations. That’s all,” you explained.

“Alright, just tell me what to take so we can get the fuck outta here,” he offered you a soft smile, the first one you’d seen in so long. It made your heart ache.

The two of you moved around the room quickly, you taking things off the walls and him gathering it all together. He didn’t leave to take anything to the car though - you didn’t have to ask why. He didn’t trust Adam enough to leave you in the house alone with him. Even once everything was packed up, you took your trips out to the cars together, filling yours first and putting everything that didn’t fit into the porsche. Adam was in the kitchen, sulking each time he saw you head through the living room and out the door.

When it was done, you took your key off your ring, sitting it on the front porch before heading back to your car.

“I’ll follow you, just head for the house. Drive safe,” he said, a bit of awkwardness starting to creep back into the air now that the excitement was over.

“Okay. You too.”

The drive was easy - you’d done it many times. The hard part was when you got back to the house. Will met you both in the driveway, immediately running over to you and giving you the biggest bear hug. You hadn’t realized how much you’d missed him too, and the fact he even wanted to hug you made you want to break down into tears.

“Welcome back,” he teased, squeezing you one more time before letting you go.

The three of you were able to get everything inside in just a few trips, filling the spare room quickly with your belongings. Luckily, he already had a bed, and there was a small bathroom down the hall that would be yours for the time being.

“Thank you guys so much for this. I promise I’ll start looking for apartments tomorrow so I can get out of your Hasan‘s hair,” you sighed, already feeling like you were taking advantage of him.

“Y/N, chill. You can stay here as long as you like, he doesn’t care,” Will said.

Yeah sure, you wanted to respond, eyes on Hasan who was standing in the corner, looking anywhere but at you. With everything winding down, the reality of the two of you being in the same room for the first time in over a month was beginning to truly set in. You looked him over, eyes falling on something.

“You have blood on your hand,” you mumbled, pointing towards it. The awkwardness of the whole interaction felt juvenile - you and Hasan had clicked immediately when you met, you never had to go through this phase.

“I must have busted it when I punched Adam.”

“You punched him? Why do I always miss all the fun?” Will pouted, breaking some of the tension in the way that only he could.

“Well you can both go beat him to a pulp for all I care, just don’t get arrested,” you teased, shaking your head.

“Don’t tempt me,” Hasan muttered. “Can you help me clean this out?” He held up his hand, looking right at you.

“Uh yeah, yeah of course.” You were surprised that he had asked you - it took you a minute to realize that he probably wanted to talk to you alone. Nerves on end, you followed him out of the bedroom, through his room and into his bathroom. You didn’t have to ask where his antiseptic and bandages were - he always kept them in the same place; bottom cabinet, left side.

“Still know your way around huh?” He asked, an awkward half-laugh hanging in the air.

“Well, you’re a creature of habit, what can I say. I think this is probably the 50th time I’ve had to patch up some part of you,” you sighed, popping open the bottle of antiseptic as he held out his hand.

“You gotta prefer this over all my workout bruises though, at least there’s no asphalt in this one,” he countered. He once feel on the concrete in his backyard while trying to do a handstand and scrapped his whole left arm.

“I’d prefer you to just stay in one piece,” you teased, beginning to clean. He winced a bit at the sting, but it settled after a minute.

“I’ll do my best,” he laughed. He rinsed it out before you started to wrap his knuckles, tying it off with tape.

Neither of you really knew what to say, and you hated it. The best part of your friendship with Hasan had always been that it was effortless - neither of you were used to having to work this hard just for a conversation. But knowing that you were in the wrong, you figured it was on you.

“Hasan-” “I just really-”

You talked over each other as if you’d started off a cue, both of you falling silent again, looking down at the floor.

“You go ahead,” he said.

“I just wanted to say how fucking sorry I am,” you blurted it out, feeling some of the weight lift off of you. “And I know you’re probably done with our friendship, and I respect that. So thank you, for coming to help me and letting me stay when you really, really didn’t have to. I was a shit friend the whole time I was with him, and there’s no excuse for that. It was fucked up, and I’m really sorry.”

There. You’d said what you could, and whatever happened now was up to him. It was his choice, which was much more terrifying than you’d thought it would be. After a minute of awkward silence you looked up at him, trying to see where his head was at.

As soon as your eyes met, his arms were around you. He pulled you to his chest, your face burying into him as he coiled around your shoulders, holding you tight and resting his cheek on top of your head. You didn’t realize you could miss a hug so much until just then.

You couldn’t help it - the tears started to well up in your eyes.

“Thank you,” you croaked, wrapping your arms around him and squeezing as tight as you could. “I thought you were gonna hate me.”

“Could never hate you,” he mumbled. “I’ve got too much of a soft spot for you to ever hate you. But you did piss me off. A lot.”

“Yeah,” you laughed through your sniffles, leaning back so you didn’t snot all over his shirt. He grinned at you, reaching up and using his bandaged knuckles to wipe away your tears.

“I missed you. Glad to have you back dummy,” he said, and you were more at peace than you had been in the last year.

#hasanabi x reader #hasan x reader #hasan piker x reader

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awkwardtickleetoo · 3 months

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Double Trouble

hellooo everyone :D and happy birthday to our baby boy sapnap!!! 🎉🎉

i know i said this was gonna be out a few days ago but uh…. i may have gotten… a little carried away…. so it took me a little longer…

but!! we shall prevail. and hopefully everyone still enjoys it even if it’s like nearly 7k words long lmaooo woopsiessss

thank you to the wonderful @sleepy--anon for sending this ask with the concept for this fic, this wouldn’t be possible without you so everyone say thank you sleepy 👏👏👏 and also shoutout to @mushiewrites for helping me plan this fic as you always do

and like i mentioned when i answered the ask, if people are interested in it, i’m totally down to make this a mini-series and do a version of this for dream and george’s birthdays when they come around, so let me know if you guys would want that!!

other than that, enjoy <3

lee!george, lee!dream, ler!sapnap, 6.5k words

A sudden knock on his bedroom door pulled Sapnap out of his focus, and he reached for the TV remote to pause the episode of Death Note he was watching from his bed.

“Come in!” He strained, stretching his arms above his head and groaning, sitting up and rubbing his eyes as the door to his bedroom opened.

“Hey,” Dream greeted as he walked in, George following behind him, and they both walked over to Sapnap’s bed. George wasted no time, jumping up onto the bed next to where Sapnap’s legs were under the covers, then pushing himself over to the head of the bed next to Sapnap, sitting cross legged. Dream chuckled at the action, but sat on the edge of the bed. “We just had a question for you.”

“Sure, what’s up?” Sapnap asked, adjusting himself to give the other two more room to sit, and Dream pulled one leg up onto the bed and left the other hanging off, touching the floor. Sapnap rested his hand on George’s knee, something he’d gotten into the habit of doing whenever George sat next to him, rubbing his thumb over the material of his pajama pants as Dream began to speak.

“So, I know we already have plans for your birthday, but we just wanted to ask if there's anything else special you wanted to do, since our plans are kinda an unspoken tradition thing,” Dream explained, earning a nod from Sapnap. “Is there anything else you had in mind to celebrate or did you just wanna do gifts and dinner like we usually do?”

“Hm…” Sapnap furrowed his eyebrows in thought. “Uh, I’m not sure, I don’t really think so? I didn’t really have anything in mi…” He began, but trailed off, his thumb pausing its movements as it rested right in the dip on the inner part of George’s knee.

Just as an evil idea formed in his head.

“What?” Dream asked, tilting his head in confusion as he watched Sapnap’s expression change to one that was significantly more sinister.

“Did you think of something?” George cut in, looking just as lost as Dream. Sapnap smiled over at him, pressing his thumb into his knee with light pressure.

“Yeah, I thought of something,” Sapnap said, adjusting his position again, folding his hands in his lap and leaning forward– to show he meant business, of course. “I want to tickle you both,” He continued bluntly, watching Dream’s eyes widen and his lips part in shock, and listening to George’s scoff of disapproval.

“Wh- uh…” George stuttered for a moment, sounding like he wanted to speak, wanted to say something snarky in response, but couldn’t find the words. “W-what?” He ended up with, quite well spoken, if Sapnap were to say so himself.

“I want to tickle both of you. At the same time. I get free range of any spots and any techniques that I want, and I get to keep going until you each can’t take it anymore. We’ll have a safeword, of course, I’m not a monster,” Sapnap said with a smile, earning an amused chuckle from Dream and another scoff from George. “And I want it to be completely willing. No restraints, no pinning– okay, well, maybe a little bit, because I know some of us can get a little too squirmy to stay still on our own…” Sapnap teased, raising his eyebrows and looking over at George, who promptly threw his hands over his face and curled in on himself with a groan, making the other two laugh fondly. Sapnap moved his hand to George’s back, rubbing up and down soothingly for a few moments to calm him, before letting it drop back down to his knee. “But I want it to be completely voluntary. I want you guys to let me tickle you for as long as you can stand it,” Sapnap finished, smiling as Dream stared at him nervously and George dropped his hands to reveal his blushing face, looking at the comforter below him, refusing to make eye contact.

“That’s… you– so, we…” Dream stammered, swallowing shakily, pouting slightly as he tilted his head back to look at the ceiling. “You just…” He closed his eyes, letting out a soft breath, looking back down at Sapnap with pinched eyebrows. “I-I thought you would’ve picked, like… watching a movie or something.”

“Well, you thought wrong, baby boy,” Sapnap teased, giggling at the way the pet name made Dream’s cheeks turn a light pink color. There was a moment of silence again, before Dream continued.

“And that’s… that’s really what you want?”

“It’s really what I want,” Sapnap said confidently, watching as Dream looked over to George, raising his eyebrows. George’s lips parted, a subtle pout still on his face, and he let out an uncertain sigh, shrugging his shoulders in a way that would be just barely noticeable if you weren’t looking for his reaction.

George seemed more uncertain of his answer than Dream, though he wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable with the idea. Dream, who knew George better than George knew himself sometimes, seemed to make the decision for him, a mischievous smile gracing his lips as he turned back to Sapnap.

“Okay.”

“WHAT?!” George yelped, voice squeaky, curling in on himself in both embarrassment and nerves.

“You’ll do it?” Sapnap asked, the same mischievous smile on his own face.

“We’ll do it.” Dream nodded, smiling as he watched George shift against the pillows.

“NO?! No, no! We will not! We’re not– I’m not doing that, no!”

“George,” Sapnap said firmly, looking over at him, making him freeze in his place under Sapnap’s knowing look. “If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. Just say the words. We won’t be upset.”

“No, I…” George began, before clamping his mouth shut and letting out a breath through his nose. He pouted again, slumping down against the pillows behind him, bringing his knees up and crossing his arms over his chest. “Whatever.”

“Mm, thought so,” Sapnap said with a smile, earning another scoff from George, followed by an eye roll and him looking off to the side to avoid eye contact. “Alright then…” Sapnap said, moving out from under the covers and off to the side to give Dream a clear path to the top of the bed. “Let’s go.”

“…Let’s go, what?” Dream asked in confusion, glancing over at George, who ventured a look back as well. He still seemed nervous, but he was still pouting and his eyes were big and glossy, so Dream could tell he was fine, and he was sure Sapnap could as well. George glanced between the two, staying silent, waiting for things to unfold. Sapnap smiled, gesturing to the bed, before clarifying.

“Lay down. I wanna get started, I’m not wasting any of my tickle time.”

“Wha– now?! You– you meant now?!” Dream asked, nervousness settling over his features as well, squirming slightly where he sat and bouncing his foot that still rested on the floor.

“Yeah, of course I meant now! C’mon,” Sapnap said, patting the middle of the bed. “Lay down, Dreamie.”

“But– that’s– I didn't–“ Dream stuttered, his cheeks burning, biting his lip to force down a smile. Sapnap gave him an expectant look, raising his eyebrows at him, and Dream let out a sigh before wordlessly moving himself to lay down. He situated himself the best he could, adjusting the pillow under his head and settling down against Sapnap’s ruffled sheets, one hand messing with his hair and the other resting on his own chest.

“There we go. That’s perfect,” Sapnap praised, gently patting Dream’s knee and smiling down at him, receiving one in return as well. Then, he turned his attention to George, who looked back at him with wide eyes, curling further in on himself under the pressing gaze. “George.”

“Mm-mm,” He mumbled, shaking his head.

“You know it’s your turn.”

“I can’t.”

“C’mon, Georgie, you know you’re gonna let me,” Sapnap coaxed, sitting up on his knees and resting one hand on George’s knee. “Don’t try to start a fight you know you’ll lose.”

“I’m not–! It’s not that, it’s just– I just– Sapnap, c’mon–“ George stammered, squirming in his seat, looking up at Sapnap with wide eyes as the younger boy began to push in closer. He loomed over George, making him lean further back into the pillows but not budge to lay down yet, the proximity making his lip tremble nervously as he took in a shaky breath. “Sap– Sapnap…”

“You know what I have to do.”

“No, Sapnap, pl–EASE–!” George yelped as Sapnap suddenly grabbed his ankles, yanking him forward by his legs and pulling him down the bed to be almost flat. “NO, don’t! Stop, STOP!” He protested, yelling and complaining, frantically trying to push himself up, bending his legs to put his knees between him and Sapnap’s bodies to keep the distance.

“Don’t you fucking dare,” Sapnap threatened when George managed to prop himself up on his elbows and slide back. He grabbed George again, this time by his hips, and pulled him back down flat, swatting his hands away every time they tried to grab him.

“No, nonono, NO! SAPNAP!” George continued to yell, much to the entertainment of the other two, and Sapnap giggled as he wrapped his arms around George’s calves, shifting him down to lay on an even level with Dream. “LET GO, let go, let go, let go!” George tried everything to yank his legs free, attempting to pull, push, turn to either side, but nothing worked. Soon enough, Sapnap was pushing George’s legs against the bed and throwing himself over him, straddling his thighs and keeping him fully pinned. “NO! No, no! Sapnap! C’monnnnn, Sapnaaaap…” George whined, groaning in frustration, still arching his back as he pushed at Sapnap’s legs and bucked his hips up.

“Hey,” Sapnap said firmly, grabbing George’s wrists and pinning them to the bed by his sides, making him gasp and stare up at him, wide eyed. “Are you done?” He asked, and George twisted his wrists in his hold, not budging at all.

“Wh– I…” He clamped his mouth shut and nodded.

“Are you gonna behave yourself?”

“Mhm.” Another nod, and Sapnap smiled and let go of his wrists, watching George immediately cross his arms over his chest and pout.

“Good. Now quick ground rules before we start, like I said, I get to do whatever I want, however I want it, and you have to let me. Okay?” He said, earning an eye roll from George, but a nod and hum in understanding from both of them. “Good. And whenever you want me to stop, for any reason, whenever you’re ready to be done, you say, uh…” Sapnap thought for a moment, deciding on a safeword. “I dunno, you say ‘minecraft’, does that work? Safe word is minecraft?” George scoffed, letting out a quiet laugh at the silly choice, but he nodded and hummed anyway.

“Minecraft is good,” George said.

“Yeah, minecraft works,” Dream agreed, smiling up at Sapnap. Sapnap smiled and laughed as well, nodding his own head.

“Alright, perfect.” With that, Sapnap’s smile turned evil, and his hands were immediately on Dream’s sides, scratching his nails over the area on top of his shirt, adding in a few pinches and pokes here and there to make Dream squirm more. Dream gasped, the smile on his face turning bashful before he broke into a wide, toothy grin, his giggles and squeaky laughter spilling out despite his attempts to stop it.

“Oh, gohohod…” He said as he tensed his shoulders. Instinctively, his hands flew to grab Sapnap’s, yanking them away from his sides, but this only stopped him for about one second before they returned to continue their motions anyway. “Ah!” He gasped again, then grabbed the hands again, pulling them away, but still, they just jumped back into action. “Naha! No, nohoho, no!” This happened a few more times, Dream’s giggles growing more frantic each time, until Sapnap spoke up.

“Hey. No. None of that today, you have to let me,” He reprimanded softly, making Dream groan and cover his face with his hands for a moment before dropping them down on the bed and gripping the sheets in his hands. “See? Not so hard, is it?”

“Fuhuck yohouohou! You knohow thahat’s not truhuhuhue!” Dream replied, making Sapnap giggle and nod, and he decided to form his hands into claws and scratch at Dream’s sides that way instead, even slipping under his shirt to scratch and poke at his bare skin instead, making him squeal and arch his back. “OH, fuhuhuck! Gohohod, NOHOHO!” Dream’s laughter grew louder when Sapnap skittered his fingers over the sides of his tummy, his hips jolting and his knees drumming against the bed underneath him, making the whole mattress shake with his movements. Sapnap chuckled, tweaking the center of Dream’s ribs, making him squeal as his hands grabbed onto his wrists again.

“Hey,” Sapnap began, but Dream only squeezed tighter, not pulling them away but just holding on, even as the fingers went back to scratching cruelly at his sides.

“I knohow, I know Ihihi know I knohohow,” Dream mumbled through his laughter, biting his lip and letting out a quiet whimper before breaking down again. He squeezed his eyes shut, his giggles turning breathy as Sapnap’s fingers migrated downwards, scratching ever so gently on the sides of his lower tummy. “Sahahapnahahap!” He whined, knowing the other boy was aware of how bad that spot was, but Sapnap simply smiled and kept going.

Until Sapnap felt the hips underneath him shift, and he heard a small sound from the boy they belonged to. He slowed his hands to a stop, looking down at George, just in time to watch him turn his head away and close his eyes, attempting to keep his cool. Dream’s laughter fizzled out to soft residual giggles, quiet enough that George knew something had changed. He blinked his eyes open, starting to turn his head back, stopped when he caught Sapnap’s gaze staring down at him with a knowing smile on his face. He shut his eyes again and groaned, tilting his head back exasperatedly.

“What?” He mumbled, pout still present on his lips, but his fidgety hands still moved to rest on Sapnap’s knees, the contact clearly helping calm him as he swallowed his nerves and waited for a reply.

“Does someone want my attention?” Sapnap asked teasingly, and George immediately whined and squirmed at the question, his hips shifting as much as they could with Sapnap still sitting on top of his thighs. “I think my kitten might feel a little left out.”

“Shut upppp,” He protested, but he didn’t deny the accusation. Sapnap cooed, making him whine again, turning his head to the side and trying to hide in the pillows as much as he could. “I hate you.”

“Aww, it’s okay, George, I didn’t forget about you,” Sapnap reassured, pushing his hands up under George’s shirt now, quickly choosing his first choice spot. His palms rested on George’s sides, fingers curled around his torso, and his thumbs rested perfectly in the dip of his waist. Then, he curled his thumbs, using his nails to scratch right at that spot, as lightly as he could.

“Nohoho, no, nonono, nohot that–!” George protested, his hands gripping Sapnap’s knees even tighter, breathing heavily through his nose. He tensed up, his entire body going rigid and still, determined to hold his laughter in. His hands jumped up, grabbing onto Sapnap’s wrists and trying to pull him away, but the way his hands curled around his sides made his grip nearly impossible to loosen. “Sapnap, noho!”

This spot– perfectly in the dip of his waist– had always been one of Sapnap’s favorite ways to torment the poor man. It wasn’t his worst spot by any means, it probably wouldn’t even make the top ten, but both of them knew that it was the exact spot where, if Sapnap stayed there for an extended period of time, it would very, very quickly become completely unbearable.

Which was exactly Sapnap’s goal. And it took all of thirty seconds to start breaking down the wall George held up with all his might.

“Sahahap–“ He warned, biting his lip, his giggles starting to escape between whimpers and squirms. Once his squirming started, he couldn’t seem to stop, leaning away from whichever side felt worse and pushing into the opposite, repeating the motion over and over again. The same thing happened with his laughter, and once the first breakthrough was made, it wasn’t possible for him to home anything else in. “Oh myhy gohohohohod, oh my gohohod, stohop! Stohohop, I cahahan’t!”

“Does Dream even know about this spot?” Sapnap asked, looking over at Dream and getting an enthusiastic nod in response, his smile widening at the sight of George already getting lost to the tickles so early on.

"I dohohon't knohow! I don't knohohohow!" George responded without thinking, his laughter picking up further, growing more and more frantic as Sapnap kept going. His brain felt numb already, his head heavy when he tried to move it, like it was filled with lead. He was dizzy- this spot made him dizzy, the absolutely maddening sensation that just kept growing and growing, constant in that one tiny, tiny area, it made him feel light headed.

“Yes, you most certainly do, Georgie,” Dream said, but he knew George likely wouldn’t even process what he was saying. His hips bucked up suddenly, his laughter turning into more squeals and labored breathing as he truly hit the point of no return for one of the tiniest, most specific spots he had.

“NO, plehehehease! Plehease, Sahahap, PLEHEASE– I cahahan’t!” George begged, smacking his hands against the bed, before grabbing Sapnap’s hands again and pulling. He got nowhere, so he wrapped his hands around Sapnap’s thumbs to stop him instead, which worked for barely a few seconds.

“Hey!” Sapnap scolded, shifting his hands, now using his pointer fingers to dig in harshly to the same spot.

“AH! NOHOHOHO!” George squealed, shaking his head frantically, squeezing Sapnap tighter and squirming under his evil fingers. “SAPNAHAHAP!”

“What did we say about letting me do what I want?!”

“I’M SOHORRYHYHY! Plehehehease!” George begged, and Sapnap decided to finally take some pity on him, pulling his hands away and giving him a moment to breathe. “Oh my gohod…”

“You okay?” Dream asked softly, reaching over and taking one of George’s hands in his, smiling when George laced their fingers together and squeezed.

“Yeah…” He said, bringing his other hand up to run through his hair, dropping it next to his head afterwards.

“Good, ‘cause I’m gonna keep going,” Sapnap said, and without any further warning, he had a hand on both of their tummies, clawing at them over the t-shirts at the same time.

“AH– nahaha!” Dream immediately let out a squeal, maybe the most adorable sound Sapnap had ever heard, as he slammed his free hand over his mouth and yanked his other away from George’s to cover as much of his tummy as he could manage. Sapnap didn’t let this stop him, though, and he instead just settled on scratching his nails all around Dream’s hand, getting wherever he couldn’t cover, even as he kept moving his hand around to try to stop him. “No– ah! Sahap! Noho, Sahapnahap! No– NO! Stohohop ihihit! Stohohohop!” Dream kept up his squealing and squirming, batting at Sapnap’s hand,his legs kicking out against the bed as he giggled freely.

“I can’t stop when you’re so cute!” Sapnap teased, and Dream shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut again.

Sapnap turned his attention to George, who had covered his face with both hands to try and hide his reactions, clearly embarrassed by how breathy and high-pitched his gasps and giggles were. His tummy fluttered with each touch of Sapnap’s nails, his hips jumping as he flinched and squirmed away from the hand.

“This is really getting to you, isn’t it?”

“Shuhuhut uhup!” George whined, and suddenly both hands were clawing at his tummy instead. “AH! Sahahapnahap!” He squealed, sliding his hands up and grabbing his hair, clearly trying his best not to grab at Sapnap’s hands to stop him. Sapnap heard Dream giggle, and suddenly he switched to clawing at Dream’s tummy with both hands instead.

“OH– gohohod, noho waharnihihing?!” Dream yelled, jumping at the sudden change.

“Hm… nope!” Sapnap jumped back to George, making him squeal and whine again, shaking his head and reaching down to grab at Sapnap’s legs again, still squirming his hips and taking in grateful breaths when he went back to Dream a few seconds later. Though his relief didn’t last long, as the hands inevitably came back to him again.

“Nohoho, Sahap!” George whined, finally breaking and swatting at his hands. “Stahay over thehehere! Stahahay thehere!”

“Stay here? Okay!” Sapnap teased, making George shake his head helplessly.

“Nahahaha!” Sapnap was thrilled with how pliant he had managed to get George already, knowing his weakened and whining state would help him out immensely in the future. Still, he decided to take some pity on him.

“Yeah, you’re right, I have to give Dream another turn, don’t I?”

“Yehehes, yes!”

“Noho!” Dream giggled nervously, crossing his arms over his tummy and trying to protect the area as much as he could. Sapnap giggled, pulling back his hands, giving them both a moment to breathe. After he felt the time was sufficient, he spoke again, this time to Dream.

“Hey,” He said quietly, resting his hands on Dream’s arms, getting his attention. “Lift these up.”

“What?!” He asked in shock, his eyes wide as he tensed his arms to his sides instead. “No!”

“C’mon, Dreamie. I know you can do it, you’ve done it for me before.” Sapnap pushed on Dream’s arms, and he watched Dream’s eyes soften, seemingly considering his options. “C’mon. Put your arms behind your head for me.”

“But, I–“ He tried to fight, but the smile on Sapnap’s face was too caring for him to want to say no, as well as a reminder that he promised to let Sapnap do whatever he wanted. He sighed, crossing his arms behind his head and laying back against them, shifting around to get comfortable before looking up at Sapnap, and the excited look he had made everything worth it.

“Thank you, Dreamie,” Sapnap said, before gently scratching at Dream’s underarms, giggling along with him as he immediately tensed up and began to squirm.

“Gohohod…” He mumbled, bending his knees and swaying them in the air to keep his upper body still. “Thihis suhuhucks.”

“I know, but I’m really happy you’re letting me do it,” Sapnap said sweetly, making Dream whine and bend his elbows in to try and hide his face. Sapnap chuckled, gently trailing his wiggling fingers all the way down Dream’s sides, then back up again, over his ribs, sides, above his hips, and back to his underarms where he stayed for a moment longer. “This is good.”

“Shuhut uhup.” Suddenly, there were two fingers digging into Dream’s highest ribs on each side, making him yell out in shock and slam his arms down. “AHAHA, WHYHYHY?!” He asked, completely caught off guard, grabbing Sapnap’s hands and pulling him off, wrapping his arms around himself so he could breathe while Sapnap laughed at his reaction.

“I just wanted to see what would happen,” Sapnap explained, getting an eye roll and an amused smile from Dream, before he turned his attention back to George. “Your turn now.”

“What?! No, no, I can’t, no you–“ George denied, shaking his head, crossing his arms over his chest and holding his opposite shoulders to keep himself closed off. “Noho, you know I– you know–“

“Georgiiieee…” Sapnap sang, mirroring George’s position just to mock him. “You know you promised to let me do whatever I want.”

“But I–“

“Arms. Up.” Sapnap grabbed George’s elbows, pushing on them, but George just clamped them down tighter.

“Noho! No, no, plehease, don’t, Sapnahahap, DON’T–“ George continued to fight, pushing against Sapnap’s strength until his arms shook, but he could only go for so long. Sapnap was quickly able to pin his elbows down next to his head, squeezing his arms as he did.

“There!”

“C’monohon, that’s not fair!”

“You’re right, it’s not. You’re supposed to keep them there. So keep them here.”

“Noho!” George yelled, slamming them down against his sides as soon as Sapnap let him go. Sapnap raised his eyebrows, giving him a stern look, and George whined helplessly. He moved his arms again, getting about halfway up before slamming them down, nervous giggles making their way out of his mouth. He groaned, trying one more time, and that time Sapnap managed to shove his hands under his arms before he slammed them down again, making George squeal and clamp down even harder, shaking his head uselessly. “NAHAHA– nohohoho! PLEHEHEASE, plehease, Sahahap, plehehehease!”

“You’re such a baby, oh my god,” Sapnap teased, pulling his hands out and latching onto George’s ribs instead, making his laughter turn more frantic than ever, squirming so strongly it could convince someone that Sapnap was actually killing him.

“SAPNAHAHAHAP! STOHOHOP, PLEHEHEASE!” George pleaded as he held onto Sapnap’s wrists, trying desperately to pull him away, but he was too weakened by the tickles to be able to grab much more than one finger at a time. “IHI CAHAHA–!” Sapnap laughed along with him at his reactions, tightening his knees on either side of George’s hips to keep himself steady, his constant bucking and kicking nearly flinging him off. After a moment, he decided to give the poor boy a break, pulling his hands back and pressing down on George’s shoulders to stabilize him, giving him a chance to breathe and contain himself.

While also making it harder for him to squirm around to get rid of the ghost tickles.

“Oh myhyhy gohohohod…” George’s giggles continued at a constant pace, his torso jumping and flinching with the hopeless attempt to squirm away. His hips shifted under Sapnap’s body, pushing his shoulders up to try and get his hands away, but nothing worked. “Lehehet goho of mehehehe.”

“But this is so fun.”

“Sahapnahahap!”

“Ugh, okay, whatever,” He said with an eye roll, letting George’s shoulders go and sliding back to sit further down on his thighs instead.

Suddenly, he reached over to latch his hands onto Dream’s legs, squeezing right above his knees without any mercy. Dream absolutely screamed, yelling out in shock and jumping so hard it knocked Sapnap’s headboard against the wall.

“AH– GOHOHOD–!” Dream arched his back at the sensation, his legs kicking out against his will and attempting to dislodge the hands. When this didn’t work, he jolted upwards, attempting to sit up and reaching forward to grab at Sapnap’s hands to pull him off that way. In retaliation, Sapnap simply shoved him backwards so he'd fall back down and grabbed onto his hips instead, squeezing cruelly at the area right above them. “NOHOHO! SAHAP, STOHOP!” He protested, letting out a loud yelp when Sapnap’s thumbs dug into the sweet spot above his hip bone, bucking his hips and flinging Sapnap’s hands away.

“Holy fuck, Dream, you’re supposed to be the one who can stay still!” Sapnap commented, grabbing Dream’s hips and pulling him back down into his place. Dream covered his face in embarrassment, his cheeks bright red where his skin peaked between his fingers.

“Ihi cahahan’t hehelp ihihihit!” He defended, making the other two laugh, and Sapnap dug his thumbs in again. He let out another squeal, bringing his legs up in an attempt to fold himself in half, but one quick squeeze to his knees made him kick back out with another laugh.

Then, Sapnap moved back to his tummy, quickly grabbing the hem of Dream’s shirt that had already ridden up to show his lower tummy and pushing it the rest of the way up. Dream caught on immediately, his tummy jumping at the new air in his skin, shaking his head and protesting.

“Nohoho, nonono, Sahapnap, dohohon’t–!” He was cut off when Sapnap’s hands touched down, scribbling up and down the sides of his tummy and scratching all around his belly button, making him suck in his tummy and simultaneously arch his back, against his own volition. “Nahahahaha!” Dream’s laughter was high pitched and squeaky now, quickly turning breathless the longer the tickling went on.

“You’re doing way better than I expected you to,” Sapnap praised over his laughter, earning a groan in response.

“Shuhut UHUHUP!” He replied, trying to sound as angry as he could while giggling his head off, making Sapnap snort. The tickling migrated down to Dream’s lower tummy, and he gasped and threw one arm over his face, holding in his laughter as much as he could. It only lasted a few seconds though, before he broke out into helpless, high pitched giggles, taking in hiccupy breaths between every few as his hips twitched with each touch. His other hand landed on the bed, hitting the sheets a few times to expel any extra energy he couldn’t get out by squirming and kicking.

Then, suddenly, Sapnap dug his pointer fingers into the spot just next to his hipbones, another sweet spot that he knew was sure to make Dream scream, and he leaned down to blow the biggest raspberry he could manage right in the center of his stomach. As expected, Dream let out a loud yell, both hands immediately jumping to tangle his fingers in Sapnap’s hair, pulling him off and shoving at his hands.

“OKAHAHAY, OKAY, MIHINECRAHAHAFT, MINECRAFT, STOHOP, PLEHEHEASE!” Dream pleaded, and Sapnap did immediately, tugging Dream’s shirt back down and placing one palm flat on his tummy.

“Okay, Dreamie, okay, we’re done. We’re done,” He reassured, rubbing the ghost tickles away for him with firm pressure so he didn’t tickle him more. After a few moments, he leaned over George to reach down beside the bed, taking a water bottle out of the mini fridge he had next to his bed, twisting it open and handing it to Dream. “Here, drink this.” Dream took it gratefully, taking another big breath before propping himself up onto his elbow to gulp down the water he desperately needed.

“Thank you,” He whispered, smiling at Sapnap, flopping back down and continuing to breathe heavily.

“You okay?” Sapnap asked, amused, earning a nod.

“Yeah. Just gotta catch my breath. But yeah, I’m good…” Dream explained, and Sapnap hummed in understanding, taking Dream’s hand and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before turning his attention back to George underneath him.

“Alright. Your turn again, baby boy,” Sapnap teased, his smile turning sinister, and George's eyes widened immediately.

“What?! No! No, I thought you were done!” George’s squirming began again, trying to push at Sapnap’s knees. To his surprise, Sapnap did move, but it was clearly by his own choice, and he shifted to sit cross-legged next to George instead. George moved to squirm away, but he didn’t get the chance, because Sapnap simply grabbed his ankles and pinned them under his arm, trapping them in a headlock position. “No, Sapnap, don’t–“

“You don’t even know what I’m gonna do yet, idiot. You’re so squirmy over nothing.”

“This is not over nothing!” George argued, pulling at his legs, twisting his ankles leaning up onto his elbows to try and get a better angle– anything he could think of to get free, but nothing worked. Sapnap simply held tighter, yanking him closer so George’s legs were over his lap and he could hold further up his calves, knocking him off his elbows and back down flat. Before George could even think to sit up again, there was a hand between his thighs, squeezing the inner part of his right leg with absolutely no mercy. “NOHOHO! DOHON’T, PLEHEHEASE!” George screamed, his body thrashing, legs kicking desperately in Sapnap’s hold.

“There we go!” Sapnap exclaimed happily, thrilled with the reaction and how tortured George was sounding. “That’s what I wanted to hear!”

“NAHAHAHA!” George protested, shaking his head so frantically Sapnap was worried he might’ve given himself whiplash. The hand on his inner thigh continued squeezing, moving up and down his leg, staying at the spot right in the middle that made George scream out. “NOHOHO SAHAHAPNAP!” George reached forward to try and pull at Sapnap’s arm, but he couldn’t get a good grip, and his hand kept slipping away. It only became harder when Sapnap’s hand moved downward, squeezing the back of his thigh as he did, his entire hand curled around George’s knee, now digging into the back of it and making George arch his hips off the bed as his leg kicked helplessly. “FUHUCK, STOHOP! AHAHA, STOHOHOHOP!”

“I’m not hearing the safe word yet, George, you know when to use it,” Sapnap reminded, both to tease George about not stopping him yet and to make sure he still remembered it was an option. Quickly, he slid his hand back up, digging into the crease between George’s hip and thigh just a couple times, to make George flail and squeal– which is exactly what he did.

“NO– AH!” George yelped, his whole body jolting at the feeling that was gone as soon as it started.

Then, Sapnap switched arms, holding George’s ankles as tightly as he could in the opposite arm’s headlock, and then scribbled his nails up and down the soles of his socked feet without warning.

“OH SHIHIHIT– NOHOHO, SAHAHAPNAHAHAP, STOHOP IHIHIT–!” George’s voice was frantic, his body language desperate and hopeless, arching his back off the bed and turning himself to the side to bury his face in the pillow under him. He felt a hand touch his, gasping at the sudden touch, and he whipped his head around to see Dream lacing their fingers together gently to keep him grounded. Everything was just too much for him– his hand being held, the attention on him, the fingers tickling his feet, fast and rough with it, not giving George a second to breathe– it was making him dizzy. “PLEHEHEASE- PLEASE, IHI CAHAHA– I CAHAN’T–“ He took in a breath, swallowing against his dry throat, whimpering at the scratchiness he felt and slamming his free hand against the bed, gripping the sheets in his fist.

He couldn’t take any more, and Sapnap showed no signs of slowing down.

“SAHAP, STOHOHOP! MIHINECRAHAHAFT!” He yelled, and the immediate removal of the unbearable tickling filled him with so much relief he collapsed against the bed, jaw dropped as he took in as much oxygen as his body could, as quickly as he could. Sapnap broke into loud laughter as soon as the room went silent, Dream following quickly after, and George couldn’t help but laugh as well, whining in embarrassment. “It’s nohot funnyhyhy! Leave mehe alooooneee…” He complained, grabbing the pillow behind his head and pulling it over his face.

“It’s a little funny, Georgie,” Dream said, making George groan angrily, muffled by the pillow. Sapnap and Dream laughed again, but gave George a second to calm down still.

“I’m sorry, baby boy, I’m sorry. We’re done, it’s okay,” Sapnap soothed, patting George’s tummy gently, sliding his hands up his sides to his arms, pulling them down and taking the pillow away. “C’mon, you’re alright now, you can just chill. Here,” Sapnap said as he pushed George’s legs off his lap and leaned over to the fridge again, grabbing another bottle of water for George. George rolled his eyes but took it, pushing himself to sit up so he could open the water and drink some. In the meantime, Sapnap turned his attention to Dream, running a hand through his messy hair and cupping his cheek, rubbing his thumb gently under his eye. “You did really well. Both of you did a really good job. I really appreciate you letting me do that, even if it was really mean.”

“Hm…” Dream hummed, closing his eyes and melting into the touch. His hand came up to rest on top of Sapnap’s, almost comically large in comparison, but neither of them seemed to notice. “Of course. Anything for you. We love you.”

“Aw, Dreamie…” Sapnap whispered, smiling softly. “Turn over, I have an idea.” Dream fluttered his eyes open and nodded, trusting Sapnap wholeheartedly. He turned onto his tummy, wrapping his arms around the pillow and settling down against it, closing his eyes again. Sapnap smiled, fussing with his hair for a moment again before shifting over to straddle the backs of his thighs. Dream looked back at the sudden weight, but stayed relaxed. “Okay perfect, now you, c’mere,” He said, motioning to George, who looked over at him with wide eyes but slid over anyway. He let Sapnap pull him into place, and he ended up with his legs draped over Dream’s body, his head on Sapnap’s shoulder, and Sapnap’s hand on the back of his neck, running through the front of his hair before resting there and scratching at the soft curls.

George would never admit it, but all three of them could feel how instantly he relaxed into the hold, leaning against Sapnap’s chest.

“There we go,” Sapnap whispered, and his free hand dropped onto Dream’s back, gently scratching up and down his spine the way he knew Dream liked– even though it tickled like crazy. Dream gasped at first, shoulders tensing, but he relaxed even further after barely a second, letting out soft giggles and tiny kicks and squirms whenever Sapnap passed a good spot. “This is good, right?”

“Mhm,” George mumbled, nodding, Sapnap’s fingers practically putting him to sleep– and Dream was no better. “You had fun with that?”

“Oh my god, of course I did. How could I not when you’re both so cute?” Sapnap replied, making George hide in his neck and giggle, squirming to get closer. George always tended to get shy after tickles, and sometimes– if Sapnap was lucky– he’d get clingy too, only wanting to cuddle and nap and never let go.

It seemed Sapnap was lucky that day.

After a long while of silence, Sapnap took his hand off George's neck to reach for the remote, turning Death Note back on and lowering the volume, knowing George liked to have something on as background noise so he could relax easier. He took George's hand in his, bringing his palm up to his mouth and pressing a soft kiss to it. George giggled at the feeling, scrunching his nose up and shaking his head.

"Whahat are you doihing?" He asked through giggles, his hand flinching when Sapnap did it again.

"Giving you kisses," He said, doing it again. "Duh." Another kiss, each one making George flinch and giggle more.

"Yohou're duhumb. Let go." George tugged on his hand. Sapnap pulled his wrist closer, placing another kiss, and George's entire body jolted at that one.

"Stohop," He said in a fake stern voice.

"Nah. Bet my beard is tickling you too, huh?"

"Noho!" George denied, but Sapnap simply held his hand up to his mouth with both of his, making sure George couldn't pull away. He then continued to kiss at George's palm, over his fingers, up to his wrist, making sure to scratch his beard against his hand as he did it. "Nahaha! Sahahap! Thihihis ihis stuhupihihid, stohop!" George said through his giggles, his voice breathy and high in his throat. He squirmed at the feeling, pushing at Sapnap's head with his free hand, tapping his toes against the bed as he did so. After a few moments of this, George whined again. "Okay, okahahay, stohohop, it feels weheheird on my hahahand, c'mohon–“ He explained, and Sapnap let him go with one final, overdramatic kiss that he punctuated with a silly 'mwah!' sound effect. George giggled as he wiped his hand off on his pants, shaking his head and scrunching his nose at Sapnap, before leaning back against his shoulder again.

A moment later, Sapnap leaned down slightly, and he could see that Dream had fallen asleep, he smiled softly, wordlessly motioning for George to lay down as well, and he pulled his special Houston Rockets blanket over all three of them as he pulled George in to cuddle closer.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, knowing George’s mind could either go racing or go completely blank after tickles, and George hummed contentedly.

“M’good,” He replied sleepily, curling up against Sapnap’s chest and tugging him in by his hips. Sapnap giggled at the sudden pull, pressing a kiss to George’s temple and reaching over to make sure his hand stayed in contact with Dream’s arm behind George’s head, and they both joined Dream in a quick nap soon after.

And of course, the next day was filled with plenty of glorious revenge birthday tickles– after all, it was still Sapnap’s birthday.

#lee!george #ler!sapnap #lee!dream #cals writing #sleepy anon

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brave-and-gentle · 24 days

Text

Stitches: Reader x Jean Fluff Part 4

Welcome to - *waves* whatever this is. I originally called it my fluff mini series but I keep extending it.

If this is your first time here, please check out Part 1 Part 2 and Part 3.

If you like this mini series, be sure to check out my original character x Jean fic on Ao3 here

Pairings: femme reader x Jean

Summary: You begin to unravel the mystery of why your "situationship" with Jean hasn't progressed.

Warnings: none here

Word count: ~4.9K

Although you are exhausted after your night with Jean, you hardly sleep that night. Your mind races, twists and turns. You're torn between how much fun you had at the poetry slam and wine bar – very intimate settings – and the obvious way Jean pulled away from you at the very end of the night. It didn't make any sense. Why kiss you several weeks ago, why ask you out like that – and then nothing?

The Thursday work day is brutal. You trudge through your work, mindlessly checking patients in for their appointments, barely able to keep your eyes open until finally, you reach the last hour before the clinic closes.

You're unsure whether to look forward to trivia with your friends tonight. It's another chance to see Jean – another chance to get your hopes up. And you fear you've already gotten them up far too high. Maybe you shouldn't go.

You pull out your phone to find a few unread texts from Sasha that you've purposely ignored.

You should've woken me up this morning – I wanna know how it went last night with Jean!

Girl, do not leave me hanging!!

Spill. The. Tea.

If you don't spill soon I'm going straight to the horse's mouth. Hehe – get it??

Your stomach sinks down to your feet. You twist back and forth in your chair behind the clinic check-in desk. It's hard to let Sasha down.

It was fun. But I don't think he likes me like that. He's just flirty.

She responds immediately.

Girl please. I have never seen Jean be “just flirty” with anyone. You and I both know who he's going to try to sit next to at trivia tonight.

Releasing a sigh, you lean back in your chair. For once, you really don't have the mental energy to hang out with your friends. Missing one night shouldn't be a big deal, right? Everyone missed one every once in a while.

Actually, I don't know if I'll go tonight. I'm pretty tired.

What?? Pleeeeease :) it's more fun with you! :)

An uncontrollable smile spreads across your face. Sasha is all too persuasive, or maybe you're too persuadable. After Historia moved out, you dreaded evenings and weekends without any friends to hang out with. But it didn't take long for Sasha to plead with you to come to trivia with her friends and rave about how much she loved your company. It's nice to know someone wants you there – even if it's not Jean.

Maybe I'll take a nap before.

Yay! I'm working late so I'll head straight to the bar straight after. See you there :)

~ ~ ~

You lie on your bed, phone up to your ear in one hand and your other hand is gesticulating up to the ceiling.

“What does he want from me?” You demand from your best friend even though she's just as clueless as you. “I mean, we kiss the first night we hang out, he paints a fucking picture of me, he practically takes me out on a date – but nothing since that first kiss. Who does that?”

“Well,” Historia says your name in her soft voice, “you know, you've been. . .”

“What?” You demand.

“It's just um. . .oh, don't make me say it!”

“C'mon Historia.” You flip over to your stomach. “You know you can tell me anything. Hit me with it.”

“Well, you've kinda been doing the same thing. Giving mixed signals. You haven't made a move with Jean either, have you? Not since you went to see the ice sculptures?”

Your body tenses. Historia is right. You're just as guilty.

“No,” you answer with force. “I think I used up my bold moves that night.”

“What if you just tell him how you feel?”

“What if I just walk into five lanes of traffic?”

Historia says your name in an exasperated tone.

“What! It'd basically be the same feeling,” you defend.

“You asked my opinion and I gave it.”

“Ugh, yeah I know. It's almost unfair how much Ymir has rubbed off on you.” Historia rarely called you out on your bullshit, so when she did, you knew it was real. You look at your watch. 6:30 pm. You should be walking to trivia now. “Look, I gotta go. I'll catch up with you later?”

“Sure. Just remember – you deserve better. You don't have to take table scraps from anyone.”

You cringe, knowing exactly what Historia is referencing. She held you while you cried after the guy you dated for a year in college dumped you out of the blue because he “just didn't see a future together.” It should've been obvious from the beginning since he hardly ever made an effort to see you. Though it was a couple years ago, the old wound still aches sometimes. Historia and Ymir were your emotional stitches, but there was still a scar.

“Yeah, I know,” you say softly. “Anyways. Say hi to Ymir for me?”

“Always,” Historia says.

~ ~ ~

You rush through the bar doors knowing you're a little late. Trivia hasn't started yet, but all of your new friends are already seated with a drink in front of them. A few perk up to wave and greet you.

“Sorry guys!” You apologize and unwrap your scarf. Trost has slowly been warming up but it's still snowing. You're a little sweaty from running over despite the cold.

“No worries, saved you a seat!” Sasha leans back to wave at you from the middle of the table.

“Thanks,” you breath and take off your hat. You attempt to smooth down your hair while you take a seat next to Sasha. You turn to your left and -

It's Jean.

Of course. Sasha purposely saved you a seat between her and Jean.

Jean is wearing a light purple t-shirt. You've never seen him in a t-shirt before. His biceps are well defined and somehow still tanned despite it being winter.

“You good?” He asks you and tilts his head. You blush, not realizing how hard you were staring.

“Yeah, you uh, have paint on your shirt.” You poke a yellow splotch on his chest and wonder if his chest is as well defined as his biceps. And maybe something else is well defined – no no no, lord, grant me the strength to stop my unholy thoughts, you pray, though you've never been religious.

“Ah, shit.” Jean looks down and dabs the yellow splotch. “It's already dry.”

“Must've been a good time at the studio today?” You ask, attempting to clear your head.

“Yeah, really good,” he nods. “Actually,” he pauses and bites his bottom lip. He finally makes eye contact with you. “Would you mind coming to the studio sometime soon? Maybe tomorrow or Saturday? I have an idea.”

You raise your eyebrows. “And you need me?”

“Yes.” Jean nods with force. “I figured I should ask this time.”

“Oh.” Surprise ripples through your body. Is Jean asking to paint you? You're flustered, unsure how to respond. On one hand, it's flattering that he wants to use you for inspiration again – and involve you. On the other, it seems far too romantic for “friends.”

Pink flushes Jean's face as he waits for you to respond more. “Ah, never mind, it's a dumb idea.” He waves. “You don't have to.”

“No, I uh -”

“Hey everyone!” Eren calls the group to attention. He sits directly across from Jean. “I want to make a toast.” He wraps his arm around Mikasa, who leans into him and smiles. Her black hair falls like a curtain over half her face. Eren raises his drink in the air and waits for everyone else to follow his motion. “To my beautiful girlfriend Mikasa, whose birthday is tomorrow. And – we just celebrated our one-year anniversary. I wouldn't have gotten the guts to finally ask her out if it weren't for you all.”

Your friends give a mix of cheering and “awww.”

“Get a room already!” Connie berates the couple.

You grab the glass of water in front of you and raise it in celebration.

But you notice Eren isn't gazing back at Mikasa like you'd expect. No, his green eyes are piercing straight ahead.

At Jean.

Who is staring right back at Eren. Jean's fist shakes under the table, out of sight for everyone except you.

And in that moment, you realize.

Eren's toast isn't meant to praise Mikasa, though that's how almost everyone was interpreting it. No, it's a taunt.

For Jean.

Who nearly blew up when you two ran into Eren and Mikasa at the ice sculptures. Who insisted you were friends. Who backed away from you after the wine bar.

A burning question crashes down on you.

Does Jean has a thing for Mikasa?

Is that why he's avoided a second kiss?

Your stomach twists and stings. You take a small sip of your water as everyone says “cheers” and wishes Mikasa a happy birthday.

Jean's eyes wander over to you. He puts his beer down.

“Oh hey, you're missing a drink,” he points out. He licks a bit of foam off his upper lip. “Can I grab you anything?” He jabs his thumb at the bar behind him.

“No, I don't want anything,” you say and cross your arms. Jean raises his eyebrows at your curt, yet polite tone.

“Ah, okay.” He turns away and chats with Reiner on his other side. You're actually dying for a drink. Something to dull your senses would be fantastic, but you sit through all the trivia rounds without getting anything out of sheer stubborn will.

It's not about the drink, of course.

Jean doesn't try to talk to you again. It's as if you've built a wall in between the two of you.

And that's how it should be. How it needs to be. You can't delude yourself any longer.

You and Jean are just friends.

Just. Friends.

~ ~ ~

Connie is once again crashing your weekly movie night with Sasha. Though the two of you don't mind too much, you have one rule for Connie: no complaining about the movie choice.

“The Devil Wears Prada? Haven't you seen this a million times?” Connie holds up the battered DVD case like it's the sandwich Sasha forgot under the couch last week.

“Uh uh uh!” You wag the knife you're using to cut green bell peppers at him. “You know the rules, no complaining about our movie choice.”

“Especially since you weren't even invited,” Sasha's voice drips with acid as she gives him the side eye. Beside you, she continues rolling out the pizza dough. Friday night movie nights were your idea – a relaxing night in to recover after the chaos of Thursday night trivia with your new friends.

“Alright, fine fine.” Connie collapses into the couch cushions. “Why do you two like this movie so much anyways?”

“Because!” You erupt, throwing your hands in the air, one of them still wielding the knife. “It's the early 2000s rise of girl boss feminism. Miranda, who symbolizes white girl capitalism, is made out to be the main villain. She is a villain, but the real one, the one we didn't see when we were young, naive girls is Nate – the evil boyfriend who hates Andie for exploring fashion and her feminine side. But!” You pause for dramatic effect. “Andie is also a problem as she trades her relationships for capitalist success. In this essay I will. . .” you trail off and smirk.

“Sheesh,” Connie mutters. “Didn't realize this was an English class. No wonder you and Jean get along.”

“You don't have to be here,” you remind him and ignore the comment about Jean.

“Ugh. Lemme see what our dear Jeanboy is doing tonight.” At the mention of Jean's name, you peer over to watch Connie pull out his phone while you slice another bell pepper.

A sharp sting rips through your thumb.

“Agh!” You yell and pull your thumb away from the knife and cutting board. Distracted by the mention of Jean, you had sliced your thumb instead of the pepper. Sasha grabs a wad of paper towels and hands them to you. You squeeze down on your thumb and blood soaks through the paper towels.

“You good?” Sasha places an arm around you and guides you to sit on the couch next to Connie.

“I think so?” You answer, but your shaking voice tells another story.

“Let's see. . .” Sasha peels back the bloody wad with a gentle touch to reveal a deep cut. Your skin is split wide open and gushes blood.

“Yuck.” Connie leaps off the couch. “That looks nasty. Want me to call Marco? I don't think he's working tonight.”

You shrug, unsure if your cut actually needs stitches. Connie dials up Marco regardless of your indecision.

“Hey Marco – we need your man nurse skills . . .what, no! Not for me.” He clarifies that it's for you.

“Is this a regular occurrence?” You ask Sasha.

“Connie has abused Marco's skills so many times,” she laughs. “He refuses to help him anymore. You're a first timer though, so I'll bet anything he'll be over soon.”

Sure enough, Connie announces that Marco will be over in a few minutes.

“Anyways,” he flops back onto the couch, “I'll stick around until then at least.”

“Good call, literally,” you say.

Your mind wanders back to the reason you were so distracted. Heat rises to your face as you realize these are the safest people to ask what you've been wondering about Jean – and Mikasa.

“Hey. . . can I ask you guys something?”

“Sure!” Sasha beams and wraps another layer of paper towels around your thumb. Connie scrolls aimlessly through Instagram.

“About Jean . . . did he and Mikasa ever. . .you know?” You dance around your question, unsure of how to phrase it. Connie's head jerks up. Your heart pounds in anticipation. Did they date? Did they fuck? You gnaw on the inside of your cheek.

“Mmm, I'm not really sure,” Sasha muses and avoids eye contact. “Jean definitely had a thing for her when they met a couple years ago, but obviously nothing came of it.”

“But nothing happened – at all?” You press.

“Jeanboy doesn't kiss and tell,” Connie sighs. “I asked him once and he almost punched me. So if something did happen, we don't know. He's no fun.”

“Maybe you could ask Marco?” Sasha lightens up. “Those two have been tight forever. He's the only one that would know for sure.”

*knock knock*

“Speak of the devil,” Connie says and gets up to grab the door. “Marco, you've come to save her from bleeding out!”

Marco steps through the door with a small kit in hand.

“Hey,” Marco breathes your name and shivers from the lingering cold. “What happened?” He asks as he strips off his coat. Red from the bitter cold is spread across his freckled face.

“I uh, had an incident with a knife,” you explain and hold out your thumb. Marco walks over to you and Sasha on the couch. You realize he's almost as tall as Jean because as he kneels in front of you, he can still make level eye contact. With a gentle touch, he peels back the paper towel to reveal your wound.

“Yikes,” he frowns, “you're definitely going to need stitches.”

You involuntarily cringe.

“Alright, two options,” Marco continues and sits back on his heels. “I can take you to the urgent care I work at, or if you really trust me, we can do it here.”

“Ten out of ten recommend Doctor Marco!” Connie yells from the kitchen as he rifles through the cupboard for snacks.

“Not a doctor,” Marco mutters and shakes his head. “Anyways, I can do stitches in my sleep, but I can understand if you'd rather go to urgent care.”

“No, I trust you. Plus, I really don't fee like dropping a couple hundred dollars on stitches.” Ironically, the clinic you worked at didn't offer a very good health insurance plan.

“Sounds good,” Marco smiles. “Bathroom okay?”

“Yep.” You stand up and “Woah. . .”

Purple dots cloud your vision. Cotton balls fill your ears.

“Easy there.” Marco grabs your waist to steady you. “Hey Sasha? Connie? Can you go grab her some Gatorade or something?”

“On it!” Sasha jumps off the coach and grabs her purple puffy coat. At the same time, Connie whines, “But it's cold and dark out there!”

“C'mon.” Sasha grabs Connie and drags him to the front door. “Our comrade needs our help.”

“Fine,” he mutters and throws his coat on. “Good luck, you better still be alive when we come back.”

You wave to your friends as they leave.

“What's the Gatorade for?” You ask and steady yourself as your vision restores.

“Mostly to get those two outta here, they're kinda distracting.” Marco rubs the nape of his neck. “But you do also look a little pale. Some sugar and electrolytes should help with that.”

Marco grabs two chairs from the kitchen and places them in front of the bathroom sink.

“This shouldn't take too long. First, let's clean it,” he explains and takes out a packet of antiseptic wipes from his kit. He dabs your wound with a wipe and it instantly stings. You hiss and clench your fist. “That's the worst part – and it's over. Do you normally get squeamish around blood?”

“It's not really the blood,” you explain. “It's more like the anticipation.”

“Ah, anxiety?” He asks and prepares for the stitches. “Armin's like that too,” he chuckles. “He practically passed out during our first nursing rotations in school.”

“Wait, Armin was in nursing school with you?” You raise your eyebrows.

“Nursing school yes, but different ones. We were in the same rotation at the hospital though, that's how we met. I invited him to hang out with us and he brought Eren and Mikasa. That's how we all became friends. Armin ended up on the research of side of things instead, which he's much more suited for. He's brilliant. Oh – you might want to put your head down or look away for this.” Marco pauses and gives you a serious look. “It won't hurt much, but we can't have you passing out.”

“Oh, sure.” You comply and turn your head away, placing your chin on your free hand.

“So that means you all met what – your senior year?”

“Yep.” Marco idly confirms. You feel a gentle tugging on your skin.

“Marco . . . can I ask you a question? A personal one?” The tugging on your skin stops. “Not about you though,” you quickly explain.

“Oh.” The tugging resumes. “Sure.” The question burns on your lips.

“Did anything ever happen between Jean and Mikasa?” The burning on your lips blazes to your cheeks.

“Ah.” Marco clears his throat. “I thought you might ask about that.”

“Really?” Surprise ripples through your body.

“Yeah, Jean's been talking about you a lot lately. I figured something was going on. Anyways. . .” he trails off, concentrating on your last two stitches. “What I can tell you is that Jean was really into her when they first met at that party I mentioned.”

Your stomach turns.

“And did anything ever come of it?”

Marco hesitates.

“Look, I don't know if I should be sharing this with anyone -”

“Please, Marco?” You turn and plead with his light brown eyes. You're so desperate for information that a confession doesn't even phase you. “I like him. And I need to know. . . if he's hung up on someone else. I don't want to waste my time. Or get hurt. Please?”

Marco sighs. “Alright. They went on a date. One date.” He finishes off the stitches and avoids eye contact with you. “Jean asked and she said yes. He didn't tell me a ton, but he came home really happy that night. A couple days later, we all hear that Mikasa and Eren are officially a couple. I asked Jean what happened and he just growled at me. That's all I know.”

Your jaw actually drops. You stare at Marco open mouthed. You barely register that he's done with the stitches as he puts his supplies away. “So she went on a date with Jean and then immediately started dating Eren??”

Marco whips back over to look at you. “Oh, but please don't think poorly of Mikasa! She's not a bad person.” Now it's his turn to plead with you.

You remain silent. It's almost unthinkable. Admittedly you don't know Mikasa very well, but she's always seemed like a kind, introverted soul. What would posses her to do something like that? Flashes of anger heat your body despite Marco's insistence. That must've really hurt Jean.

“You really don't know what happened? Nothing at all?” You press your lips together in a tight line.

“No,” Marco shakes his head and stands up. “I wish I did. Jean was pretty bent out of shape about it for a while, but he's not exactly the kind to easily share his feelings.”

“You got that right,” you huff. “Be honest with me – do you think I'm wasting my time with Jean?”

Marco pauses in thought. He leans against the sink and crosses his arms. “No, not exactly.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I get the sense he likes you,” he smiles. “But,” his smile disappears, “I gotta be honest, I couldn't say if he's over Mikasa. It's been about a year, so maybe, but like I said, I don't even know everything that happened.” He shrugs. “But I think it's worth talking to Jean about it. Ask him and he'll probably be more honest with you than with me.”

“Sure,” you nod slowly. “It's just that. . . feelings are hard.” Your gaze lingers on your newly stitched up thumb. Telling Jean you like him and asking about Mikasa feels on par with ripping out your new stitches. And pouring more alcohol into the wound.

“Yeah, I get that,” Marco agrees. “I guess it depends on how much he's worth it to you.”

~ ~ ~

The movie night is a perfect distraction from the ulcer growing in your stomach from thinking about Jean. You and Sasha cackle throughout the movie, quoting lines from memory and imitating Miranda's stern look.

“I love my job, I love my job, I love my job.”

“CERULEAN!!”

“Florals? For spring? Groundbreaking.”

Despite Connie's griping, he stays the entire time and as per usual, falls asleep on your couch. After the movie, you crawl into bed and check your phone.

You have an unread text from Jean.

See you tomorrow morning?

You groan. Tomorrow is your scheduled Saturday morning creative date with Jean. Not date, you correct yourself. Your mind wanders back to what Marco said. Was figuring out what's up with Jean worth it to you? With the way he looked at Mikasa and his frustration with Eren, it seemed like he wasn't over what happened – dangerous territory. You weren't in too deep now, you try to convince yourself. You only kissed once. And sure, you're crushing, but crushes fade. You chew on the inside of your cheek, unsure of how to proceed. So you choose to avoid.

I'll have to sit this one out, not feeling great :/

Technically it's the truth. You don't think you'll get much writing done with Jean across the table from you. And you don't feel great – mentally or physically. Overthinking was getting exhausting, and your stitches were aching despite the pain killers Marco gave you. Your phone buzzes.

Ah, that's right, Marco told me about the stitches. That sucks! Do you need anything?

Nope, Sasha's got me covered. Don't need anything.

~ ~ ~

The next few days move at, well – a glacial pace.

You don't write at all.

Your wound under the stitches aches.

You think about Jean and Mikasa the entire time.

On Monday, Jean texts you an interesting article about world building, but you don't respond. In truth, you're dying to talk with him again. You don't realize how much you enjoy his company until you skip your creative date. You miss talking about art and writing with him. You miss that he takes it seriously in a way that your other friends didn't. You miss how open you could be with each other – well, for the most part.

You're taking your lunch break on Wednesday when you get another text from Jean.

Hey, you feeling better? Up for wine and writing/art tonight?

You sigh and tap your fingers over and over again on the table. Maybe the best decision is to cut it off now. The last time you admitted vulnerability, it didn't so well.

After months of dating that guy on your floor in college, you grew tired of only seeing him on his terms. You never felt like you could ask to see him. You were always waiting for him to text you. You even canceled plans with Historia in hopes that he might want to do something. You hated it. You began to hate yourself for how pathetic you became.

So you told him. You told him how you wanted to see each other more. You wanted to actually build a relationship, not just hang out with someone at parties on weekends. Your face burned and your voice shook, but you were proud of yourself for standing up for once.

And then he broke up with you. Right then and there.

And that was it.

You pull yourself back to the present moment and text Jean back.

I have plans tonight, sorry.

Text bubbles pop up and you brace yourself for impact.

Oh, okay.

Your stomach drops. You turn your phone off and shove the rest of your lunch back in the staff fridge. You're being rude to Jean, you know it. You hate yourself for it.

But this is for the best.

~ ~ ~

Once work is finally over, you hop on the train home and stop by the local liquor store. You might not be getting wine with Jean tonight, but you sure as hell want a glass of wine. Or two. Or three. Anything to get Jean off your mind. And with Sasha out tonight with Nicolo, you need a distraction.

As you walk toward the store, you admire at the blush pink sunset. Mid-February is still freezing in Trost, but at least it's now light when you get home, albeit just barely.

You mindlessly roam the aisles until you find the boxed wine section. In college, you and Historia always opted for boxes over bottles. It was the economically smart decision and neither of you were well versed enough in wine to tell much of a difference between a box and a fancy bottle.

Although you prefer a chardonnay, you grab a pink wine knowing that it's Sasha's favorite.

A large hand clamps down on your wrist as you're mere inches away from the box.

“C'mon, you are breaking my heart with that.” You jerk your head up to see what stranger has rudely interrupted you.

But it's no stranger.

It's Jean.

You are quite literally caught red-handed. Or pink-handed.

Despite your internal insistence that you are just friends, that you need to avoid Jean, your heart leaps with affection at the sight of him in his parka and knitted hat. Then your heart squeezes tight with guilt when you remember that you canceled on him tonight – and here you are, at the liquor store getting ready for a night alone.

“Hey, nothing wrong with box wine,” you grin in spite of yourself. You can't help smiling in his presence.

“There is everything wrong with box wine,” Jean groans and tilts his head back, exposing a glimpse of his throat. “I gotta have you over sometime and re-educate you since apparently the wine bar wasn't enough.”

You offer a noncommittal smile in return. “Anyways,” you clear your throat and give your captured wrist a pointed look. Jean releases his grip and you grab the pink box wine. “I gotta get going.”

“Oh, that's right.” Jean adjusts his winter hat, which fails to cover up his lengthening hair. “So uh – what are you up to tonight?”

“Girl's night with Sasha,” you blurt. It's the first thing you think of since she's part of the reason you're getting the pink wine.

Jean frowns. “Doesn't she have a date with Nicolo tonight? He's been telling me for weeks about this concert they're going to tonight.”

“Oh um. . . “ you trail off. Your entire body is frozen like you've stepped outside, blasted by Trost's bitter winter season. Once again, you're caught. You fumble and stutter, struggling to come up with another excuse.

The hurt flashing in Jean's hazel eyes cuts through you like the knife to your thumb. He sees right through your lie.

“Ah.” He rocks back on his heels. “Got it.” He nods and swallows. “Message received.” He turns on his heels and walks away from you.

Desperation surges through your body. You've wounded him, and you want to stitch it up.

“Jean, wait! I didn't mean -” Your protests are useless. Jean has left the liquor store empty handed.

Shit.

You make a bee line to the register to pay for your box wine.

Maybe it'll be four glasses tonight.

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hippolotamus · 5 months

Text

fic writer interview

tagged by @stereopticons @jesuisici33 😘

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

47 (!)

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

268,610 (!!)

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

I'm weaker than a man should be [Buddie | 1.8k | T]

I could get used to having you around [Buddie | 2.8k | T]

My favorite color is you [Buddie | 4.1k | E]

There are some things you know (but things you can't understand) [Buddie | 15.1k | T]

i wish you all the love you're looking for, darling [Buddie | 1k | T]

4. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes! (Unless they're hateful) It can take me a while but I do eventually. I think it's important to do so. I appreciate everyone who takes the time to read what I've written and leave their thoughts.

5. What’s the fic you’ve written with the angstiest ending?

with eyes wide open i tore you apart [Buddie | 377 | G] just because of unresolved angst/tension

Warm Hellos and Our Last Goodnights [David/Patrick | 4.4k | T] for the MCD factor (though I still think of it as a love story)

6. What’s the fic you’ve written with the happiest ending?

Uhhh, quite a few of them? If I had to pick one I would go with Whatever may come (your heart I will choose) [Buddie | 77.4k | M]

7. Do you write crossovers?

I haven't written one, but I'm not opposed if the right idea comes along.

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Not hate so much as some odd or rude comments.

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

I do! aslkdjfsld IDEK what to call it. There's always feels. No matter how much I try, it's impossible to write straight up smut. I think the closest I've ever managed is What's your Fantasy? [David/Patrick | 1.3k | E] or stay here honey (i don't wanna share) [Lutalia | 1.8k | E]

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I know of

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but I'd be open to it

12. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Yes! Could you love the ocean with me? [Buddie | 1.7k | T] co-written with my beloved @shortsighted-owl

Also planning some collaboration with @pirrusstuff for livestock vet!Buck/cowboy!Eddie

13. What’s your all-time favorite ship?

First of all, rude. I cannot choose between the ships I already write for so I'm going to say Carson Shaw/Greta Gill from ALOTO (2022 mini series RIP my broken heart)

14. What’s a WIP that you want to finish but don’t think you ever will?

IDK, I kinda stubbornly never say die on my WIPs because you never know when the right combination of inspiration and time will hit, suddenly enabling you to finish something.

15. What are your writing strengths?

People tell me they like the details I include. I also like to think I'm good at getting into a character's head and delving into the Feels.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Balancing dialogue and description. When I'm writing I feel like I can make the characters talk or I can get lost in their thoughts/get really in the weeds about their surroundings. It doesn't help that I'm not a fan of writing dialogue anyway.

17. What are your thoughts on writing dialogue in other languages in a fic?

Nothing I'm super ambitious to do. Writing dialogue in my native language isn't a favorite thing, so it would have to be a crucial part of the story for me to consider it.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Schitt's Creek

19. What’s a fandom/ship you haven’t written for yet but want to?

I've done a few tumblr based drabbles, but I would like to officially write for Tim/Hawk from Fellow Travelers.

20. What’s your favorite fic you’ve written?

My favorite??? As in just one? Jail! Jail for a thousand years to you!

High Like Heaven [David/Patrick | 2.1k | T]

all in the Jee-tails [married Buddie | 4.5k | T]

Secrets & Lies [David/Patrick | 7.6k | E] Series

Also very in love with 2 of my WIPs that I feel will become favorites when they're published:

you're where i wanna go [Buddie]

with my heart in my lap [Twylexis]

no pressure tagging mi amor @disasterbuckdiaz @blackandwhiteandrose @vanillahigh00 @shortsighted-owl @eddiebabygirldiaz @giddyupbuck LOML @lizzie-bennetdarcy @rmd-writes @apothecarose @ladydorian05 @watchyourbuck @jamespearce9-1-1 @wikiangela @honestlydarkprincess @pirrusstuff @spotsandsocks @monsterrae1 @buddierights @daffi-990 @thewolvesof1998 @heartshapedvows @loserdiaz and anyone else who wants to

#as usual if i forgot to tag you no i didn't #tag games #about me

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theinsanecrayonbox · 1 year

Text

well, since i've seen the page in the tags, i guess i can talk about the reveal of who "GC" is in Sabretooth/Exiles #4 (i’ll throw it under a cut though for spoilers cause i wanna try to be nice; i know not everyone doesn’t care about spoilers like i do)

who was it?

Graydon Creed

am i upset by this because it was sort of obvious? am i upset by this because the last time we saw Graydon, Victor had pulled him out of hell, sacrificing his own life and willpower to do so?

no...no idts. at the time of reading i wasn’t sure, and after sitting on it a few days, i’m still “meh *noncommittal shrug*” but i think i’m not. on the one hand, it’s very clear that Lavalle read Death Hunt as homework for this, what with all the references and Birdy in the first half (which is not surprising since it is the best solo Sabretooth mini series); and since this series has kinda been pointing out Victor’s greatest failures that do haunt him/contrasting what makes the man and the beast, bringing up his son does actually make sense. i was kinda hoping that maybe being pulled from hell would’ve kicked Graydon in the butt enough to be less terrible than he used to be...and eh, i guess kinda? he’s now in league with genetic manipulation, when before he was just all “rah rah purity of humanity” so, slight change?? and Graydon has always been terrible, so since we reset Victor’s character growth by ignoring the second half of Weapon X-Force, it’s par for the course to ignore him rescuing Graydon too i guess. though one would question how a previously long standing dead man had the funds to contract out Orchis....also one wonders where’s Birdy since she was supposedly respawned at the end of the first half

ANYWHOS! it’s revealed as Graydon, and that he’s been hunting multiverse versions of his father. Graydon, the one consistent thing in all incarnations is his daddy issues lol. one wonders how or why really...probably won’t be adequately explained considering there’s only 1 issue left for this story.

but onto the more fun part that i alluded to in my other post; lets play “Who’s that Sabretooth”. here’s a numbered version for easier reference;

even with the wiki up, i’m not really recognizing any of these.

#7 looks like the good guy/blind and one handed clone from X-Men Forever (it’s the triangle face).

#9 does resemble Liev Schreiber i admit...but it’s also clearly a black man and the only black Sabretooth i know is Miles’ dad from “What if Miles was Wolverine” and he was not a Victor Creed.

#13 looks to be a child version

#3 also looks child/teen to me, but the pale skin would suggest vampiric?

#14 looks like it might have the usual head guard (or maybe that’s heavy shadowing on the cheek)

i’m no all knowing expert, so feel free to weigh in. but again, the fact that none of them are easily or readily recognizable makes me wonder if they were just made up for this. that’s not necessarily a bad thing, since you know dead and all, but then again it’s eth multiverse just because you killed one alternate version doesn’t mean that was the only one of that specific kind. without the reader recognizing and connecting, it’s just a random display of heads for shock value...which yeah ok, that was the goal i give, but still.

#kp reads comics #kp rants about comics #Victor Creed #Sabretooth

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counterfics · 2 months

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DOWNSHIFTING BOUNDARIES PART 4.1 (FINAL)

♡ Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Sainz!Reader SMAU ♡ Requested: Yes | you can send in your own requests here <3 ♡ Warnings: Cussing, Name calling, Gossiping, Potential misspellings, Rushed text dialogue? Female reader, Reader being a bad bitch (If more let me know) ♡ Desc: Rumors are not new to the f1 community, but when a f1 gossip page digs into a certain driver’s life and puts details of their private life on blast it starts to become an issue. With fans coming to their own conclusions and developing their own stories how will their relationship prevail through it? What new information about the driver and his personal relationship will be revealed to the public? Keeping boundaries up between you and your fans is quite a difficult task that Charles soon realizes. ♡ Notes: Please feel free to interact, and tell me what you think of the series! It really helps boost my confidence!! Also don’t feel shy to send asks or just talk to me i'm in need of mutuals and more ideas to create!! This is the final of the series, might add more mini blurbs here and there for it but no more big parts, so send in ideas for more things to write please!!! I was really happy with how I planned out part 3 and 4 in my notes honestly its pretty funny, if yall wanna see my thought process lmk LOL. I kinda feel like the ending was rushed so I apologize ♡ Guide: f1 masterlist | part 1 | part 2 | part 3 | part 4.1 | part 4.2 FINAL

PART 4.1

♡ DO NOT STEAL, TRANSLATE, OR COPY MY WORK ONTO ANY OTHER PLATFORM !! ♡ main masterlist | f1 masterlist | Inbox | previous part | series masterlist ♡ sidenotes: I have made a forum that you can fill out to be added into taglists in general, you can still request to be added via asks, etc.. also thank you all for following the series so far it really means a lot to me! This finally got me back in the spirit to look forward to making things and writing again! Please reach out with ideas or just for a chat as I am lonely and need to keep myself occupied and busy! ♡ Taglist: [Some could'nt be tagged, you can fill out this form to be added to a general taglist if you would like since this is the final part of the series!] @stinkyjax @thef1diary @a-beaverhausen @ireadthensuetheauthors @dutifullyannoyingfox @ushygushybaby @janeholt3 @obsessedovermadrid @bokutos-babyowl @multi-fandom-fan221b @shiftermeance @mxdi0 @d3kstar @boiohboii @pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy @loloekie

#counterfics #.formula1 #formula one x reader #f1 x reader #f1 smau #f1 series #f1 scenario #f1 imagine #formula one #formula racing #social media au #charles leclerc x y/n #charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smau #charles lecrelc #carlos sainz #lando norris #sainz!reader

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mcnuggyy · 2 years

Note

Pretty please please please infodump about cryptid♡crush I want to know everything you're willing to share

I feel like I’m so bad at talking about my guys unless I get a specific question that jumpstarts me into not being able to shut the fuck up about them LMAO 😭 but I really don’t wanna share anything plot related cause I wanna keep it a nice little surprise for when I actually make the comic and stuff <3

i will try my best tho to try and talk about it as much as I can!!! putting it under the readmore and also cw: sex and kinks and stuff obvi lol

but I have been thinking more and more about what kind of themes and kinks and topics I wanna explore with each volume along with the specific “monster of that week” of course I got overarching themes with queerness and transness and finding comfort in others who also feel othered by society and stuff but that’s to be expected LMAO.

I also think it’s funny to think about what kinks each character would have 😭 cause I mean cmon it’s a nsfw comic series LOL, but that also means realizing sometimes these guys are into things I’m really not into but I know in my heart they would be BAHAHA, I’ve also been thinking of like super fun threesome ideas and fun dynamics for the monster characters to have between themselves jeje like I really like Mia and Estrellas dynamic and in general Mia fawning over every single girl/girl adjacent character he meets fjfjfjf. Or Rev getting a crush on Max cause he really is so handsome and very sweet and cute and loves Fern just as much as it does but Rev is such a tsundere about it LMAO.

GOD I have this idea of a stupid threesome where it’s Rev, Fern, and Mariano but Mariano has possessed Fern and Fern has hooked themself up to Rev so it can feel what he feels and basically it’s just Fern fucking jerking himself off but Mariano and Rev can feel it too and idk why that’s sooooo epic and cool and hot to me but it is and I think it would be soooo fun to do a mini comic about that

I do also wanna do a Fern/Anika mini comic exploring her uh… omo kink, cause in the main story I probably won’t have any time at all to explore it, but if I do I would want to delve more into it just cause there’s so much fun stuff I can do with it jeje. I’m so excited to do so many little mini comics, also I think it’s fine if I talk about them cause they’re kinda separate from the plot a bit <3 though the first season probably won’t have too much plot asides from some small stuff here and there since I wanna establish the world and what certain characters roles are in the story!

Most importantly Rev and Estrella since they’re kinda the science/magic go to’s for Fern and will end up helping a lot with his adventures :-] The alien team and Max are also a part of that with aliens providing cool alien tech when needed and Max being a good moral support, everyone deserves a sweet werewolf bf who always has ur back ykno <3

I really do wanna have something for everyone so if this series cast does end up getting even bigger then so be it <333 LMAO

ALSO FOR A MINI COMIC IVE BEEN DYINGGG at the idea of an all girls (kinda) sleepover with like Mia, Anika, Kacee, Eliya, Slasher, and MAYBEEEE Fry and Frankie too (but they would just be making out constantly in the bg tbh LMAO), they would play like spin the bottle and get naked and be stupid and just have fun and also I think Mia would go crazy at the idea of hanging out with any of these hot people so it would fucking rule for him and he deserves it <3 and also I think it would just be a really fun dynamic hehe

I also would love to see other people ship whatever characters they want idc idc <3 it’s all fun and games and they’re all bisexual and polyamorous have fun with it lmaoo but anyways

Idk what else to say except ummm gay sex makes the world go round and I love my silly guys and I really hope I can make this comic a reality once I finish Primavera <33

But if you have any specific questions about any of the characters I don’t mind answering as long as it avoids any potential spoilers jaja <3

#callate guero #replies #anonymous #cryptid♡crush #not sfw

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my-name-is-jefferooni · 8 months

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I LOVE IDW Issue 65 (SPOILERS!! SPOILERS SPOILERS!!!!!!)

Out of all the people in this entire world to knock over that table... It was Espio. I literally cannot be happier.

SO! I just finished reading the newest IDW issue, and I kinda wanna address something that I've heard a few people point out ever since Evan Stanley took over as the head writer. This is not meant to criticize anyone or favor anybody over anyone else. I'm just stating my thoughts on this "Controversy."

Essentially what I've heard from a few people, is that they've noticed that Evan is taking a slower approach in terms of story for the comic. Compared to Ian Flinn, who managed to get the Metal Virus saga done in like 18 issues, Evan's writing style is far slower in terms of pacing, given how we haven't really reached much of an ending to the current arc. I guess there was that little mini "Imposter Syndrome" arc that started after the mini series, and that wrapped itself up pretty quickly. But other than that and a couple big events that happened after the Virus, things have been moving kinda slow.

People tend to see this as a bad thing, especially since Ian Flynn would've previously wrapped up all of this in a matter of like. 20 issues probably. idk actually I don't work in the comic industry yet. But to me? I see this as an amazing thing!

I do have to agree that the pacing is relatively slower than how it was with Ian behind the wheel, and it's especially noticeable with the more recent issues where we have 2 stories in one and they're always split apart. To me, that last part can be solved by just. Not doing it...? Like, I think it would be easier for the reader if the full story was in one issue instead of 2, but in terms of the plot, it makes sense. Everything is kinda just happened all at once, so it would make more sense from an in-universe standpoint to mash them all together like Evan's been doing. So even though it's just me kinda nit-picking, that's my only gripe.

As for the slow pacing, I actually really enjoy it! We now get a chance to read more dialogue, see the characters do things, watch them just be with each other... Take the very quick scene from issue 65 where Knuckles and Vector are discussing the missing artifacts. Just... Just look at how Knuckles and Vector talk to each other. They're very easygoing, very understanding of each other, but at the same time they're also very different attitude-wise. Vector doesn't even flinch at Knuckles's little outburst, and that's how you can tell that the two have known each other for a long time and are very safe with each other.

And just. Just look at the first like 2 pages. These 4 are a family unit and you cannot change my mind.

I honestly just adore seeing characters take a break on-screen and use that time to talk to each other. I enjoy seeing like 3-page scenes like these where the characters just hang out with each other. Bits like these are how you really dig into the personalities and insecurities of the character's you've learned to love, and it allows for the reader to really resonate with them on a personal level. You think Sonic the Hedgehog is gonna be all buddy-buddy with Eggman on the battlefield? You think Knuckles is gonna have fun and laugh with Sonic while the two are constantly fighting against robots??

I mean. Probably. But my point is that when you have fast-paced writing like Ian's, you don't really get much of that time or space for any additional character growth/development. You don't get to see them in their day-to-day lives. You don't get to see what kind of drinks Vector likes, or what kind of artifact Knuckles treasures the most, or what the dynamic looks like between certain characters.

You don't get lines like these from Eggman with that kinda writing!

"I take whatever I want, whenever I want. I don't personally keep track of every little thing I procure in my conquests.

But why would I make the effort to hire the Babylon Rogues when I could just send my robots?

I don't know about it. I don't care about it! Now get out, you MORONS!"

See? This is why I love Evan's writing. She does such a great job establishing and building upon character beats and dynamics, and ties it all together with the pretty big bow known as her expert worldbuilding!

#I'm so sorry about how long this is especially without images. But it's like 9:30 PM rn and I don't wanna have to take multiple screenshots #just for this purpose. I wanna save storage. Not destroy it #Anywhizzle thanks for reading #idw sonic spoilers #never used that tag before and hopefully I'll remember to remove it in a week but for now it's there #Just in case #blog/ask stuff

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wroteasongabouther · 6 years

Text

Grumpy - A Harry Styles Imagine

PAIRING: Harry/Y/N

RATING: R

WORD COUNT: 16k (!!!!what!!!!!)

A/N: im really really sorry about my absences with my series but ive been writing this over the past while and quite like it so i really hope you all like it too xx feedback is always lovely

Harry’s smirk soon changes back to the usual scowl he had around you. His brows wound tight, green eyes narrowed to slits, while his mildly chapped lips formed a hard thin line. His one hand is holding up his towel while the other steadied himself, suppose it’d take a bit more than a hot shower to cure this hangover. Then before you can stop it, your eyes are drifting from the droplets in his hair to his wet chest. His towel is dangerously low, exposing his more defined v line and his treasure trail that leads to...

Harry clears his throat then, snapping you back to attention. There’s that smirk again. You raise a brow and mirror his smirk.

“Just checking there’s no new stupid tattoos,” you say, lying through your teeth. Harry knew it too. So you just roll your eyes again and turn on your heels. “Downstairs, twenty minutes,” you call over your shoulder before letting yourself out of his hotel room.

The one when Y/N works for Harry who has one bad attitude.

(Find the next parts here)

The sounds of empty bottles smacking into each other fills the hotel room as you finally swipe the card through and get the door open. You have to stop yourself before spewing out a string of curses and groans. The room is a wreck though. Empties littered across the floor, clothes in piles, and you notice some obvious feminine articles as well. You roll your eyes and round the corner where the bed was and as you thought so, it’s not just occupied by one naked body but two.

“Oh god,” you gasp, covering your eyes at the sight.

“What tha-“

“Oh my god! Didn’t you see the do not disturb sign Jesus Christ I’ll call the front desk and get you fired,” the young woman in the bed shouts as she pulls the covers over her body. Suppose she was in for a surprise when she realized you weren’t housekeeping.

��What are you thinking, Harry?” you question harshly, eyes ignoring the dumb blonde and focused on the squinting young man beside her.

“What are the doin’ in my room?”

“You were supposed to be at breakfast thirty minutes ago,” you state.

“Fuck,” he mumbles while sitting himself up now. Thankfully when the girl moved the covers, they ended up over his junk - not that you haven’t seen it before, just that you weren’t entirely a fan of seeing it. You roll your eyes again and cross your arms at your chest.

“Who are you?” the girl asks.

“Who are you?” You counter back, narrowing your eyes at her.

“Um, my name is...” she trails off and looks to Harry, “what did you say my name was again if someone asked?”

You snort, having to bring a hand to your lips in order to not put right laugh at this situation. He still had the same stupid plan even after all these years. Damn idiot, he was.

“Oh god, you’re not his girlfriend or something are you?” she gasps suddenly.

“Oh sweetie, if I was his girlfriend you’d be dead right now,” you exclaim with a smile. She sinks down into the mattress. “No, don’t get comfy, you’re leaving now,” you bark out the order while motioning with one hand for her to get out of the bed.

“I’m naked!”

“Then get dressed,”

“Oh my god, look away or something you fucking weirdo,”

You only roll your eyes again, turning around so your back was to the bed now. Harry grumbles, you hear him flop down into his bed again as his company gets out from the hotel bed. The girl gets dressed silently but after she’s down you hear her whisper something to Harry, which she only gets a grumbly ‘goodbye’ in response. She walks passed you, avoiding eye contact, but you follow right after her.

“Your phone,” you say while holding out your hand. The girl turns around at the threshold of the hotel room.

“It’s been off since I got up here,” she says.

You shake your head, “prove it,” you order.

She sighs, taking the iPhone from her pocket and hits the home button a few times. The screen stays black each time and you have no choice but to believe her. You stand straight then, narrowing your eyes at her. She looked rather rough, hair all over the place and black smudged down her face - not to mention her shirt was on backwards.

“Speak a word of this to anyone and you’ll pay for it. Post any sort of photo or video and you’ll pay for it. Just keep this night to yourself, dream about it, relish in the thought you fucked Harry Styles and then get over it. They all have to,” you say. Then with that, you shut the door in her face and turn back to handle the real problem at hand.

“Way to make me sound like a slut,” Harry mumbles.

“You are,” you state bluntly. Harry glares from where he lays in bed. His hair was all sorts of messed up too, but he kinda made it work you guessed, while his eyes were slightly bloodshot and he was squinting at the daylight peeking through the blinds. All of this was a sight you saw rather regularly. This was your job, laying right here, hungover as shit.

“Are you ever going to grow up, Harry?” you question. Harry let’s out a groan in response. “No, seriously, because I’ve been kicking nameless girls out of your fucking hotel room since you were 19 years old now. Isn’t it getting tired? Because I can tell you it is for me,”

“Then leave,” he utters.

“No,” you say and cross your arms at your chest again. “It’s my job, doesn’t mean I can’t complain about my job. You sure as hell do,”

“Yeah I do,” Harry resorts, lifting his head from the pillow to glare at you again. “Now fuckin’ leave, m’tired,”

Can you believe you roll your eyes again? Bloody idiot he was, thinking you’d just walk out and leave. You manoeuvre around the mess on the floor and walk into the bathroom, reaching into the shower to turn it on as hot as it can. As it steams up the room you organize Harry’s toiletries that way he has one less thing to complain about once he gets his ass in gear. When you return to the bedroom, Harry has actually made some process, eyes glued to his phone screen.

“Get in the shower,” you command him. “Now!” You shout this time.

Harry tosses his phone off to the side of the mattress, wraps a sheet around himself and gets out of bed. But of course he’s sporting his best piercing scowl while doing so. You simply return the icy look with a tight smile. Just as Harry steps into the bathroom, not bothering to shut the door, you phone buzzes. It’s Jeff texting you for an update on what’s happening. You reply with a short summary of your morning affairs, assuring him that his number one client was up and at it now.

“Don’t take your time, car leaves in 30,” you state while leaning against the doorway of the bathroom. The glass door for the shower is fogged up, but you can see Harry moving around thankfully. Some days he liked to just stand there and waste everyone’s time.

Harry doesn’t respond, so your eyes fall back to your phone screen. You decide to triple check the itinerary for today. The flight from Basel to Paris was close to two hours long which meant Harry would have plenty of time to sleep away his hangover.

“Why don’t you just quit if you complain about your job so much?” Harry asks, talking loudly over the sound of the shower.

“Cause it’s my job, has been forever now,” you sigh.

“I think it’s cause you love me,” Harry says. You can hear the smirk on his lips, and then as the water turns off and the shower door opens you look away for a moment till he’s got a towel on. Low and behold there’s that precious smirk of his.

“Oh yeah,” you taunt, “Who wouldn’t love a man with your drinking habits and all the whores too. Oh and that attitude, ugh, ta die for,” you swoon jokingly.

Harry clears his throat then, snapping you back to attention. There’s that smirk again. You raise a brow and mirror his smirk.

How you got the privilege to work for the less than lovely Harry Styles is beyond you. One day you were an intern at One Direction label, being offered to tag along on tour, and then the next thing you knew you were the one keeping all five boys in check. And you did your job well. Always professional, but can also be personal when needed too, and you got shit done. So when the band decided on their hiatus, you kept contact with them all - but everyone knew Harry was the one who needed your help the most. Liam and Louis had grown up and had kids, while Niall was never a worry to begin with, it was just Harry who was still lost. So when his new manager, Jeff, called you one day to offer you a job you knew you couldn’t decline and leave him to deal with the mess that was Harry. He only ever listened to you, therefore he needed you.

“He’s up?” Jeff asks as you approach the group standing near the lobby doors.

“Sure is, and hungover and grumpy and an asshole but what else is new,” you sigh and glance down at your phone as it buzzes in your hand. It’s Harry ordering a large black coffee before he gets down to the lobby. “Anyone want to come get some coffee with me?” You ask, eyeing up the band and few others standing by.

“I could use a tea,” Clare shrugs and follows after you.

“Grumpy needs a coffee,” you state as you push open the door to the breakfast lounge - for a lack of better words.

“Of course he does,” Clare chuckles, “he and Mitch were out late last night.”

“I know,” you nod.

She doesn’t respond as you pour the coffee into the cup, putting on a lid and a sleeve before pouring your own next. Once you’ve got three packets of sugar and one cream, you and Clare head back to the group. You’re not surprised to see you’re still waiting on Harry.

“I told him twenty minutes,” you say defensively when Jeff gives you a look.

“It’s been close to,” he states.

“I can only do so much, Jeff, can’t hold his damn hand anymore,” you huff and bring your coffee to your lips. Of course it’s too hot and burns your tongue a little.

As you look at the usual few that follow Harry on his drinking nights, you notice none of them look in as bad of shape as Harry did. Suppose they’re starting to realize they can’t keep up to a young rockstar with a drinking problem. Didn’t matter how many stories good old Tim the lead crew had from back in the day of him drinking, he was tapping out after three beers as Harry downs his fifth drink of the night. If Harry were to stop at five then that’d be a good night. His typical limit was ten. But most nights he liked to exceed that lately. The guys should’ve been around when it all started, 19 year old Harry was even worse somehow. Miller, his bodyguard since the beginning, could vouch for you.

“There you are,” Jeff exclaims as Harry makes his arrival. He’s dressed in a black t-shirt and blue slim fit jeans with some Vans upon his feet and sunglasses adoring his face to block the daylight from his sensitive eyes. A usual look.

“Coffee,” Harry grunts and grabs ahold of one of the coffee cups from your hands. Before you can tell him he took yours, he takes a large sip and his faces says it all.

“That’s mine,” you state, switching them between your hands to give him the black coffee this time. Harry immediately washes away the taste from your coffee with his own.

“We’re getting late, let’s move people,” Jeff shouts loud enough for the group traveling together to hear.

There’s one van and one car for the handful of you left to head to the next stop on tour - Paris, France. You were rather excited to be back in Paris. Meant you actually had the excuse to speak French. Which was one of the five languages you spoke fluently. But also Paris was Paris and if you weren’t excited to be there you’d be delusional.

“Helene, I need you to send me the best shots from last night please,” you call up to where the tour photographer sat front seat of the van.

“Just stage photos or backstage too?” she asks, looking through her laptop.

“Uh a few of both maybe,” you answer. Harry, who’s sitting beside you in the back seat of the van, shushes you harshly. Turning your head to look his way, you see his brows pulled down which could only mean he’s scowling behind those sunglasses he’s got on.

“Quit being so bloody loud,” he says.

“I’m not-“

“Fuckin’ screaming in mah ear,” he mumbles, turning his body away as much as he possibly can. His hip knocks into yours, which makes you glare at him as he tosses around like a child.

“Sorry I’m doing my fuckin’ job, Harry,” you snap back at him. You only get a mumbled response, you don’t even bother to get him to repeat whatever comment he has. Instead you focus on your phone as you get an email from Helene containing the photos you had just asked for.

During a meeting a few weeks prior to tour starting back up, Jeff and yourself agreed it’d be good if Harry got more involved on social media. All you two asked of him was to post one photo from each show. But Harry asked as though you were asking him to sew you a damn dress after every night. This of course lead to you getting his social media passwords and having to do the simple task yourself. It was kinda upsetting to see his fans react to a tweet, thinking its send by their idol when in reality it’s just you.

“Look good or what?” You ask Harry, literally shoving your phone into his face. He surprises you, lifting his glasses and grabbing your phone from your hand.

“Black boarder, not white,” he mutters and hands you back the phone.

“Okay,” you sigh. Guess that was as much input he had on the post.

It’s not soon enough arriving at the private jet. Harry had continue to toss, nudging you repeatedly, through the remainder of the fifteen minute car ride. Then you’re helping Grumpy figure out the back seats and letting him stomp up the stairs of the plane.

In the air plane, there’s sort of a like a ‘picnic table’ set up to it. Two to four chairs would face each other, the groups of four had a full table between while the two chairs facing each other had an open space. Of course you took it upon yourself to sit across from Harry, seeing that you were one of the few people in the plane who could deal with his attitude. Harry immediately slumps down in his seat, buckles up for take off, and sits with his legs spread apart comfortably you hoped. You give him one more look, noticing he crosses his arms at his chest, before knowing he’s falling fast asleep.

You sort of wished he would’ve slept the whole flight, but half way through Harry wakes just as you’re feeling uncomfortable from the long flight. You’ve already tried to get up and wake around, talking to Clare and Sarah about some cafe they wanted to go to in Paris. But then you found yourself back in your seat, nibbling on your bottom lip while looking at your phone screen. That’s when Harry grumbles, sitting up finally and stretching.

“Get enough sleep?” you ask, glancing up from your phone to meet his hooded eyes. He had pushed up his sunglasses to rub the sleep from his eyes.

“I guess,” he mutters.

“Your Instagram post is getting quite the buzz,” you state.

“Cool,”

“Cool,” you mock him, rolling your eyes too. In which Harry returns of course.

It’s silence between you after that. You’re both focused on your phones, Harry bugs the flight attendant for a drink which you very quickly modify to just be a soda with no sorta of liquor at all. This earns a glare from Harry and some mumbling under his breath.

Your legs are beginning to feel cramped up again, you seriously hated flights sometimes. When you had to travel longer distances you usually popped a gravel and passed out in order to not fumble around in your seat to get comfortable hours on end. You kick out your heeled black Balenciaga booties out till your toes hit Harry’s seat in front of you, your legs between his spread out legs. That’s not much comfortable though, just as you go to cross your legs Harry reaches down and grabs your ankle.

“Just rest ‘em here,” he says while placing your boots on his thigh.

You swallow the lump in your throat and feel your stomach do some kinda twist from the gesture. While Harry’s unfazed by it all, looking out the window of the plane while you cross your ankles on his jean clad thigh. He had the right idea though because you’re the most comfortable you’ve been the whole flight with your feet up.

“Thanks,” you say with a tight smile.

“No problem,”

You look back at your phone, checking your own social medias for once. After people got the fact you worked for One Direction, your following grew an unbelievable amount. This only really meant you needed to hold onto a few media training skills you gave the boys for yourself, watching what you posted and what you said in order to not get backlash from the fans. But there was always backlash.

“Are you goin’ to teach me any French?” Harry asks suddenly, bringing your gaze back to where he sat. He had rested his arm over your ankles and was hunched forward just a little. Seems that hangover really was fading away.

“Yeah, I can,” you nod.

“Just somethin’ simple I can talk to the crowd with,”

You nod again and think of something, anything really, and quick before this small nice gesture of Harry’s vanished behind another scowl. After his theatre tour last year everyone sat down and evaluated the shows. First thing that you brought up was the lack of interaction Harry gave to his fans. Yes, he was a stellar performer and his fans loved him for that but he barely said a sentence every night and it wasn’t going to cut it. Just yesterday Harry mentioned learning different languages and you loved the idea.

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Y/N,” you say - you sure did miss speaking French, having learnt in your school days all the way up till your graduated at college.

One corner of Harry’s mouth twitches upwards just a bit before he clears his throat, “one more time,” he says.

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Y/N,” you repeat.

“Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry,” he echoes.

“Good,” you smile, yes actually smile at Harry. “Uh, let’s go, J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent.”

Harry asks for you to repeat it again, the consecrated look on his face is kinda cute. Then he says it, mispronouncing only one word so you repeat it again and then he gets it down. Without you even asking or telling him anything else Harry puts the whole bit together with a small smile upon his lips. It just hits you that he hasn’t even bothered to ask what all of this you’re teaching him means, so of course you decide to poke some fun at him too.

“Et je suis une douleur dans le cul,” you say, grinning at him now.

“Et je suis une douleur dans le cul,” Harry repeats.

Helene, who’s sitting close by, laughs loudly then which causes Harry to furrow his brows together and look her way. Everyone else around her is busy talking, have headphones in or are sleeping so it’s rather obvious she’s laughing at the little prank you’ve pulled on Harry. You two shit talked in French quite often actually.

“What am I saying?” Harry roars out the question with annoyance in each word. You swear you see Adam jolt up in his seat

You simply return the hint of anger with a smile, “Good evening, my name is Harry. I’m learning French but I am a little slow. And I’m a pain in the ass,”

“Funny,” Harry grumbles, crossing his arms at his chest.

“Thought so,” you smirk. There’s no missing the scowl that’s starting to take over Harry’s face, so you quickly kick out your foot and glare at him. “Don’t start, it was just a joke,” you say.

Harry narrows his eyes at you but you notice the twitch of his lips again. It’s kinda sweet how he tries to not show you a smile sometimes. You run a hand through your hair, fixing the soft curls while letting out a small sigh.

“Je suis désolé, s'il vous plait, ne me renvoyez pas,” you say, giving him a toothy smart-ass grin. Helene chuckles again before focusing back on her laptop to edit more photos you’d assume.

“What’d ya say this time?” Harry asks, still as grumpy as ever.

“I’m sorry, please don’t fire me,” you smile.

Harry chuckles, “couldn’t even if I wanted to, love,” he mumbles before looking down at his phone.

You roll your eyes but there’s still a smile on your lips. He was right. Even if you did something out right stupid, which you never would cause you’re the smart one here, Harry would never fire you. Plus Jeff wouldn’t let him. As you’ve said before, they needed you. Grumpy bugger would only listen to you.

“‘Kay, minus the last part, speak French to me, Grumpy,” you tease.

Harry rolls his eyes, “Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry. J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent,”

You’re staring, you know you are, but his voice sounds kinda nice. Smooth and still a little husky from his little nap. Harry speaking French was kinda hot. And you’d never admit it aloud. You’d be a damn fool to not find Harry attractive in even the slightest bit, over all these years there’s been certain times when you find yourself feeling drawn to him - but then he acts like a brat and fucks another fan for fun. You were too good for him, and he’d never see you like that anyways.

“What?” Harry questions your staring, taking a sip of his drink.

“Nothing,” you shake your head, “let’s add, um, merci d’etre avec nous ce soir. It mean’s thank you for being with us tonight,”

“One more time,” Harry insists, face screwed up as he tries to remember what you just said to him. It’s kinda cute, his lips mouthing out the words before he says any just to be sure of himself. You repeat yourself one more time like he asked and of course, he’s got it no problem. The fans tonight in Paris were going to love him. Which meant you were doing your job right.

⏤

Three shots of expresso in your second coffee of the day wasn’t your best decision, at the time of ordering at the cute little cafe with Clare and Sarah you were more concerned about the fact you were nearly falling asleep at the table. But now you had caffeine overdose jitters while walking around backstage. Jeff had you check out a few things with the crew, hand out some PIT tickets to a lovely fan and her family and now you were finally heading back to the dressing room. You shouldn’t be surprised when you open the door and see red wine being passed around, Harry drinking straight from the bottle.

Mitch and his red wine, and Harry and his drinking problem, right? You hold back the eye roll and walk towards the wardrobe rack that had been set up. There’s three options, as there is every night, from Harry Lambert for Harry to chose from. Then it was your job to text Lambert which suit Harry chooses and then he did his Instagram story thing. As you look at the suits, you really hope you can persuade him to wear the other sparkly YSL custom made one. It may be your favourite.

“Oi! M’not shit at ping pong, you are!” Harry barks back at Adam, followed by some laughter thankfully. Wine made Harry a bit more bubbly than some other liquors he enjoyed.

“I suck cause you suck,” Adam counters back.

“Shut up, I’m bettah then you’ll ever be,” Harry says. You do roll your eyes this time. Narcissistic grumpy boy, he was. You quickly make your way towards where he sat between his stupidly expensive Gucci pillows.

“Okay, that’s enough wine now,” you exclaim while stealing the bottle out of his hands.

“What the fuck,” Harry grumbles, turning in order to scowl at you.

You give him a smile before looking to the band, “Grumpy has to get changed, he’ll meet you out there,” you say. The four all stand and leave without a fight, Mitch taking the bottle of red with him as you hand it his way.

“You’re a buzz kill, anyone tell ya that before?” Harry quips, standing from his seat once the others are gone.

“Actually, you have, several times. Mostly after I kick your little whores out,”

Harry simply glares at you in return. Your expresso fuelled energy kicks in again as you rack your hand over the few suits for him to pick from. You immediately grab the hanger that holds the custom YSL.

“I think you should wear this,” you propose, smiling as you hold out the suit for Harry to take. He gives it a once over look, then does the same thing to you which causes your eyes to narrow.

“And why should I take fashion advice from you? You’re literally wearin’ a jumper and jeans,” he says.

“First of all, my shoes cost as much as my monthly rent. Second off, this sweater is your tour merchandise. And lastly these jeans make my ass look amazing thank you very much,” you counter back defensively with a snarl on your lips.

Harry smirks, “wouldn’t be able to tell if your ass looks good or not, love, you’re practically swimming in that jumper. You look bloody ridiculous,”

“I like to be comfortable, get over it and wear this god damn suit,” you growl and shove the suit at Harry. He’s quit to grab the garment before it hits the floor, raising a brow at you before you stomp off and sit on the sofa. Even though the pillows cost way too much, they were sort of comfortable. You bring your legs up on the sofa, tucking them to your chest while you lay your head on the pillow. Queue the start of your caffeine crash. Your fingers toy with the fringe along the pillow as you fight to keep your eyes open while waiting for Harry to change.

You must’ve nodded off for a few minutes, waking to Harry’s gently nudging you. Opening your eyes, you are met with so much sparkle it almost blinds you. But it makes you give a lopsided lazy smile, you were right Harry looked amazing in the suit.

“Good choice,” you say.

“Thanks, made it myself,” he jokes with a smug look. You roll your eye and lay your head down again. “Before you fall back asleep, can you go over the French again, I don’t really want to make a fool of myself out there,”

“M’not going to fall asleep, just resting my eyes,” you say, followed by a yawn.

“Right,” Harry drones. You smile while shutting your eyes. Suddenly you feel Harry’s large hands grasping ahold of your calves, lifting them before the sofa sinks under his weight and he brings your legs to rest across your lap for the second time today.

“Ton costume a l'air très joli. Et votre français est bien,” you say sleepily.

“Merci?”

“You’re welcome, Grumpy,” you smile. “Okay.. Bonsoir, Je ma’ppelle Harry. J’appends le Francais mais je suis un peu lent. Merci d’etre avec nous ce soir,”

There’s silence from Harry. You’re almost too tired to open your eyes and see wether he had fallen asleep himself or maybe he was looking at his phone distracted again. Peeking one eye open, you see it’s nether. Harry’s looking at you, while his fingers are toying with the frays along the bottom of your jeans. You close your eyes again, wiggling your hips further into the couch for comfort.

“Need me to repeat myself?” you ask, as smug as he had been before.

“Uh, yeah,” Harry says and clears his throat, stilling picking at your fraying jeans. You fight back the smile and say the few sentences in French again. In order to keep from the caffeine crash you kept talking to Harry, trying to perfect the articulation of his words to the best you can.

Then it was almost show time. You’re up, yawning the whole way through, and doing your job. From the dressing room to backstage, you can hear the fans singing along to the tunes as you follow behind Harry. Just as he gets to the stairs, he catches your gaze. You immediately notice he’s got a bit of a scowl on his face since someone mentioned the opening act running a little late. So you lift your pointer fingers to the corners of your mouth while showing him a big smile. Harry rolls his eyes but you can’t miss the fact his scowl is gone and there’s a hint of a smile on his lips now.

Like the show prior, you and Jeff stand off to ‘stage right’ to watch from the sidelines. Just before the lights go down and the rubix cube visuals cause a stir from the arena, you notice Harry mouthing the French you two had been working on backstage. Your lips curl up into a smile before you bring your to-go cup of tea to have another sip. Then the screen rises, the whole arena erupts in high pitched screams, and the band starts playing Only Angel. Your head bobbing along to the beat as Harry belts out the lyrics with all his might, performing had always been his favourite. Suppose your job wasn’t all that bad.

It doesn’t surprise you when you head backstage to the dressing room again half way through the show. You had yawned so much that Jeff told you to go nap till the show was over. So you did, sleeping till Helene is shaking you awake saying it’s about time to make the mad dash from the arena.

⏤

“I’ll get a coffee please,” you say, smiling at the waiter before he nods and walks off.

“It’s like 8 in the evening,” Sarah states from across the table. She, Clare, Helene and yourself had decided to have a late dinner at the restaurant in your hotel in Stockholm.

“I have to stay up late, prepare for some upcoming promotion things and reviews of the last week of shows,” you explain, “plus Harry wants a new sofa bought for his LA home by the end of this week so I’m trying to do that while in a different country,”

“A new sofa?” Clare asks, brows pulled together.

“I don’t ask questions anymore,” you sigh, shrugging your shoulders just as your waiter returns then with everyone drinks. You’re thankful he brings a small plate with sugars and creams too, black coffee seriously sucked. After stirring your coffee, you take a long sip and hum contently. A nice little dinner in Stockholm was exactly what you needed after this long first week of tour. You thought after all these years touring and traveling along side Harry you’d be used to it, but you are already struggling it seems.

The four of you girls are having fun chatting about the shows and the fans and all the places you’ve seen thus far. The three of them get a big more time to look around each city than you do - you’re always busy cleaning up Harry’s mess of alcoholic issues from city to city. Last night it was literally cleaning up the wine bottles from the dressing room before the flight left from Antwerp to Stockholm. Harry and the guys took advantage of the extra time at the arena to get drunk before the redeye flight. The night ended with you muttering things under your breath, Harry scowling, and you tossing red solo cups and empty bottles into the garbage as everyone else left.

This morning you didn’t even bother to check up on him. Wether he drank himself to sleep again or somehow got another girl into his room in the middle of the night, you didn’t care. He was rude last night and you needed a day off before the show tomorrow.

“Is that Harry?” Helene questions, pointing her fork in the direction of the bar. You chew another bite of your meal and glance the way she’s gesturing to.

She’s right, of course she is. Harry’s leaning towards another blonde with long legs while seated at the bar. The blonde is loving the smirk Harry’s got across his face, throwing her head back with laughter at whatever he had said - you bet it wasn’t even that funny. You roll your eyes and set down your coffee after having a long sip.

“I’m not doing this again tonight,” you grit through your teeth, “if one of you pays for my meal I’ll transfer you some money later, I need to do my job it seems,” you sigh and get up from the table as all the girls wish you luck. This wasn’t about to be an easy one.

You approach the bar from behind Harry, glaring at the blonde as her dark eyes meet yours. She immediately stands up straight and widens her eyes, seems you’ve scared her a bit. This brings a smug look to your lips, just as Harry turns around to glance over his shoulder and see you. You decided you wanted to spice this one up a little, so you snake your hand across his should blades and bring yourself into Harry’s side which causes him to sit up a bit and look at you with confusion clear as day.

“Can’t leave you along for too long now can I, baby?” You ask, smirking while Harry’s eyes narrow as he catches onto your little plan. You glance back to the blonde, “he’s just too polite somedays, I swear, was he offering to pay for your drinks? What an angel he is,” you give her a tight smile.

“Something like that,” the Swedish accent is thick as the girl answers you.

“What? What was happening here, sweetie?” You fake gasp, fingers digging into Harry’s neck as you look his way. He’s got that lovely snarl ready to go. “Were you going to cheat on me? You dirty bastard, how dare you, I’m the best thing that’s ever happened to you!” You whisper shout every word so it’s just heard by Harry and the blonde. Harry’s eyes somehow narrow even more into slits. But you can’t miss the tugging of his lips again, seems he’s entertained at least.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know-“

“It’s fine,” you snap back at her. “We’re leaving now,” you say to Harry while pulling him from the bar stool. Harry huffs, opening his mouth to protest but you’re quick to shut him up again. “Don’t you dare try and talk you’re way out of this,” you say dramatically, taking his hand and dragging him towards the doors back into the hotel lobby.

Harry lets out a low chuckle as the two of you get to the elevator, you lean over to push the button and wait. You glance his way and surprised by the fact he’s not scowling at you. Harry’s grinning, yeah it’s a weird sight to behold - he only really let out a grin while on stage cause he loved that bit of his job enough. Or when Anne was around, but never would he actually grin at you.

“What?” you question, eyes narrowed.

“M’starin’ to think,” he pauses as the elevator doors open and the both of you step inside, “that you’re acting out of jealousy, love,” he finishes with that same grin.

A loud laugh, right from your gut, erupts through the elevator. You hold your stomach, throwing your head back for good measure too. Finally you turn to look at Harry again and see he’s got that scowl back on thank goodness. You give him a smile, reaching over to touch his cheek giving it a quick tap before dropping your hand back to your side again.

“You’re a funny one, Harry Styles,” you say. The elevator doors open up at the floor both your rooms were on. “Now, order in some food and watch some shitty TV show, just don’t make my job harder please,” you breathe out.

“Is that what you’re doing?”

“That and ordering your new stupid sofa,” you answer.

“Mind if I, uh, join you?” Harry coughs, seeming to struggle with asking if he could hangout with you.

You chuckle under your breath, “yeah, sure, that way I don’t pick out a sofa and order it and then you decide you don’t like it and I have to return it and then order a new one all while on the other side of the world,” you ramble out.

“You’ve known me for years, I’m sure you would’ve made a great choice by yourself,” Harry says.

You shrug, taking out your hotel room key and sliding it through till the door opens for the two of you to walk through. Immediately all you want to do it change back into the extra large tour sweater, some sleep shorts and get more comfortable. If it was acceptable, you would wear leggings and oversized sweaters everywhere - but you knew going to a restaurant meant you should wear a cute top and some jeans.

“Feel free to get comfortable, order some room service too but just know it will be charged on your card not mine,” you tell Harry while gathering your few items of clothing you were going to get changed into.

“M’kay,” Harry hums and you walk into the bathroom to get changed and use the toilet too. To be completely honest, you’re taking your time, even going to the length of brushing your hair since you had the time to. Harry could entertain himself, you heard the TV on already and then just as you’re opening the bathroom door you see he’s answering the door for the room service. First thing you notice is the bottle of red wine on the cart.

“Can’t go a day without something to drink now?” you question once the door is closed, rolling your eyes at Harry as he reaches for the wine first.

“Do you ever just relax and have a drink?” Harry asks, raising a brow while taking a seat on one side of the bed. Of course he sits on the side you would’ve liked.

“Yes,” you mumble.

Harry seems to take that as his right to pour you as glass. It doesn’t surprise you when his is a bit more full than yours, giving him a look while taking the glass from his hands and having a seat on the other side of the bed. The TV has some weird local show on, looked like some crappy reality TV show but you didn’t have much time to care. You take a small sip of the wine and place the glass on the bedside table to your right.

“Mind passing me my laptop, please,”

Harry nods, swallowing a rather large sip of his wine before leaning over and grabbing your laptop that was sitting upon the other bedside table. You open it up and log in while Harry begins to eat and steak and chips he ordered for himself. Just as you open up some emails and the online order for the couch, you reach over and steal a chip.

“Hey!” Harry shouts. You chuckle and chew it up with a smile.

“Okay, you mentioned a dark fabric sofa but I think a white one would look much better with the interior design you have going back in your LA home,” you explain, clicking a few tabs open to show him the options you had found.

“I like that one,” Harry comments, touching your screen with his dirty fingers as he leans over and looks at the sofas.

“Me too,” you nod.

It was an ‘older fashion’ compared to the other more modern ones you had chosen for him to pick from. It was sort of funny, you were thinking of ordering the matching chair to the sofa he had picked for your own apartment - too bad your current apartment was small and crowded and so not your favourite. It was about time you started looking for a new place actually. Suppose it would have to wait till after the tour.

The two of you sit in your bed, chatting about how Harry felt the last few shows had went. You had noticed he was a bit more cheery with his fans, which was something you gave him praise for. Harry finishes the bottle of wine before you even get a second glass, it doesn’t entirely surprise you. But what does surprise you is how much you’re actually enjoying hanging out with Harry.

“You know the fans are going to go nuts for Stockholm Syndrome tomorrow night,” you say.

“Should I tease them a little bit? Say we’re goin’ to sing a different song, tell ‘em we forgot the cords,” Harry smiles.

“Oh God, they’d lose their minds,” you chuckle and sit up again while adjusting the laptop in your lap.

“They’d have my arse I think,” Harry says, bringing the last of his red wine to his stained lips, “maybe I’ll put the blame on you, point out where you’re standing so they attack you and not me,”

“You’re fans adore me, they’d never believe your crap,”

“You’re right,” Harry sighs, “they do really like you,”

“They haven’t always,”

“God, remember when that whole drama with you and I dating,” Harry laughs.

You chuckle, “then there was literal magazine spreads about me seeing Zayn behind your back. God, every media outlet was running with some wild ideas, then I finally told the manager to suck it and tweeted about it all,”

“You almost got fired,” Harry recalls.

“And yet, here I am,” you say. Harry smiles too, nodding his head before finishing off his wine completely.

“You’re welcome,” Harry smirks. “I went to Modest and told them if they fired you I’d be more of a public mess than usual,”

“Oh, my drunk knight in shining Gucci,” you joke, causing the both of you to erupt into a fit of laughter. Harry’s holding his stomach with both hands, eyes crinkled tight as he howls away in laughter. You quite literally have to wipe away tears that formed at your eyes. It wasn’t really that funny, but it was most definitely one of those ‘i’m laughing harder cause you’re laughing harder’. And to be completely honest, you really liked Harry’s laugh.

Once you two finally stop laughing, you continue to talk a bit more about the tour. You inform him how much the fans want Medicine and Anna to be released, Harry just kinda shrugs but has a smug look on his face as he leans back on the headboard of your hotel bed. After a few more moments, you start to realize Harry’s mumbling his responses a bit. Glancing over, you see his eyelids shut.

“Harry, maybe it’s time you went to your room,” you say softly.

“Yeah,” he hums.

Harry reached into his left front pocket of his trousers first. Then into his right front pocket. You look away from your phone to see he’s got a frown on his face while lifting his hips and searching both his back pockets, pulling out his wallet to check it too. When he curses under his breath, you sigh and drop your phone onto your lap.

“I don’t have my room key,” he states.

“It’s too late, the front desk is closed already,” you exclaim, glancing at the red numbers reading it was well past midnight - seems time slipped by your two while you go chatting.

“Uh-”

“Just stay here tonight, it’s fine,” you cut him off, sighing while getting out of the bed. You’re facing away from him, towards the open curtains of your room that shows the night lights of downtown Stockholm, and reach up to stretch out your back after being hunched over looking at your laptop so much. As a cool breeze hits the back of your thighs, you realize the sweater hiked up a bit more than you would’ve liked to - there was no doubt Harry was enjoying the little show he had gotten. You bring your arms back down quick and walk over to the bathroom.

After you’re done brushing your teeth and washing your face of any makeup left from today, you stare at your reflection in the mirror for a moment while deep in thought. Harry actually wasn’t half bad tonight. Barely any rude comments and you managed to bring bad a smile anytime his bad attitude showed up. Now tonight you’d grab the small extra blanket and keep your distance while he slept beside you. Easy, right...

Suddenly there’s a knock on the bathroom door, followed by Harry, “are you almost done in there?” he asks, his voice surprisingly not bothered at all. You open the door and reveal him leaning against the frame, eyes flickering back up from the floor to meet your eyes. Queue the twist and turns in your stomach.

“There’s an extra tooth brush in the drawer, I believe,” you say.

“Okay, thanks,” Harry nods. You smile, walk passed him and get into bed.

Why were you so nervous all of a sudden? It was just Harry. Who was kinda your boss and was the biggest man whore you’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. You let out a deep breath and bring the blankets up to your chin. Maybe if you got all comfy and tried to fall asleep before Harry got back to the bed it’d be easier to ignore the fact he was here all together. Or maybe you could actually act your age and not like some virgin school girl.

Harry exits the bathroom, turning off the lights as he walks by so it’s just the lamp lit up now. Your stomach does another twist as the bed sinks under his weight after a few moments. Then the blanket is being yanked away, torn from your hands till it’s just barely over your torso.

“Hey,” you grumble.

“Don’t tell me you’re a bloody blanket hog,” Harry scolds. You roll your eyes and turn your head to look his way, seeing him snuggled right up under the blanket.

“M’not a bloody blanket hog,” you state, “but you sure are,” you add under your breath. Harry lets out the blanket enough for you to cover up your body.

“No, m’not,” Harry argues back.

“Goodnight, Grumpy,” you mutter back, too tired to fight with him. Seems his bad attitude was back just in time. You turn your back to him and close your eyes, hearing the sound of him turning off the lamp. Harry turns in the bed, not touching you though, a handful of times before he’s letting out a soft chuckle.

“What?” you question. You know he’s smirking or something, you just know it.

“Just trying to remember the last time I shared a bed with a woman and hadn’t fucked her,” he exclaims. You roll your eyes, glancing at the clock quick to distract you from any other thoughts that popped into your head.

“Such a romantic,” you say.

“Shut up,” Harry grunts.

“Grumpy,” you mutter under your breath.

Then you both go quiet again and thankfully it doesn’t take too much time before you’re fast asleep. But then you’re dreaming. Vividly actually. You’re in the dressing room, laying on the sofa with your eyes closed and at first you seem like you’re trying to sleep. But then your lips part, a small whimper falling from your throat and your fists gasp onto the first thing they can as the sensational feeling runs through your veins. Your fists find someones hair, thick and soft to your touch. You feel someones warm tongue between your slick folds, lapping at your wetness and flicking over your sensitive clit over and over again.

“Oh, God, yes,” you moan aloud, gripping at their hair some more as your body arches into their touch.

“Not God, love, close though,” their deep voice vibrates against your sex. Your eyes spring open at the sound of his voice - Harry’s voice. Looking down you see it’s his brown curly locks in your hands and his face between your legs. His green eyes meet yours, lips curling up into a smirk before he dips back down to rapidly lap at your wetness again.

He sure does know what he’s doing. Tongue moving quick till your body arches off the sofa again and your moans echo off the walls of the dressing room. It feels so good. Maybe even too good. Harry abruptly stokes a finger at your entrance. Not moving for a moment before his finger plunges into you, causing a high pitched gasp to fall from your lips. He’s not starting off gentle, he is slamming his finger into you right till the cool feel of his ring touches your skin. You’re almost blown away by his attention to your clit while fingering you. It’s bringing you closer and close to a release.

“Keep going, please, please- Harry,” you beg with your eyes screwed shut. Your stomach bubbles before your legs begin to shudder, the wetness between them gets worse with your release.

You’re body melts into the sofa after the orgasm stops. Then your eyes open open once again as you feel Harry move over top of you. His green ones are full of lust, lips in a smug look before his lips wrap around his finger that is slick with your cum. There’s no denying how fucking sexy it is though, the way he groans afterwards causes your stomach to flutter.

“Always knew you’d taste so sweet,” Harry purrs before leaning down to latch his lips to yours.

But just before he can kiss you, your eyes flutter open from the sunlight hitting them just right. You squint, bringing an arm up to block the morning sun, then just as your about to turn away you realize you can’t exactly. There’s a heavy arm draped over your waist, hand curled into your sweater so tight you really can’t move. Your eyes widen, unaware of when Harry had gotten so close during the night.

“Holy fuck, your feet are freezing,” Harry utters suddenly. His voice hoarse as he’s just waking up. You then realize that his bare legs are against yours, your ankles tangled together.

“Where did your damn trousers go?” you question a little more harsh than necessary. Harry rolls his eyes and brings his arm back to his side.

“You’re not wearing any either,” he mutters.

“Whatever,” you say. Just then, as you move your legs away from his, you realize how wet you are between your thighs. You swallow hard and are quick to jump out of the bed. “I’m showering,” you state before quickly making your way into the bathroom and swiftly closing the door behind you before Harry could utter another word.

The water is hot, nearly burning your skin as you stand under the stream entirely too long. You’ve washed your hair and was just standing there now, thinking about the dream you had. The way his mouth felt against your sex, the warm breath from his nostrils while his tongue did magic you swore. If that was a dream, you couldn’t imagine what the real damn thing had you feeling like. You jerk as your own hand makes contact between your thighs. You can’t help it, the mere thought of your dream has you itching to be touched. Thankfully you know your body well, and there’s this one spot on your clit that if you have just a bit of pressure and rub circles frantically you...

Not any longer than a minute later and you’re coming undone. Your bud sensitive to your own touch so quickly that you have to slip your hand away before your knees buckle and you’re falling in the shower. Knowing you’re taking much too long, you quickly wash your body with your lavender soap and turn off the water before stepping out of the shower.

You’ve got the white fluffy towel wrapped tightly around your body after you dried yourself off a bit. Staring into the steamed up mirror, you are shaking your head at yourself. There wasn’t going to be a real thing. Harry wasn’t ever going to touch you like that. And you shouldn’t be standing here wishing he would.

“Shit,” you curse under your breath as you realize you had rushed into the bathroom so fast you didn’t grab any clean clothes.

There was no way you were going to step back into your dirty clothes and defeating the whole purpose of you having a shower to begin with. So you took a deep breath, pushed back whatever stupid nerves you had about Harry being in your room still, and walked out of the bathroom.

“Yeh really couldn’t shut the curtains-” Harry’s words get lost in his throat as he sits up in bed and sees you standing there in a towel. His eyes are wide for only a second before he’s smugness takes over. “Forget ya clothes, love?” he asks, in which you instantly roll your eyes at him.

“No, I was going for a new look,” you joke, turning around to open your suitcase that’s sitting on top of the dresser.

“Well,” Harry pauses, “I quite like the new look then,”

You have the white t-shirt you’re planning to wear in your hands, clenching the fabric as you literally have to pause and inhale deeply while your thoughts go off again. Swallowing back the lump in your throat, you make sure you’re got underwear and a bra before reaching for some black jeans. You were running out of clothes already it seems, and you seriously hated doing laundry.

“Get up, we’ve got to head to the arena soon and I’m starving,” you order before holding your towel with one hand and your clothes in the other. Harry’s eyes dart to the items in your hand, but you’re moving too fast into the bathroom again.

You hope that Harry’s up and going as you finish getting ready, putting on some perfume just before you hear someone pounding on your hotel room door. Your brows furrow together in confusion. Who in the world could be knocking on your door this early in the morning? Well, besides someone from the crew but with such urgency? You open the bathroom door when you hear Harry answer the room door.

“What the-”

“God, no, it’s not like that!” You shout immediately as you met Jeff’s narrowed eyes.

“Please explain to me why he’s standing here in his underwear, and you’re getting out of the shower,” Jeff fumes at the both of you, stepping inside of your room to shut the hotel room door behind him for privacy. You see Harry roll his eyes then he steps back and walks away from the situation entirely.

“We were just hanging out last night talking work stuff, it got late, and then Harry realized he lost his room key and the front desk was already closed for the night,” you explained, “he slept here, on the other side of the bed,” you add, peering back over your shoulder to see Harry jumping into his trousers. Harry’s gaze meets yours, eyebrows lifted as you tell Jeff a slight lie.

“Right,” Jeff says.

“It’s the truth, Jeff, don’t really care if you believe it or not,” Harry huffs and walks up towards the two of you. “I’m bloody starving, can we go eat now,”

Harry doesn’t wait for either of you two to answer, reaching for the door handle and ripping open the door to walk out of the room. Seems Grumpy was bad in full force this morning. You sigh, giving Jeff one last look, before grabbing your purse and room key from the small desk and walking out of your room with Jeff behind you.

“Get his new room key before we leave for the arena,” Jeff says just as you two are approaching Grumpy who’s staring at his phone waiting for the elevator.

“Yes, of course, had planned on it,” you mutter out. The three of you step into the elevator then as it arrives.

Harry looks up and catches your gaze. You’re tongue sticks out to quickly wet your slightly chapped lips - noting you have to stop into a close by shop and buy some chapstick. Maybe Harry needs some too. You can’t help as the thought crosses your mind and your eyes fall down to look at his lips. It only takes a second before they’re curling upwards just a bit into a smirk. You look back up and meet his gaze, glaring at him as he keeps the smug look upon his face. What was even happening between you two? All you did was share a bed last night and now you’re looking at his damn lips, ugh.

⏤

“Wow that looks unreal,” you say in awe while looking at your phone screen.

“I can’t even describe the big this crowd is, Y/N, like I can’t see the end of it,” your friend, Miles, tells you as he lifts his phone up again and shows you the sea of people in DC. You’re in utter awe of it all, jealous of your good friend as he gets to be such a part of history in this March for Our Lives back in DC.

“I wish I was there,” you groan dramatically while bringing the phone close to your mouth. Miles chuckles, showing his face once more. “Also I seriously miss you,” you add with a smile.

“I miss you too, you’ve been away for like way too long,” he says.

“I know, and I won’t be back in LA till after Ireland and that’s in like a month,” you pout your lips. Miles mirrors your pout before his gaze switches to the crowd around him again. “You’re vlogging this right? Cause I need to see this footage,” you say.

“Of course I am, this is going to make a great video with an even better message,”

“All your vids have a great message, Miles,” you smile.

“Thanks,” he grins before flipping the camera back around to the crowd as they start up another chant. You actually got chills, way over here in Germany.

“Y/N-” you turn at the sound of Harry’s voice, seeing him enter the dressing room. He’s still got an hour till showtime, which he’s spent with Jeff doing something you can’t exactly remember right now. Harry’s brows furrow at the sight of you FaceTiming someone. He walks up behind where you sat on the sofa and peers at the screen. “Is that DC?” he asks.

“Yup,” you nod, watching him as he stares at the screen.

“That’s unreal,” Harry breathes out, repeating the same words you had just said.

“Miles, say hi to Harry,” you say to your friend. Miles stutters on a word before the camera is being flipped and you see his bright wide eyes. Sure, all your friends were aware that you worked for Harry Styles but that didn’t mean they were cool with the fact. Didn’t matter how much you bitched about his bad attitude, your friends were all swooning over him just like the rest of the world.

“Harry, hey, wow, uh congratulations of the tour and the year you’ve had man,” Miles beams. He honestly looks so cute through the grainy phone, he’s got you smiling - while Harry’s straight faced and gives him one nod.

“Thanks, and congrats on being apart of history,” Harry says.

“Wow, thanks, yeah it’s great here,” Miles replies.

Harry turns to look at you now, which makes you look his way too, “hang up your phone and let’s actually get to work,” he grumbles and walks off towards the three suits for tonight.

“Sorry about that,” you say closer to the phone while rolling yours eyes.

“It’s fine, cool actually,” Miles says.

“I have to go now, but keep filming and send me some footage later when you get the chance,” you smile. Miles says his goodbyes and you’re ending the call sadly before standing from the sofa.

Harry’s scowling at the suits, shoving them around roughly and barely looking at them it seems. Or else he’d notice how great the red Givenchy suit with the black shirt with white embellishments on either side of the buttons really truly was. You had actually forgotten about it, it had been an option in Paris earlier this month but you were so in love with the sparkly YSL suit to even care. But now, this red suit was everything.

“Miles your boyfriend?” Harry asks all of a sudden.

Your head snaps up, looking at him with your brows pulled together. Harry only asks you maybe once a year if you were still single or not. But never had it sounded so... jealous? Or were you actually going crazy after that stupid sex dream.

“Miles is my friend,” you answer, “what suit are you leaning towards?” you ask, clearing your throat.

“Uh, the red one,” he says while grabbing the hanger off the rack.

“Good, I like that one,”

“Should I go for the white boots too?” Harry asks, his voice more soft than before. You smile and bend down to pick them up, admiring the Givenchy boots that weren’t even on the runway yet - cause that’s the power Harry has in the fashion world nowadays. You remember when his tour wardrobe consisted of black jeans and black t-shirts to match. “What’re yeh grinning at?” Harry asks, eyebrows furrowed while his own lips twitched upwards.

“Just thinkin’ about your outfits for the Take Me Home tour. I wasn’t really around for wardrobe bits involving you, but I packed a lot of it up I remember,” you explain.

“You weren’t really ‘round much back then, kinda hid out from the boys and I,” Harry states while he focuses on taking the suit off the hanger. You smile and take the metal wire from him as he hands it your way.

“I’ve changed since then, was a bit more nervous, didn’t really understand all this stuff,” you admit.

“And now you’re a boss at it all,” Harry says, smiling a little while unbuttoning the shirt he currently had on.

“Someone has to tell your ass off,”

Harry doesn’t respond or chuckle, which causes you to glance away from the wardrobe rack and to him. He’s staring at you, lips still tugging just slightly upwards, and he’s shirtless now. It’s a sight to behold really. The strange tattoos and the bit of chest hair he’s got. And his tummy, it’s actually kinda cute. But then there’s the v line and the trail of hair that makes your head all kinds of dizzy. You find yourself checking Harry out, snapping yourself out of it before he can make some snide comment. You’re rather surprised he’s not, and there’s no smirk on his lips either as you look at his face. He’s licking his lips, eyes roaming your body. Unlike your usual outfits, you’re dressing in your best pair of black jeans - showing off your ass of course, and a rather tight ‘March for Our Lives’ shirt because Sarah wanted the slightly bigger size and the small fit you fine. Overall, you weren’t going to downplay yourself cause you looked pretty good.

“You’re the only person I’d let tell my ass off,” Harry states, eyes finding yours once more. You’re blushing, you have to be, while the palm of your hands are getting sweaty too.

“What are you ever going to do without me?” you question, humming afterwards while giving Harry a smile.

He chuckles, slipping his arms into the black Givenchy shirt. As he’s buttoning it up, you find your eyes trailing each movement and that’s your queue to walk away. You make your way to the sofa once more, grabbing your tea that you had forgotten about and taking a sip to find it’s cold. You frown at the styrofoam cup and huff while taking a seat on the sofa.

While waiting for Harry to get ready, you sit there and overthink - as per usual. Ever since Stockholm things have been a little bit different between yourself and Harry. He’s been a bit more chirpy than usual. Happier maybe? But definitely still as Grumpy as ever. Like the shameless looking that had just taken place, there’s been more questionable things and motions happening. He’s let up his flirtatious side with you a little, but still giving you a bit of attitude after to make it less awkward you suppose. And the sex dreams, well of course those haven’t gone away. Just last night you dreamt of Harry fucking you in that hotel bed in Stockholm. The dirty thoughts cause you to shake your head just as Harry sits down next to you on the sofa.

“Tell Lambert what suit I’m wearing?” Harry asks.

“Yep,” you nod.

“Gonna watch the show tonight or nap again?” Harry questions, leaning back into the sofa and throwing both his arms across the back of the sofa.

“Did you want me to watch the show?”

Harry keeps his lips tight, looking at the small coffee table before they flicker over to meet yours. There’s something different about his look, something a bit softer and more welcoming than other times. You give him a small smile and lean your head back against the sofa - to be honest, you could use a nap after last nights late night with the girls here in Germany. To sum it up, Clare could handle more beer than you thought she could but you could out drink them all.

“I mean, I like having everyone out there supporting me,” Harry shrugs, “but if you need some sleep, just come see me off and watch Only Angel. I know it’s your favourite,” he says.

“I’m really starting to love The Chain,” you state.

“Then come back for The Chain,” Harry shrugs.

You smile, “have I ever told you how much my dad loves Fleetwood Mac? He wanted to marry Stevie for the longest time, even after he married my mom,” you say, chuckling afterwards at the memory.

“So you grew up listening to them?”

“Yup, and The Eagles a lot too,”

“Me too, my dad quite liked them both,” Harry states. You hum out in response, smiling at the fact you two were talking about someone other than work. Harry turns his head, matching how you were leaning back against the sofa. “Could you imagine, Stevie Nicks being your mum?” He says.

“She basically is your second mum!” You chuckle, reaching over to smack his arm lightly. “I’m still not over meeting her twice last year, she even remembered me the second time it was crazy,”

“Why wouldn’t she remember you?” Harry questions. You can feel there’s more he wants to say, it’s almost like you can see the wheels in his head moving as he licks his lips. Just then someone’s knocking on the door, Jeff opens it up and pops his head in. You make the move to get up first as you already knew it was close to show time. And Harry’s plan wasn’t so bad, you’d walk down to ‘stage right’ enjoy Only Angel and maybe Woman and then come back till the end of the show.

“Hey,” you call out to Harry right before he’s stepping to the stairs to get on stage. He turns back around and meets your gaze. “Have fun out there, and keep up with the birthday thing they’re eating that right up,” you tell him with a smile. Harry mirrors your small smile and nods as you reach out and fix his suit jacket. “Break a leg,” you add before shooing him off.

No one could wipe that grin off Harry’s face even if you tried. The moment Only Angel starts up, Harry’s prancing around the stage and hyping up the crowd like always. You can’t help but smile as you watch him, singing along yourself and swaying you hips to the beat - no matter how many times you watched this show, you’d always enjoy it.

“He seems more cheery tonight,” Jeff says, leaning towards you in order to not completely shout over the music.

“Yeah, I noticed that too,” you agree.

“Look, I don’t know what you’re doing but keep doing it,”

“I don’t know what I’m doing either,” you shrug. And it was the complete truth. Sure one night you two shared a bed, and things have been less snappy between you both since then, but otherwise you aren’t entirely sure it’s because of you that Harry’s been less of an ass lately. But hey, you’ll take the credit if it means you’re in Jeff’s good books again.

⏤

Spain was hot. And you weren’t exactly feeling the best either, so the heat wasn’t doing you any good. You typically loved the summer time and the sun on your skin, it was nice. But not when you had this dumb flu that has been making your head pound and your nose run for the past 24 hours now. Through the years of touring with One Direction, you knew it was best to just lay in bed and sleep away the sickness. Too bad Harry had a different idea.

“Get out of bed,” he grunts.

“How the hell did you get into my room?” you ask, brows wound tight as you peer over your blanket to see him standing at the foot of your bed with his arms crossed.

“Told the front desk I needed a key,” he shrugs.

“Abusing your power I see,” you mumble before bringing the blanket back over your head in hopes Harry would get the idea and leave. But of course, he doesn’t. Instead he tugs on the blanket and you have to keep a death grip with both of your hands in order to keep yourself covered. “I’m only in a sports bra, prick,” you snarl at him.

“Got no pants on, huh? Sleep naked when you’re not sharing a bed?” Harry questions you, smirking of course.

“No, you idiot, I’m wearing shorts too,”

“This is besides the point, get out of bed,” Harry orders you again.

“No,”

“Now, come on,” Harry tries again.

“No, seriously, go away,” you bark at him. Harry tugs the blanket again and you really want to scream at him but you’re not feeling up to it honestly. You sigh and lay there on your back, not even caring about the fact Harry’s seeing you in your sports bra right now - it was like a bathing suit, right?

“Funny,” Harry snorts, you turn your head and see him smiling, “the roles are reversed for once,” he states.

“At least there’s not a strange man in my bed you have to deal with too,” you say, rolling your eyes while sitting up and throwing your legs over the side of the mattress till your feet hit the ground. Harry doesn’t respond, just chews at his bottom lip like he’s in thought or something. You sniffle and end up laying back down on the mattress while pouting.

“Almost made it,” Harry sighs.

“M’sick, what else can you expect from me?”

“I expect that you’re willing to push through it since we’re all getting out of the hotel and doing something today,” Harry exclaims. You let out a long groan, rolling over to grab a tissue and blow your nose. “Cute,” Harry mumbles.

“Shut up,” you say while sitting back up again.

“Now look who’s the grumpy one,” Harry snickers. You roll your eyes and stand up, walking passed him to get to where your suitcase was laying open. Harry turns around, watching you as you’re trying to find something acceptable to wear out in this heat.

“You,” you sigh, “you’re always going to be Grumpy,”

“Meh, today’s been an alright day. Woke up earlier than I needed to, went down and got breakfast with Mitch and Adam, and then the others joined us and Jeff told me about this art museum here,” Harry explains his morning thus far to you. It’s honestly rather surprising, you couldn’t recall the last time Harry had been up before you and even had breakfast with any of the band. You furrow your brows and turn back around, leaning against the dresser while crossing your arms at your chest. He has taken a seat upon your unmade bed now, still watching you.

“You didn’t drink last night? Didn’t have any whores here in Barcelona?” You question him.

Harry shakes his head, “only had some wine with Sarah and Mitch in their room, watched a rom com, and then went to sleep in my own bed,”

“Are you becoming a changed man, Grumpy?” you tease.

This earns you an eye roll from Harry right away. You only snicker under your breath and turn back around to grab the thin black tank top that you’d plan to wear with some high wasted jean shorts and some sneakers. Hopefully you wouldn’t die out in the heat with this outfit.

“Okay, get out, I need to change,” you say, shooing at Harry but he doesn’t move an inch - only give you a bigger smirk than before.

“What, no show today? Quite like the towel bit,” he jokes.

“Yeah, you’re definitely not a changed man,” you mumble to yourself mostly. But Harry hears you and scowls. “Seriously, I’ll text whoever and meet you all downstairs,”

“You know I have a key right, I’ll come right back in so don’t even think about layin’ back down,”

“Yeah, speaking of, give me the room card,” you order him, flipping your hand palm up for him to give you the key. Harry only smirks again, digging into his front pocket and handing you the key. “I won’t go back to sleep, I might travel with a handful of tissues but you’ve got me up now, congrats,”

“Grumpy,” Harry chuckles before walking out of your room finally.

Barcelona was beautiful. You had been here twice before while touring with One Direction actually, but had never really gotten the chance to look around the city itself. Now, as you stood outside under the sun and looked up at the art installation you were really glad Harry had gotten you up this morning. You sniffle some more, walking up beside Clare as you take in more of the museum. She’s telling you about the night she and Helene had last night, making sure she tells you a million times how much you were missed though. But you assure her you had a good night sleep.

“Oh there’s some fans,” Clare says just above a whisper. You look up from the ground and see she’s right. There’s a handful of them all standing together waiting for Harry, who’s walking just in front of you with two bodyguards by his side.

“Let’s hope this doesn’t go wrong and I don’t have to step in today,” you say. There’s been times when Harry’s bad attitude reflects horribly towards some awaiting fans and you literally have to step in and try to make the situation better. With your sickness, you really didn’t want to today.

“Harry,” the fans thick accents can’t be missed while they grin at Harry.

“Hi,” he says, giving them a smile.

“Can I get a picture?” One asks, handing off her phone to another fan before Harry even gets to answer. And he doesn’t, he just stands beside her and gives the camera a thumbs up before giving her a quick goodbye and looking to the next fan. A girl wearing a jean jacket, how in this heat you don’t know, comes up to Harry next and asks for an autograph. It’s all really sweet, Harry’s not acting out or scowling at them, so you step by the whole ordeal and step back a few feet with one of the bodyguards while waiting for him.

“Y/N?” Clare calls out.

“You go on, I’ll wait,” you say, because you always did - mostly to be ready to do your job and do any damage control. The girls just nod and go on towards the awaiting van.

“Can we do a group photo, I’ve just got people waiting now,” Harry says, pointing his thumb to where you stood off by Miller, Harry’s number one bodyguard through all these years you’ve known him.

The fans all agreed and things went smoothly, they had grins upon their faces as they wave frantically when Harry begins to walk away from the group of them. Miller steps behind him, arm outreached to protect him in case any fans got any crazy ideas but thankfully none of them did and you stepped beside Harry easily while walking towards the van. You nudge him with your elbow, causing him to look your way instead of at the ground.

“Good job, made that easy,” you noted.

“I’ve been doing this for quite a while, Y/N, I know how to handle a few fans,” he says. You roll your eyes.

“Somedays aren’t as easy as that was,”

“Whatever,”

“Whatever,” you mock him, stepping up into the van without giving him another look. Suppose it was your fault he was giving you attitude, maybe you just should’ve stayed quiet and kept your thoughts to yourself.

The van ride is filled with everyone giving their opinion on what you had all just seen. You were keeping quiet, eyes shut as another headache started up. Although this day was pretty great and you loved everything you saw and learnt here in Barcelona, you just wanted to be back in your hotel room and get some more sleep even. So that’s what you did, upon arriving back to the hotel you gave everyone a quiet goodbye and excluded yourself from the group while making your way back to your room.

Not even an hour later and there’s knocking at your door. You groan to yourself, hoping you don’t have to argue with Harry about how you’re not going out for whatever dinner they had planned tonight. You just couldn’t muster up the energy to be completely real. But when you open the door and reveal room service, your brows pull together.

“I didn’t order anything,” you say.

“This was ordered for you, ma’am,” she says, so you step back and let them push in the cart before she leave your room again. You’re rather confused, looking at the aray of things on the cart. Soup, chips, iced water, a bottle of Advil and a entire pot of tea. Then you notice the small note beside the tea pot.

‘feel better love -Harry’

You are smiling so much your cheeks hurt, while your stomach is doing that familiar twisting thing it’s been doing a lot lately - every time because of Harry of course. This was so stupid of you. To feel this way about Harry. It was stupid and reckless and you couldn’t seem to do a thing about it cause he kept doing stupid things like this. He was talking to you more about personal things, about life and his feelings and it wasn’t helping you at all either. But you had to keep it professional, you had to step back and think for a minute. Did you really have feelings for Harry?

⏤

You had taken a moment, staring at the large table here at Osteria Francescana, and thought about where you were going to take a seat at this extravagant dinner with some people from Gucci. When Jeff told you you were joining him and Harry, you were a little shocked but then snapped into shape and got yourself ready. Wearing your trusty Balenciaga boots, some black high wasted wide legged Gucci pants, and a pink floral printed long sleeve shirt that wasn’t Gucci because you could only afford so much high fashion clothing items. With your hair pulled back into a tight bun, you were rather impressed with yourself for getting so glammed up in a hotel room.

“Il tuo ristorante è molto carino,” you say to the owner who’s sitting at the head of the table. You decided that assuming Jeff wanted you here for your Italian, you take the free seat beside him and across from Harry.

“Tu parli italiano?” he questions.

“Sì, da quando ero un bambino,” you smile. You could thank your grandparents on your mothers side for the lessons in Italian. They were very clear from your infant days that they wanted you to know their mother tongue, so they taught you and it’s stuck ever since.

“Is she telling you all my dirty secrets?” Harry questions from where he sat, lips tugging into a smile as you meet his gaze.

“I’m just letting him know how lovely this place is, and that I learnt Italian when I was young. From my grandparents,” you explain, saying the last bit while looking to the owner again.

“Qual era il tuo nome di nuovo?” he asks, smiling at you.

“Y/N,” you answer.

“Ah, it’s so lovely to meet you my dear,” he says, switching back to English for everyone else’s sake you supposed.

The dinner was going amazing, the staff was fantastic and the meal was probably the best you’ve ever had. Everything was great till Harry started to scowl across from you, unsure of why exactly. Someone must’ve said something to tick him off, or maybe he didn’t like the meal he was served. Regardless his bad attitude wasn’t about to ruin this. You kick out your foot and make contact with his shin, he screws up his face and glares at you.

“Hey, m’wearing this suit tomorrow, don’t fuck it up,” he growls. You narrow your eyes at him for the harsh language in front of so many important people.

“Outfit repeater, huh?” you tease him. Yeah, teasing wasn’t the way to go. Harry scowls at you, something you hadn’t seen in a while. You sink back into your seat, watching Harry across from you to try and figure out what’s got him so in his head. But then the waiter that’s been waiting on your table shows up again, leaning over you slightly to fill up your water cup. You smile, looking up to meet the sweet blue eyes of the rather cute Italian young man.

“Nient'altro signora?” he asks softly.

You’re blushing, you just know it, “no, I’m okay,” you reply.

Once the waiter has moved on, you bring your water to your lips and look back across the table. Harry’s scowl hadn’t left his face, in fact it might’ve even gotten harder. You can’t help but roll your eyes at him. This dinner was amazing, incredible and a huge step for his career and yet all he can do it sit there downing his drinks and scowl at everything and everyone around him. Speaking of those drinks, Harry finishes off another glass of whatever liquor he’s been ordering - and of course he catches the waiter just in time to order another.

“Hey,” you whisper shout to Harry as the owner was getting up, mentioning something about dessert in Italian under his breath.

“What?” Harry grunts.

“Slow down on the drinks, you’ve had like triple anyone else has,” you exclaim. Harry only glares at you. “Stop, I’m just doing my job-”

“Well fuck off,” he grumbles, looking away from you and down at his phone screen. You blink a few times, thrown off by his attitude since it’s been a while since he’s been so bluntly rude to you. Taking a deep breath, you have another sip of water and look off down the table to see Jeff staring at you. He needs you to step up again, to get Harry to relax and quit drinking so much.

But you can’t. No matter the amount of kicking of his shine or glaring you do, Harry ignores you scowls and drinks more and more. Finally when it’s time to leave you can tell he’s trying to get ahold of someone. You’re sitting in the seat behind him, reading briefly how he’s getting ahold of some Italian girl to warm his bed tonight. You lean back in your seat and stare out the window as it feels like someone’s punching you in the gut. This was why you shouldn’t have gotten inside of your own head this past little while, thinking all about how nice it would be if Harry maybe felt the same way you were - but after tonight and seeing him text some floozy, it’s obvious he could never.

⏤

You were having a bad day. Since the moment you woke up, ignoring Jeff request to get Harry up, you haven’t been having the best of days. You had forgotten about doing laundry so all you had to wear were the same Gucci high waisted black pants from last night - which makes you feel hypocritical since you bugged Harry about being an outfit repeater. Plus all you could think about was how you managed to let your feelings get in the way of your work.

So after eating something at catering with Clare and Helene, you ended up wandering the hallways. Jeff comes into view as you get close to backstage. He’s glaring, which makes you slightly nervous as you approach him.

“Harry’s locked himself in the dressing room,” he states, “I don’t care if there’s a half naked lady or red wine staining those stupid Gucci pillows of his, get in there and get him going,”

“Yeah,” you pause and nod, “okay, uh, yeah,” you mumble, turning around and slowly making your way towards the dressing room. You’re taking your time, nervous of what you’re about to get yourself into. Because you’re not entirely sure your heart can handle it after the past 24 hours.

You’re pulling gently at the tour shirt you tucked into your pants. Kicking out your sneakers against the pavement floors up till you get to the looming door to the dressing room. Maybe you could just pound on the door, yell something and then run away like a little baby. You roll your eyes at yourself and lift your fist up to knock on the door. It was time to act your age, push away any and all feelings for Harry, and do your damn job.

“Harry,” you say loudly with your face right up by the door. He doesn’t answer. “Harry, open the door,” you try again.

You sigh in defeat. This was ridiculous, the show started in less than two hours and you knew he wouldn’t be getting ready in there by himself. He was probably getting drunk, or maybe he wasn’t alone at all and had found himself some hot blonde who worked at the arena. You find yourself frowning at the thought. You sigh again before bringing your fist to the door and knocking.

“Grumpy, hello, open up,” you groan, growing rather tired of this already.

Again no answer. You press your ear to the door, hesitate at first because if he really did find someone who worked here to have a quick fuck you weren’t going to like hearing that at all. But there’s nothing. It’s like he’s not even in there. You take a deep breath and reach for the handle, maybe Harry had left since Jeff checked up on him. But of course you’re wrong as you jiggle the knob and it doesn’t open.

“Harry, seriously!” You shout this time, not caring about the few looks you get from crew members passing by.

Then without any warning, the dressing room door opens and you’re being pulled into the room by Harry’s large hands. His one hand stays glued to your arm while the other shuts the door behind the both of you, he pushes you back till your back hits the door. You furrow your brows and stare up at Harry, meeting his wild green eyes. There’s barely a breath from either of you before he’s leaning forward and pressing his lips to yours.

The kiss brings a warmth over your entire body. You feel like your chest is going to explode from the feeling you get. It only takes you maybe half a second before your brain kicks in and both your hands are tangled up in Harry’s hair while your lips move with his. Harry’s lips are hot against yours but it felt too good to stop. Next thing you know his teeth graze your bottom lip, causing you to open your mouth and let him slip his tongue in. Your getting dizzy now, grasping onto his shoulder hard while his hands feel cold against your warn skin, having made their back under your skirt and drawing up and down your back. You’re so in the moment, enjoying this way too much, but then it hits you.

“Harry,” you breath out his name, pushing back his shoulder just a bit so his lips move further away from yours. “We shouldn’t,” you add in a low voice.

“No, we shouldn’t,” Harry agrees, his words hot on your skin. But then he’s moving back towards your face again and your stomach is doing those god damn twists and turns. You practically melt into him as his hand firmly presses your hips into his, leaving your head to lean back into the door again as he kisses you.

Harry’s hand lifts up to your jaw, thumb resting gently on your chin as he tips your head further upwards while he puts every bit of energy he must have into this kiss. You have never been kissed like this. Such urgency and desire, all while his touch makes you feel light inside. You breath out deeply through your nose, running a hand from his temple all the way through his hair. He’s massaging your hip when you finally snap out of the exhilarating kiss.

You move so quickly, pushing away his arms and stepping into the middle of the dressing room. It takes you a moment to catch your breath, your hand absentmindedly moving to your lips to just graze over them - they felt like they were vibrating. A million thoughts are running through your mind, the biggest one being what the hell just happened...

“Last night, you - you slept with some whore and now you think you can just come onto me like this?” you bellowed. You had hoped your voice came out sounding less weak than you were feeling right about now.

“I didn’t sleep with anyone last night,” Harry states. His voice sounding closer while you hear his boots smacking against the floor, softening as they meet the carpet you’re currently standing on.

“What the hell, Harry?” you hiss, turning on your heels to see he’s only an arms reach away.

He looks as bewildered as you felt. His hair flipped to the left, a large piece falling over his forehead while the rest all stuck out funny. But of course he made it work. Those stupid green eyes are soft, there’s no scowl or glare or anything like you were so used to. You swallow back the lump in your throat and lick your lips as your eyes fall down to his - why did you want to feel them against yours again so desperately?

“You were acting out last night, you were a proper asshole to me last night,” you say.

“Last night,” Harry begins, his voice louder now, “it all fucking hit me like a damn truck, Y/N. You were flirting with that waiter right in front of me and speaking Italian to him and I got fucking jealous,”

You’re chewing on your bottom lip as you take in each word Harry had just said. He was jealous. He was jealous over you. And now he kissed you. Harry kissed you. You blink rapidly at him as your brain was an utter mess. Then your gaze meets the floor as you try to think of what you’re going to say next.

“M’sorry,” Harry sighs. Your head snaps back up to meet his stare. “For being such an ass last night, and for kissing you like that. That wasn’t fair of me,”

You open your mouth, ready to tell Harry that it was okay. Because you wanted that kiss, regardless how many times you tried to tell yourself you didn’t. But then your cell phone is going off in the pocket of your pants. It’s almost as though the sound brings you both out of some trans, Harry clears his throat and shifts on his feet while you take the phone out of your pocket. It’s Jeff.

“Hey,” you answer.

“Is he alive? What the hell is going on?” Jeff questions you.

“Yeah, he’s fine,”

Harry looks back to you as he grasps the fact you’re talking about him. He’s taken a seat on the arm of the sofa, staring at you as you listened to Jeff order you to get him ready - time was ticking before the show here in Bologna, Italy was to start. You give Jeff short answers while pointing Harry to the wardrobe rack. Harry rolls his lips into his mouth, waiting a moment before reluctantly walking over to the pink suit hanging up for him.

“Yeah, 20 minutes, I got it,” you nod.

“Thanks for getting to him, Y/N. Don’t know where we’d be without you,”

“Uh, without a main act I’d assume,” you joke, chuckling under your breath.

“Wouldn’t that be fun,” Jeff chuckles a lot more light heartedly than you. You hear him talking to someone else before he’s quickly saying goodbye and hanging up the phone. Taking the phone away from your ear, you look towards Harry and run a hand through your own hair at the sight of his.

“20 minutes, please don’t lock yourself in here again,” you say. Harry holds your gaze and you swear you feel your heart ache in your chest. Once he gives you a nod, you turn on your heels and leave the room. There was no way you could just sit in there and hangout till he was ready.

You don’t see off Harry before he walks on stage. But you do stand by Jeff like you always do, watching Harry before the screen rises up. His eyes are glued to the floor, not seeming to even realize when the fans start to lose their minds and scream for him as he’s revealed from behind the scene. You have your arms crossed at your chest, your head feeling like it’s about to explode from everything that had just happened in the past bit, maybe you should go back and take a nap.

“I’m heading backstage,” you tell Jeff. He nods to you and then you’re walking away from the stage to go lay down in the dressing room.

No amount of rest could prepare you for the call you take as you sit on the sofa. It’s quiet in the room, no one else is around, all you can hear is the faint sound of Harry’s songs. As you have your phone pressed to your ear, you’re no longer thinking about the kiss or your feelings towards Harry at all. All you can think about is you needed to get on the next flight back home.

⏤

“She left?” Harry questions Jeff as they walk backstage to the dressing room. He had immediately noticed your absence and asked Jeff where you had gone. He expected maybe you were having a little nap before the show was over. But he wasn’t expecting to hear you had gotten on a plane and left him behind.

“Yes, she’s on her way back to the US right now,” Jeff states.

Harry’s eyebrows pull together as he lets his thoughts overwhelm his head. He had done this. He had to go and kiss her like that and now she had run away from him. This was all his fault. How stupid could he be? You worked for him, you kicked woman from his hotel room too many times, why did he think you could possibly feel the same way he did about you..

Harry keeps quiet the whole ride to the private jet that’s waiting for him and the band. He takes a seat, staring at the empty one in front of him before he pulls out his phone. Harry stares at the screen, thinking of what he’d even say to you. Maybe he could just say sorry a bunch of times till you got annoyed and came back. He sighs and leans back in the seat as he hears the jets start up.

“Sir, please turn your phone off,” the flight attendant asks, bending close towards him. Typically Harry would shamelessly check the young woman out. But not tonight. Right now, Harry’s itching for a drink.

“Bring me somethin’ to drink, somethin’ hard,” he orders her in a harsh voice.

part 2 >>

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #yeah this is a lot #but i hope you guys all enjoyed it #ive already been working on a part 2 #i kinda just wanna make this a 3 part mini series #i cant promise the other parts will be as long as this one lol #but ill try #pls give me feedback though #its always lovely to get #also im sure this isnt perfect cause i read over it so much i think my brain like ignored some spelling things lol #i had to edit the like cuts or whatever cause mobile tumblr SUCKS

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