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finelinevogue · 1 year

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in this world, it’s just us

summary - you and harry attend the Brits, drink a little and love each other a lot

warnings: alcohol consumption, swearing, pregnancy talk?!, tears of joy

word count: +4.3k

pairing: famous!reader x harry

“Y/N, babe? Jeff needs us to– Woah!”

Harry entered the bedroom where you were getting ready. You were surrounded by Harry’s hair and make-up team whilst you got dressed for the Brit Awards tonight.

You blushed a smile as Harry’s jaw dropped a little and put a hand over his heart, as if you’d just punctured him there.

“What?” You asked, pretending like you didn’t know you’d just given him a minor heart attack with how good you looked - because you did look amazing.

“You… Just wow, lovie.” He smiled.

“Wow to you too.” You replied, allowing him to come and give you a quick chaste kiss. He didn’t want to get told off for ruining your makeup yet, but later on in the evening there was going to be no stopping his flirtatious self all over you.

“Y’going to the Brits like that, hun?” Bella, a make-up specialist, asked Harry as she pointed to his displayed abs.

“If m’wife lets me? Yeah.” Harry posed with his hands on his hips, making people whistle in admiration for him. Harry blushed and awkwardly laughed then, getting shy over the attention he was being given.

“Well, as much as I love your body I do love the suit as a complete look.” You explained.

“Y’love my body do you?” He raised his eyebrows and gave you a flirtatious look.

“Of course that’s all you took from what I said.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head playfully. “Now go get ready before Jeff tells you off.”

“Okay, okay! Couldn’t get enough of me this morning and now you’re sending me away like I’m an expired carton of milk.”

“What even..?” Harry Lambert laughed, standing in the doorway probably looking for Harry. People in the room started laughing too, but Harry was only looking at you to gauge your reaction. He didn’t care if he made a whole room of people laugh, because it was only your reaction that meant any value to him.

So when you chuckled, he couldn’t help but chuckle too because he had put that smile on your face and he’d be damned if he didn’t take a minute to soak up the sunshine radiating from you.

“Baby, you know I love you but we need to hurry up.” You calmed yourself from laughing too much.

“Okay. One more kiss, though?”

Of course you instantly nodded, bringing Harry in for a few more kisses than just the one. He repeatedly kissed you, until he knew that you’d got the memo that he loved you very much.

“Did I mention y’look beautiful?” He whispered against your lips and it made the people around you swoon over how perfectly he treated you. If only everyone had a Harry in their lives.

“Mhm.” You nodded, still in post-bliss from his kisses.

After a few more kisses and a stern shout from Harry Lambert, for Harry to come and finish getting ready, Harry was out of the room and you were back to getting ready yourself. Bella re-touched-up your lipstick and Kenna fastened the straps on your heels for you. Before you knew it, you were completely glammed up and ready to go to the Brits.

“That man’s love for you is unconditional.” Bella made heart eyes after your interaction with Harry.

“I like to think so, yeah.” You chuckled, walking across the room to collect your purse and start breaking in your heels.

“The man on the moon could see his heart beating for you, Y/N, seriously.” Kenna added.

You stood in front of the floor-length mirror and straightened out all the tiny creases in your dress. It was a gorgeous black dress, to match Harry’s black suit. You had never been too confident with your body’s shape, however with the warm embrace of Harry’s love you had come to learn to love yourself too. Tonight was a tribute to how much you’d fallen in love with your body.

“Yeah. I mean, I wish my fiancè looked at me like that.” Bella sighed. “Did Harry fall in love with you more after he married you?”

“I can’t speak for him but…” You started.

“Yeah.” Harry stood behind you and you viewed his outfit through the mirror. He looked absolutely incredible. “I fucking did.”

“Ugh.” Harry Lambert gagged over how romantic the room had just gotten. “You’re disgusting.”

You turned around as Harry walked towards you. You held out a hand for him to hold and you felt the cool of his rings burn your skin before his skin did. You hummed in delight as he interlinked his fingers through yours, tilting your head up to give him access to your lips once more. The strand of hair that dangled over Harry’s forehead had you in a chokehold and you delicately reached up to play with it.

“You look so pretty.” You smiled up at him, him smiling down at you.

Neither of you had started on the drinks yet, but the way that Harry’s eyes were glossed over slightly could have fooled anyone into thinking he was drunk. Turns out that’s just what Harry’s eyes do when he looks at the people he loves.

“Alright, before you two start mauling each other’s faces off, I want photos.” Harry Lambert ordered, pushing Harry’s shoulder lightly to get him to snap out of his focused daze on you.

Harry moved around you so that he was standing slightly behind you. His arm firmly wrapped around your waist and your hand rested over his hand that laid there. Your head slightly tilted into Harry’s chest, whilst Harry’s rested on top of yours. You knew these photos would become Harry’s newest home screen, because he always wanted the most up-to-date photo of you both to admire.

You swapped between a few poses, before Harry Lambert was satisfied and left everyone to do their final checks before leaving.

You pulled Harry back in front of the mirror and pulled out your phone to take a few photos with him, both his arms slinking over your shoulders and leaning his head down to be closer to yours. The photos were sickeningly cute. Only you could convince Harry to take a mirror selfie.

Harry kissed your cheek before saying, “Right. I’m going to go meet the driver and then we are ready to head out, yes?”

“Yes.”

••••

On the red carpet you and Harry stood separately, because Jeff wanted Harry to get some solo photos.

You had been taking photos together for a little while, posing next to each other and sending the media into a frenzy when Harry kissed you.

It wasn’t your first red carpet appearance together, but you and Harry did enjoy keeping your relationship as closed off to the public as possible. It was a little hard, since you were both A-list celebrities, but you made it work in the best way possible for you.

You and Harry had met each other through Tyler, Harry’s producer. You had written a few songs with Tyler before and had suggested that a song you’d written, called ‘Music For A Sushi Restaurant’, might be something that Harry would like. You’d seen him around and thought he was the kind of guy to enjoy a funky song like ‘Sushi’. You never actually expected him to feature the song on his album, let alone ask you out for a drink to talk more about songwriting together.

Harry’s House was a project close to Harry’s heart, not only because it was an album filled with such raw and emotional songs but also because you had written all of the songs with him. He had fallen in love with your style of writing so much that he didn’t want to feature a single song on his album that didn’t include you.

Thanks to Harry, Harry’s House and the hard work you both put in to writing the songs, you had both been nominated and won a Brit Award for ‘Songwriter of the Year’. You never thought you’d even be a recognised name in the music industry, let alone winning Brit Awards, and it was all thanks to Harry.

Over the course of writing Harry’s House you had taken a strong liking towards one another, until one day Harry had solidified his attraction towards you when he kissed you in the middle of writing ‘Grapejuice’ with each other.

The rest was history.

So, when you were stopped on the red carpet and asked to come a little further down to the presentation carpet you furrowed your eyebrows in compliance. You followed the usher down the carpet, hearing Harry ask Jeff, behind you, where you were going.

You stood on the presentation carpet, next to a life-size Brit award waiting for what came next. Roman Kemp came on the carpet next with a microphone.

“Oh no.. I was promised no interviews!” You blushed, covering your mouth with your hand to hide the embarrassment. You were very shy when it came to public media interaction and found that as a result you were socially awkward.

You looked around to try and spot Harry, finally noticing him behind the camera’s smiling at you. He was stood with his hands behind his back and leaning his weight onto one leg, looking like the Gucci model he always is.

“Don’t worry. No interviews.” Roman clarified, calming your nerves instantly. “We are actually here with you, Y/N, because you have won ‘Songwriter of the Year’, correct?”

“I believe so, although I still can’t comprehend why!” You laughed, blushing even harder because you weren’t sure whether that was something to even laugh over. You looked to Harry instantly and saw that he was shaking his head in disbelief that you’d just said that about yourself.

“Well, I am here to present you your award. Congratulations Y/N on winning ‘Songwriter of the Year’!” Roman cheered and then the surrounding media, camera crew and Harry’s team all cheered too. Harry whistled using his fingers in his mouth, making you drop your head in embarrassment over the attention.

Roman handed you the award and you took it graciously, thanking him kindly. You looked towards Harry, again, and watched him continue to whistle for you. You laughed and put your hand over your heart, thanking everyone you could, which was a habit that you’d picked up from Harry.

You hugged Roman briefly and then moved over towards Harry. His arms awaited for you as you happily ran over. He bent down slightly to pick you up by your lower waist, before lifting you up off the floor and swaying you from left to right. One of your arms wrapped around the back of his neck whilst the other stayed to the side holding your Brit. You giggled into his neck as he left a few dozen kisses on yours.

“I’m so fucking proud of you, y’know?” He said, kissing over your skin once more with a little more bite.

“I know.” You whispered just below his ear, kissing his tiny ear lobe then making him chuckle.

“And I really do love you.”

“I really do love you too.”

••••

The venue inside was magical.

The iconic tables were all set out and the audience were already sitting high in their seats. No doubt the fans were already recording videos of you and Harry walking to your table. Harry had invited so many people to the Brits tonight they had two tables reserved for him.

On one table was his band and other people from his record label, whilst the other was reserved for family, his management and you. Of course he was sitting on the table with you.

He held your hand tight as you weaved through the tables, turning around every so often to make sure you were alright still. At one point you spotted Jessie J and tugged on Harry’s hand to catch his attention. He raised his eyebrows to ask what was wrong.

“Jessie’s over there. I want to congratulate her on her pregnancy.” You said, tugging his hand again for him to follow you. Harry was quick to walk behind you and follow you without stepping on your dress.

“Are we sure she’s pregnant?” Harry asked. “The last time I assumed a woman was pregnant it did not go down well.”

“Yeah, I’m still not over that by the way...” You stopped short to pinch his nipple over his silk shirt. Little did you know that that one action from you would cause global fan casualties and trends on Twitter later on.

“Well, if you let me actually make you pregnant, baby, it’ll go down better when I ask.” He smirked, enjoying the feeling of you pressing up against him as you stopped. Your ass was pressed back against him and he moved in even closer to get a better feel.

“That comment just cost you drunk after-party sex.” You faked a small smile, before walking forwards a bit more, leaving Harry behind to feel sorry for himself.

You reached Jessie and congratulated her on her pregnancy, having a laugh with her. It had been a while since you’d seen each other and you both agreed you would have to start writing with each other again soon. Jessie told you to get Harry over to see her at some point in order to congratulate him on his opening performance.

Once you made it back to your table, Harry was busy talking to Rob Stringer and you assumed he wouldn’t notice you after your minor argument. You were wrong, however. Harry stood out of his chair and pulled yours back for you, all whilst keeping his conversation with Rob going. You thanked him kindly as he pushed your chair under the table for you and sat back down himself. His hand went straight to rest on the back of your chair behind you and he crossed his legs over, pointing his body towards yours. This was a silent tell to you that he was working up an apology.

Before you could start up a conversation with anyone, Harry pulled your chair closer to him which made you gasp at the sudden movement.

“What are you-”

“I’m sorry.” Harry said, kissing your cheek afterwards. “I won’t ever ask if you, or any other woman, is pregnant again. I’ll wait for you, and them, to tell me first.”

“Thank you.” You nodded and leant in to kiss him. He eagerly complied and gave you slightly more than just a peck, but enough to keep it P.G. in front of his team, family and thousands of fans. “It’s still a maybe to the sex, though.”

“I’ve got time to change it to a yes.” He smirked, before kissing your forehead and settling down as the lights went down in the arena.

The screams increased and Salma walked on the stage to present the first award. You rested your head on Harry’s shoulders, leaning into him for some extra comfort. He was happy to let you lean on him, not caring if his suit was now stained a little with makeup from your cheek.

“And the winner of Best Pop Vocal/R&B act is…” Salma paused to create tension.

“It’s gotta be you.” You whispered to him and Harry nudged you gently with his shoulder, because if there was one thing he wasn’t capable of it was taking a compliment - like most British people in fact.

“The one and only..” Salma continued, making you sit up straight and look at Harry who was trying to hide his smirk. “Harry Styles.”

“Yes!” You screamed, throwing your arms around him. He was laughing into your neck as he tugged you back tightly. You knew you couldn’t hold him for long, but when you pulled away - because Harry never pulled away from your hugs first - he kissed your cheek generously. You continued to smile as he hugged Rob and then Gemma as he walked past her.

You continued standing as he reached the podium to give his awards speech, cupping your hands over your mouth to try and hide your very obvious grin. You tried not to vigorously scream when you noticed the single strand of hair dangle over his forehead, but it was very difficult considering he looked so hot.

“Uh…” He started by saying, holding his Brit in the air graciously. “Thank you so so much for this, uh. First of all..” He turned to his fans in the seats behind him, “Thank you. Um, first of all I know this was a fan voted award, so to all my fans who voted thank you so so much.” You mentally patted yourself on the back. “It’s, uh, I have so many wonderful memories at the Brits. Thank you for another one. It is so good to be home, thank you so so much.”

You cheered and screamed like everyone else around you as he continued to thank everyone. Gemma leaned over to you, already slightly tipsy on the prosecco. “Wonder whether by ‘home’ he meant you?”

You had spent so much time away from Harry, whilst both of you were so focused on various other projects, that it had been so long since you’d seen each other. Now you were back with each other, Gemma was right, it felt like home.

As Harry made his way back to the table he had stopped off to get some shots. He had bought five and managed to spill none on his way over to his seat. He bent over next to you when he had made it back, kissing the side of your head before placing the shots on the table.

“One for you,” He said, handing it off to Jeff. “You,” to Rob, “Gem,” he passed one over to his sister, “And finally you.” He placed it in front of you.

“What’s this for?” You laughed, knowing Harry knew you hated doing shots.

“You’re taking this shot for me, okay?” He ordered, sitting back down in his chair.

“But.. What even is it?” You scoffed.

“Tequila.” Everyone groaned when he said that.

“Oh shut up, the lot of you.” He pulled a face, holding his shot up ready to cheer.

You all cheered each other's shot glasses, tapped them down on the table before knocking them back. Harry didn’t make a face after his, but you ended up coughing. It was so horrible. Harry already had a chaser in his hand ready for you and it made your heart warm that he knew you so well - or your heart could’ve just been warm from the tequila.

“Y’okay?” He laughed, just asking you. You nodded with a sour face. You had a feeling tonight was going to be a heavy one.

••••

Harry had won two more awards and had progressively got more drunk, which only meant that he had gotten more flirty and handsy with you.

He had just kissed Lewis Capaldi and made his way back over to your table after winning ‘Song of the Year’.

You were slightly drunk yourself from having a few too many drinks with Harry - especially with the tequila shots. Your eyes were slightly drowsy as Jeff talked to you.

“What are you and Harry doing tomorrow?” He asked.

“Um, breakfast at that pub we like, then I think he said he’s got meetings with you all afternoon about tour.” Your words slightly slurred together as you tried really hard to concentrate on the words you wanted to use.

“Ah, fuck the meetings. Have him to yourself tomorrow.” Jeff waffed his hand like it was no big deal.

“Oi, you two better be talking about me here.” Harry came up behind you and slunk an arm over your shoulders, kissing your head for good measure.

Harry made you sit back down and handed you a glass of water that he’d picked up along his way back to you.

“Y’feeling okay? A little tipsy, hm?” Harry asked, sitting down next to you and bringing you in closer to kiss your forehead a few times.

“I’m okay.” You said, but it sounded like it was all one word.

“Drink this, alright? For me?” Harry asked, holding the glass of water up to your lips. You took little sips, until you took too much and it started to dribble out of your mouth. Harry stopped and used his thumb to wipe up the wet mess, smiling at you for being so chaotic when drunk.

“You cheated on me.” You pouted after he’d cleaned you up.

“What?” Harry furrowed his eyebrows in confusion.

“Yeah. Y-You cheated on me with Lewis.” You hiccuped out.

“Ohh. To be fair though, you cheated on me with Rina.” Harry raised his eyebrows, smirking at you like two could play your game.

You hummed in delight and smiled when you thought about Rina, who was yours and Harry’s best friend. You’d spent copious amounts of time with her in Japan back in 2018 and you’d all quickly become really good friends.

“Guess we’re both cheaters.” You said, your eyes heavy under the influence.

“Don’t say that. Don’t like it when you say things like that. Kissing you is different to kissing anyone else. With Lewis, or-or with Nick, it’s different. Like they’re m’bestfriends and it’s just a friendly kiss. With you, though..” Harry stopped to hum and smile, “With you the whole world stops a-and m’heart feels like it’s never going to get enough. ‘Cause I love you in a way I never have, and never will, love anybody else.”

Your eyes teared up over listening to him and you leaned forwards, but stopped yourself short when a few tears started to fall. “Fuck.” You mumbled to yourself, wiping your tears away. “Dude, that was too much.” You groaned, trying to blink back any more tears.

“Hey, look at me.” Harry asked and you tilted your head to the side.

“Don’t you dare say anything more romantic. I’m not emotionally stable enough.” You chuckled.

“No. I was just going to say that I love you so much.”

You leant forwards and captured your lips with his, pressing yourself into him to give him a little more than a quick kiss. You pressed your lips deeper onto his, but pulled away before he could really get into it. Because once Harry got into it, especially when he was tipsy, there was absolutely no stopping him.

“I love you.” He repeated himself, looking hazily between your eyes and your lips with a half pout.

“I love you too.” You smiled and kissed him once more.

Then Stanley Tucci made it to the stage to present the award for ‘Album of the Year’. You and Harry settled back down, only after Harry reminded you to drink more of your water. You rolled your eyes, but listened to him nevertheless.

“And the winner for ‘Album of the Year is..” Stanley paused as he opened the card.

“Harry, Harry, Harry.” You repeatedly whispered under your breath, earning a laugh from Jeff.

“Harry Styles!” He called out and Harry went crazy, screaming and bashing the table in excitement. You rocketed onto your feet and cheered for him with every vocal chord you could strain. Gemma screamed with him and he hugged her first, making you awe at the moment. He was quick to turn around to you and pull you in for a bone crushing hug too, kissing your neck a few times.

“Have I changed it to a yes, now?” He spoke next to your ear above the deafening screams. Of course this man was thinking about his post-show shag rather than the actual award he’d just won. You laughed as he pulled back.

“Who wouldn’t want to sleep with a 4-time Brit winner?” You said and it made him smirk really hard, licking his lips quickly before he was ushered to walk to the stage. You continued to clap and scream as he walked up onto the stage, never wanting this moment to end. Harry’s time at the Grammy’s had been a lot more tense and sophisticated than this, so it was nice for him to let loose once in a while.

“Fuck.” He said away from the microphone, but it was still picked up. “Wow.” He recovered from his slip up on live television. “There’s literally no one in this world I love more than Stanley Tucci, so this means so much.” He giggled.

“Rude.” You said under your breath, but Gemma and Jeff laughed making you think you’d said that a little too loudly.

You stood tall and proud as you watched Harry um and awe over his award briefly, perhaps because he was drunk but more so because he’d won ‘Album of the Year’ at both the Grammy’s and the Brits in the same year. That must be some sort of record.

It was his final speech that made the tears restart and your heart fall in love all over again.

“This, uh, night has been really really special to me and I will never forget it. Thank you so much for the welcome home. I appreciate it so much. There is no place like home. Thank you, thank you, thank you so much. So proud to be a British artist and so proud to be here tonight celebrating British artists and British music. Thank you, thank you, thank you. Oh and I should probably mention that none of this would have been possible without my best friend and collaborator, Y/N. This is as much your award as it is mine. Honestly, I have never worked with someone more dedicated to their craft than Y/N. Y/N, you inspire me to be a better person every day and I’m so happy, and grateful, to be doing this with you. I love you. Thank you.”

#harry styles #harry styles x reader #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fanfic #ask finelinevogue #harry blurb #finelinevogue #harry styles concept #harry oneshot #harry styles brits #harry styles brit award #harry styles album of the year #harry styles brits 2023 #harry styles brits fic #harry styles husband #harry styles blurbs #harry styles masterlist #harry styles fluff

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dead-bouquet · 1 year

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DP x DC thoughts

Every fanfic and prompt I read has danny either pretending to be older than he is or just outright telling people he is a child.

I’d love to see actual thousands of years old danny who lost his family and has been in his castle for so many years that he’s become a shell of himself. He’s super knowledgeable, super powerful, but he’s just t i r e d.

Not to mention he can change his form like clockwork if he wanted to but most of the time he stays in his 14 yr old form cuz that’s the most comfortable.

Now imagine the JL come in. They summon the Ghost King because they need help and omg that is a child on the throne with a dead eye stare but he’s super powerful and helps them for no fee and and bruce is already pulling out the adoption papers.

Dick gaining an older brother figure and learning not everything has to be on his shoulders.

Jason and Danny bonding over being forced to adapt to a world that’s mourned and moved on from them and the struggle to learn to fit in again (because jason is technologically illiterate with all the advancements he missed and you can pry that head cannon out of my cold dead hands).

Tim gaining an older brother who actually listens to his rants and pushes him towards new info cuz danny has lived for so long and duh he knows stuff.

Damian just being a language nerd with danny and learning some languages that have been lost to time (because now he can shit talk about drake without anyone knowing)

Duke just vibin with this bright ass creature but hey? at least there’s another meta in the fam.

Danny spoils the girls cuz they remind him of dani and jazz.

all the while danny slowly gains his spark back and becomes more and more like his old self.

Just... let me have millennia old danny being a shit disturber.

#dc x dp #let danny be old #danny phantom #ghost king danny #constantine is there but nopes tf out cuz he's not touching danny's shit with a ten foot pole #it'd be the first smart thing he does in his entire life #too bad danny sees disgruntled brit with his soul torn to pieces and just goes oh worm?#bruce tries to parent danny and danny just makes himself older #Bruce: danny you can't have cereal for dinner #Danny: back in my day the youngins used to respect their elders #instead of asking bruce for permission the batkids just start asking danny #batman #batfam #danny likes poison ivy because she reminds him of sam and oops guess that toxic waste plant just mysteriously blew up #my post

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pedro-pascal · 2 years

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the whole world @ UK

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thebearsfrombeartown · 7 months

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no one writes human beings like fredrik backman

#fredrik backman #beartown #anxious people #My Grandmother Asked Me to Tell You She's Sorry #a man called ove #brit marie was here #like for fucks sake #how is this man so fucking insanely good #what the actual fuck

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wundrousarts · 3 months

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Any Nevermoor fans in Adelaide??? I am desperate to know what Jess might mention about Silverborn at the Adelaide Festival 😭😭😭

#nevermoor #such a global fan base ….. except when you need to find an australian that isn’t in melbourne #as an American who notoriously lives in a large country that people (Brits) can’t fathom #I am flabbergasted every time I look up Australian locations and distances lol #anyways. I neeeed to know what’s said I need stuff to share and also tide me over 😭#also to add it to my interview database bc I am insane and have a spreadsheet of all that stuff that I turned into a tumblr page. lol.#I emailed asking if it would be recorded in any form and idk if I’ll get a response but I kinda doubt it idk #but who knows! maybe I’ll be surprised! even if this is just like a 15 min talk I would listen to anything Jess says abt nevermoor even lol

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months

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For the prompt game… Worcestershire!

"Woostsher."

"Warkestershyre!"

"Whoosh."

"How--that isn't remotely correct."

"The word makes no sense anyway!"

Wild laughed so hard he snorted milk out of his nose. Malon sighed, patting him on the back as the others continued to argue over how to pronounce Worcestershire sauce. Apparently they'd made a bet, and whoever could get the closest to the correct answer didn't have to do the yearly competency module.

"It's Worcestershire," came a voice from the doorway. Everyone looked over to see Time standing there with a cup of coffee in his hand, eyes half open and unfazed by the chaos.

"That can't be right," Warriors immediately denied.

"He's right," Malon said.

"You're biased!"

Malon raised an eyebrow. "Are you saying I'm wrong?"

Warriors' mouth snapped shut.

Wild snorted again. "She's definitely right."

Time smiled at Warriors. "You can do my training for me, then."

Legend, Wind, and Sky laughed at the army nurse's sour expression.

#you ask skye answers #lovely anon #writing prompt #writing #lu in healthcare #lu legend #lu time #lu malon #lu wild #lu warriors #lu sky #lu wind #the only suitable way to use this word as a prompt is to make fun of how ridiculous it is #sorry Brits

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thetarttfuldickhead · 9 months

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Roy wakes, fully hard and – two seconds later, when the details of the dream return to him – fully panicked.

Fuck.

---

It’s not like he’s never had sex dreams before. Come on. But none of them had featured men (except that weird one about Lee Pace in a banana costume and that hadn’t left him so much turned on as thoroughly confused) and abso-fucking-lutely not a single one of them had starred Jamie Tartt.

Jamie Tartt, who is now standing right in front of him in the dressing room, saying something about football something something, right Coach, something free kicks, and all Roy can think about is how he now has a very vivid idea of what those lips would look like when wrapped around his cock.

Jamie pushes a strand of hair of out of his eyes. They look grey now; in Roy’s dream they were green-tinting-towards-brown and heavy-lidded with lust as Roy had pushed him back on the bed—

Roy can’t stand it. Except one very specific part of him apparently can and no, no, fuck no, he’s not doing this. Without a word he turns on his heel and walks away, ignoring Jamie’s surprised objection.

Fuck.

---

Training is a nightmare.

The only way Roy can get through it at all is by not sparing Jamie a single glance. (Jamie running, dribbling, shooting; Jamie turning and twisting, as graceful as water; Jamie with hair damp with sweat and calling out to the others with that eager voice that had called out Roy’s name last night.) It’s really fucking difficult, though, because he’s used to always keeping at least half an eye on Jamie these days, no matter what else is going on. Besides, the prick’s everywhere, rushing around the pitch like the fucking Duracell Bunny on speed. Roy clearly made a huge mistake ever pushing him towards the heights of endurance because the little shit just. won’t. stop.

Roy’s attempts at avoidance don’t go unnoticed, either. He can feel the eyes of Beard and Nate on him; can see the way the other players look from him to Jamie and mutter among themselves.

He makes them run suicides until they collapse just to shut them up and when Jamie is the only one still on his feet Roy tells Beard that oh fuck, he has a really important meeting he needs to go to right now, he fucking forgot about it and now he’s running late, could Beard and Nate finish this up please, and of course Roy doesn’t flee from the pitch because Roy Kent doesn’t fucking flee from anything. He walks off rather hurriedly, sure, but that’s just to properly sell the lie of the meeting he’s in a rush to.

“Yeah, something is definitively up with him and Jamie,” he hears Beard mutter to Nate as he walks off.

Fuck.

---

He withdraws to the supply cupboard where he’s not likely to be disturbed, or found. He’s not hiding, obviously; he just needs a few moments to himself, to gather his wits. He’d drive home, except he actually does have a meeting with Rebecca in a couple of hours, and she is the one person he daren’t piss off. Not because she’s terrifying – although she can be, a fact that Roy respects immensely – but because she’ll know that something is off if he doesn’t show and unlike everyone else she has both the guts and the capacity to force it out of him.

In a farcical turn of events, which he entirely blames on Dr. Sharon (and maybe also on Keeley and Jamie a little, for their absurd and sometimes infectious tendency towards emotional honesty), Roy thinks that maybe he wouldn’t mind talking to someone about this. Maybe it would… help? Give him some perspective on things?

Problems is, there’s no one he can talk to, is there? Jamie is right out, for obvious reasons, and while this would probably be right up the Diamond Dogs’ alley, there’s no fucking way Roy is telling his fellow coaches and the club’s director of football operations about having a wet dream about the team’s star player. Apart from the utter mortification of it, it’s hardly fair on Jamie, having almost all his bosses discuss him like that. Even if it’s not the real Jamie they’d be discussing, really, just the very bendable and delightfully masochistic Jamie that’s taken shameless residence in Roy’s battered mind.

He can’t talk to Rebecca, for the same reason, even though he’s pretty sure she’d be able to say something clever enough and cutting enough that he’d snap right out of whatever the hell this is. Maybe she’d declare him clinically insane and unfit for duty and have him carted off to an asylum or some shit, and as much as that would suck it’d be a bit of a relief, honestly. At least he wouldn’t near twist his neck off his shoulders trying to avoid looking at Jamie.

Jamie would probably come and visit him, the fucking arsehole.

And Roy can’t talk to Keeley, either, because even though she’s probably the best person to bring this to and the person he’d most like to talk to, she’s been clear about having no interest in sorting Roy and Jamie’s shit out for them. Besides, he doesn’t want to somehow give her the idea that he’s over her. He’s not. He had a pretty wild dream about her just the other week, and—

For a brief moment, he’s assailed by the image of Keeley and Jamie tangled on Roy’s mattress, looking up at him with twin smiles and—

In spite of the cupboard being rather chilly, Roy starts to sweat. Desperately, he crosses his legs and forces his mind back to the time when he took a chug of orange juice only for it to be egg yolk and he nearly threw up.

It doesn’t really help. He’s still turned on, only now he’s feeling sick too.

He could talk to Dr. Sharon, he guesses, but Dr. Sharon is travelling southern France for the rest of the week.

Roy won’t last that long.

Fuck.

---

The door to the cupboard is pulled open with enough force to almost startle Roy off of the bucket he’s sat on.

“All right, what the fuck’s going on, man?” Jamie demands, without even having the decency to look surprised at finding Roy hiding hanging out among the mops and micro fibre cloths. “Did you hit your head and forget the last two years or something?”

“Of course not,” Roy mutters, determinedly not looking up from the computer precariously balanced on his lap.

“Then why the fuck are you ignoring me? The lads all think I did something really bad!” There’s a plaintive note in Jamie’s voice, reminding Roy of the noises dream-Jamie had made when Roy—

Roy closes his eyes. He can’t go on like this. He’s pretty sure that if he could just get a day or two – three or four tops, absolutely no more than five – away from Jamie, away from these constant reminders, the details of the dream would fade away, and his desire with it – but they have a game the day after tomorrow, so that’s not going to happen, and he can’t keep avoiding Jamie until then. It’d be bad for the team – not to mention that he can’t really stomach the hurt he hears in Jamie’s voice.

Nothing for it, then. Fuck it all to hell.

“I had a sex dream,” he grits out, carefully looking to the doorframe right next to Jamie’s face, so that he can catch Jamie’s reactions without having to look him in the eye.

Jamie doesn’t react much, just cocks his head to the side. “You had a sex dream about me?”

“Did I say it was about you, you muppet?!” Conceited prick.

“Uh, no, but it was? You wouldn’t be all weird about it if wasn’t.” Trust Jamie to always choose the worst moments to be insightful and reasonable. He’s doing it just to be contrary, Roy’s sure of it.

Jamie’s watching him expectantly, as if believing Roy will elaborate or explain further. Roy doesn’t say a word. Roy is busy stonily inspecting a small speck of dirt on the wall next to Jamie’s face.

Eventually, Jamie lets out a long sigh and rolls his eyes. “Fine. What’s the big deal then?”

Now Roy’s eyes snap to Jamie’s face, because what the hell? “What do you mean, what’s the big deal? You don’t think it’s a little weird and really fucking uncomfortable that I, Roy Kent, had a sex dream about you, Jamie Tartt? I’m your fucking coach! We’re friends!”

Jamie makes a face, like Roy’s being the insane one. “Roy, mate, you’ve seen the wall in my old bedroom. Bunch of half-naked girls and you, right? You never did the math on that?”

Roy has, in fact, never done the math on that. Hasn’t realize there as math to do. “You were impressed by my prowess as a football player,” he tries feebly.

Jamie rolls his eyes. “Um, yeah. Which is hot.”

“… oh.”

Roy doesn’t know what else to say to that. Doesn’t know how to feel about that. Hasn’t the faintest idea about how to even begin to process it.

Jamie is watching him with a small frown. He looks concerned, pitying almost, which makes Roy want to go throw himself in the Thames more than anything else in this discussion has.

“So,” Jamie says eventually, speaking slowly, like he’s trying very hard to find the right words, “all these years and you never once figured that this whole thing we’ve got going, all this fucking tension, that it was… you know… just a little bit sexual?”

“No.”

“What, never?”

“No.”

“That’s fucking mental, man.” Jamie looks like he doesn’t know whether to be incredulous or impressed. Then his eyes widen. “Ooh, is this because men getting with other men was illegal when you were a kid back in the dark ages? They burned people alive and shit, so you’re, like, repressed and stuff?”

Roy is about to bite his head off for pulling out fucking stupid ha ha you’re so old jokes now, except there’s something in Jamie’s eyes giving him the distinct impression that maybe Jamie is deliberatedly being a prick, doing it for Roy’s sake, trying to offer him a sense of normalcy or something, and that’s actually quite sweet, isn’t it? Only that thought has Roy’s heart doing something weird and stupid, so actually no, back to Jamie just being a prick.

“We’re in love with Keeley,” he says, and he means for it to be gruff, but it comes out pleading more than anything else.

“Yeah, I know.” Jamie sounds exasperated. “None of this means we ain’t. Fucking hell, mate, tension’s just tension, yeah, no need to fucking act on it if you don’t want to. And dreams are just dreams. I’m mad fit, you see me running around doing impressive shit all day, course you’re gonna dream about me, be weirder if you didn’t. Bet half the team do the same, anyway. It doesn’t have to mean anything.” Jamie crosses his arms, and looks as serious and decisive as Jamie ever does. “Listen, Coach, we’re playing West Ham this Saturday, and you need to stop being weird about this and start coaching me and not freak everyone out.”

Roy doesn’t ask him what Jamie think he’s been trying to do all day. Not his fault Jamie’s been right there, all pretty eyes and strong thighs and distracting lips and shit. But he doesn’t say that; instead, he sighs, because Jamie, infuriatingly, has a point. “Yeah. Okay. But… just give me a fucking minute. Go get changed and I’ll be there in fifteen, all professional and shit.”

“Great. See you then, Coach.”

Jamie turns and as he walks away Roy can’t help his gaze sliding down to Jamie’s arse, noticing the way the blue shorts cling to the round buttocks, leaving little enough to the imagination, only Roy is imagining what they’d look like sans shorts and red from Roy’s fingers and palm, wondering if the reality would match the dream.

Fuck.

---

Dreams are just dreams. Roy tells Dr. Sharon as much during their next appointment, because even though talking to Jamie helped him pull himself together just enough to muddle through the rest of the week with his sanity mostly intact, he’s still feeling rather rattled by the whole mess. Untethered.

Jamie’s been brilliant, carrying on as if nothing’s changed between them. Somehow, that hasn’t helped as much as Roy would’ve thought it would.

Dr. Sharon listens carefully and without judgement, as she always does. “You’ve had dreams before,” she notes once Roy’s fallen silent. “I’m sure some of them have been strange or unsettling. Has any of them ever affected you like this?”

“No. Like I said, it’s just dreams, right? It’s not real. Shouldn’t affect me. Never fucking does, not even the sexy ones, usually.”

“Right. So why do you think this one was different?”

Roy stares at her. She returns his stare calmly, patiently. Waits, watching him, until he can’t help but catch the shape of it reflected back at him in her kind eyes.

Fuck.

---

“What if I don’t want it to be just a dream?”

“Eh?”

Jamie’s peering at him through the open door, looking like he’s wondering what Roy is doing showing up unannounced and spouting nonsense on his doorstep at half past three on a rest day.

Which, okay, fair enough.

“What if I don’t want it to be just a dream?” Roy repeats, a little slower this time.

For another moment, Jamie just stares at him. Then his eyes widen, lightening up with delight. “Oh! You mean… ?” He gestures between them.

“Yeah,” Roy says and then he’s being pulled into the hallway by his jacket and he has time to think that that they really need to figure out how Keeley fits into all of this and then he has his arms around a body that is firm and solid and there and Jamie Tartt is kissing him and it’s not a dream at all.

Fuck. Oh, fuck… !

#i don’t know. it’s stupid. it’s dumb. here #have an entirely random bisexual awakening ficlet that came to me in my not-yet-sober stupor this morning #why is roy so silly in this you may ask #well have you seen 3x12?#why is roy so silly in that hmmm?#also it's crack #but a little bit it isn’t you know?#special thanks to everyone helping me settle on ‘supply cupboard’#nothing else in this ficlet has been brit-picked bc why start being consistent now?#roy kent #jamie tartt #royjamie #royjamiekeeley #although the royjamiekeeley bit is mostly future #ted lasso #ficlet #my stuff #post-canon

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mrghostrat · 2 months

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i’m european and tremendously enjoying not understanding A Word of cultural lingo that ISNT american for a change so please keep up the good work i am perhaps going to do some google searches later

i'm generally kind of annoyed at stories that take aziraphale and crowley out of england, but i think it's just the constant americanisation that frustrates me. so i have DECIDED i will love and protect good omens aussiefication till the day i die, because there's even less of us on the screen, and we are just a bunch of silly little people making silly little words for ur enjoyment

#ask a rat #had an english plumber come round ot the house last night #i was like ohhh hes looooovely #zita said 'he was english!'#that explained it #gimemgimmegimme more brits in aus #good omens aussiefication

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ohmystarrynight · 1 month

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Consider: I receive Knight Rider Asks and you receive doodles like these. (Plus the secret second thing I receive, which is an excuse to draw more of this)

#concept art #illustration #digital art #pilot's art!#pilot speaks!#knight rider fan art #knight rider #kitt knight rider #Kitt #human!kitt #Michael knight #Bonnie Barstow #Devon miles #found family is a scientist a grumpy Brit a grumpy car and David hasselhoff #please send asks #I want asks #for doodles #pls

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greg-montgomery · 3 months

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HONEY HI

I know I'm coming out of nowhere but I'm literally studying chemistry and I'm basically so tired I might just fall asleep right here right now 🧍 I saw the post and I'm nostalgic for the chats omg 😭 What about a teasy Aaron (they aren't together yet) he sees that she watches a cartoon, and he sees that she has printed pictures, wallpapers and things like that, and he just wonders why!! (you don't have to include this I understand it's pretty difficult in chats, it's just kind of a background 😋). Soo the cartoon is the Powerpuff Girls😋 you already know what I'm talking about 😔 Reader eventually ends up confessing that's because of some character 🤭 and he's like

that looks a lot like me 🧐👍

as usual feel free to change anything, I just needed to let out this thought 😔

Also, how are you doing sweetie??💞

hiii my love!!! i’m doing okay 🥹🩷 i’ve missed you!!

#i also had a crush on this character as a kid help 😭😭😭#aaron hotchner x reader #hotch x reader #aaron hotchner #hotch #hotch 🪐#bau group chat #ask #brit 🪽

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synthetic-psychedelic · 7 months

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The same but smiley 🤍🖤

#me #mine #selfie #b&w #brit #ask #snap #anon

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lottiecrabie · 9 months

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okay same anon here, sending it in for the next blurb night❤️

basically i’ve had this thought since the show actually happened in february but reader is mattys gf and seeing your bf win and be successful has made you so horny.

so basically matty fingering you under the table at the brits and having to act like youre not soaking your chair as the table interacts with each other. and ofc matty is engaging in conversation as normal as if his fingers aren’t inside you. i imagine he does get closer and whisper profanities in your ear to make you cum though 🫶🏻

i am officially leaving this in crabies hands 🕺

making this rockstar girlfriend

your friends surround you, cheering and clapping for the musical acts. categories are announced and won, standing ovations are made for the worthies, and your table gets progressively rowdier. under it, hidden by the white cloth, matty’s fingers dip in your inner thighs.

it’s a light touch at first, taking full advantage of the short skirt you’ve adorned for the occasion. it clings to you, curving in all the right places, a teasing hem revealing your legs licking down to heeled feet, and matty practically begged to stay home when he saw you in it. to no avail, of course. you both had awards to win.

he makes do now, drawing circles and swirls on your inner thighs, climbing up and up your legs. you part them instinctively, gripping your napkin to stop you from making some embarrassing gesture; a moan, or a roll of eyes, or a pleading look. something to catch the camera, be replayed over and over. you maintain a face of ice; you clench the cloth until your knuckles are white.

matty sees the blank expression as a challenge, surely, because he finds your clit over your underwear. a lacy thing, worn just so he could tore it off later. although reasons bang at your temple, you’re too gone now to listen. he presses on your clit, rubbing faintly, and you bite your lip to cut the cry. pleasure strikes through you.

you turn to matty. he smirks, chatting to george. how dare he be so collected, so good at this. you glare at him. in contradiction, your legs spread further, practically begging him for more.

he does a few lazy swipes, making sure you’re ready and dripping for him when he finally tosses your underwear aside. he collects your wetness, smearing it on your clit as he attacks it again. your body tingles, euphoria waking it up gently. you make a small moan; gripping your glass, you take a long mouthful of your wine. in the red, you let yourself whine. just a little, because it’s buried and swallowed.

you know the calluses of his fingers well. they rub at you, aimed and practiced, knowing exactly how to make you fall apart. matty doesn’t seem in a teasing mood, instead circling and swiping at you until you’re breathless.

another category is being won. matty claps lazily with one hand on his knee. you stare at it, at him, make moan you can’t control. with shaky fingers, you clap too, glad the cheers swallow all the pathetic sounds you make.

when you’re already melting on your bones, pleasure swooping at you and coiling around your brain, matty teases your entrance again. he slides in without any more warning, making you gasp. you shove a hand over your mouth, pretend to be fixing your makeup when adam gives you a quizzing look. you grin bashfully at him.

beside you, matty snorts, offkey in his conversation with george. he curls his fingers inside of you, starting a slow pace, which you know perfectly well is just preparation to melt your brain from your ears. pleasure drums on your ribs, practically giggling at you as your legs shake, as your lips is bitten, as you blink your eyes in hope to not roll them tellingly.

he speeds up. of course he speeds up. you want to curse him, you want to hate him, but you roll your hips into his hand, catching your clit. a strike of ecstasy hits you, thundering through your body. pressure builds. you pant, cheeks heating up.

matty detangles himself from his conversation with george. he leans into, so fucking smug and knowing. ‘are you close?’ he whispers.

‘y— yeah,’ you manage out, choked and high-pitched. matty fucks you faster, grinning at you. ‘fuck,’ you breathe out.

your hands hold the edges of the table each. you think they’ll find your claw marks once all is said and done, buried into the wood because of matty fucking healy.

‘should i make you come?’

you whip to him. fear beats in your heart. ‘yes,’ you stress. he can’t leave you like this, wet and throbbing for him, so fucking close you can taste it. ‘yes, matty. please i— i have to—‘

‘you have to come in front of everyone?’ matty arches an eyebrow. you make a low noise, shameful. ‘want everyone to see?’

‘no,’ you whine, shaking your head. ‘just you.’

matty hums, pleased. as reward, he hits you deeper, over and over, vaguely rubbing your clit with his thumb: the most the awkward angle permits it. you bite your tongue. everything in you vibrates.

‘but you can’t hold it in,’ he tsks, like a fact. again, you shake your head, desperate. ‘you’re the one who teased me all day, wearing that dress and not letting me touch you. and now you think you should come?’

‘please,’ you beg.

devilish smile on his face. ‘is that the only word you know?’

‘matty,’ you moan, low. he snorts.

‘cute.’ he takes one of your hand from the table, white knuckled and clenched. kisses it. ‘it’s because you won that i’m letting you,’ he whispers. ‘deserve a prize for that, don’t you?’ you nod eagerly. ‘at home, though…’ he warns, and the letters trail deliciously.

‘whatever you want,’ you immediately promise. thoughtless, but brave. he gives you a look that says basically that.

matty curls his finger just so. you part your lips in wonder. ‘come, love. wanna taste you.’ your orgasm shakes you as soon as he lets it. you drop your head, trying to hide your face as it breaks open for him. you hope the cameras are far, far away.

‘that’s it, baby,’ matty coos as you slowly come back down. ‘just for me. no one can see you. no one hears all the pathetic sounds you make for me. always desperate, fucking throbbing like you’re trying to keep me there.’

slowly, he slips his fingers out of you. you whine, louder than you did before, as if the climax had taken away your brain. he sticks two fingers in his mouth, sucking on them. he pops them out wet with a grin. ‘no one can taste you either. they’re missing out.’

you make a low growl. you reach for his cock under the table, hard and waiting for you, but he pushes you away. you pout. ‘at home,’ matty promises. his wet hand finds the back of your chair, resting on it as he leans back, satisfied.

#i’ve actually never watched the brits cus i’ve never watched any award show cus i don’t care about award shows so Hopefully it’s accurate #rockstar girlfriend #ask #smut #blurb #matty healy smut

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