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nickfowlerrr · 1 year

Text

by your side

part one / part two / part three / part four

pairing: lee bodecker x reader

warnings: 18+ only. main character injuries. reader pregnancy. morning sickness. angst. fluff. no smut. if i’m missing something important pls lmk.

words: 8.5k

notes: disclaimer: some things mentioned aren’t remotely accurate/possible to the era this takes place in (1960s) or like maybe ever even who knows really. i certainly do not. and though i tried to google more accurate info - i just wrote what worked for the story best lol so we’re all gonna suspend our disbelief and pretend it all makes sense. okay, cool, thanks. 😚 finally posting the last planned part to this little series. it’s poorly edited bc i’m very tired lol so sorry for errors in advance. and sorry it’s taken ages lol but i hope you’ve enjoyed it 🥰 headache was my first ever fic so this miniseries is really special to me. it’s where it all started. 🥹 thank you for reading and reblogging and as always, feedback and comments are appreciated. ❤️

It was chilly outside as you left your apartment, making sure you had everything with you as you walked briskly to your car. You were already late, so you were rushing to get to the station as soon as you could. Lee had been there earlier in the morning to pick you up for work, but when you were finishing getting ready, a sudden wave of nausea came over you and had you running to the bathroom with Lee following right behind. As you dry heaved over the toilet, nothing but bile coming up as your stomach had nothing else to give, Lee’s hand rubbed your back in an effort to comfort you.

He continued worrying over you even when you assured him you were fine.

“Lee, I promise, I’m okay. Probably just ate something bad, it’s nothing,” you said, shooing him off. “You’re gonna be late for work if you don’t go now. I’ll drive myself after I fix up a bit,”

“Darlin’-,” he went to argue, concern lacing his voice.

“Go,” you ordered. “I’ll be there before you know it.”

Leaning up on your tiptoes, you gave him a peck on the cheek. You moved to slip away and usher him out the door but he wrapped his arms around you before you could and squeezed you. You returned his hug as he looked down at you.

“You sure you’re okay, darlin’?”

“Promise, I’m okay.”

He sighed heavily before letting you go and opening the door. He turned and placed a kiss on your forehead.

“If you start feeling sick again, you call me, understand?”

“Yes, Sheriff, I understand,” you recited back to appease him. “I’ll be there before you know it,” you smiled as you urged him out.

“Why don’t I just stay until you’re done?” he tried to argue again. “No one's gonna say anything if I’m late, I’m the sheriff,”

“Lee,” you admonished, “Get outta here. You’re late enough as it is,”

“Fine,” he relented. “But if you’re not there within the hour I’m coming back over here,”

“Okay, deal,” you agreed. “I’ll see you soon.” He leaned down, brushing his lips against yours, kissing you softly.

“I love you,” he muttered against your lips.

“Love you, too,” you returned before you watched him walk to the cruiser as you leaned out the door.

“One hour!” he called out as he pulled open the driver’s side door, shooting an “I’m serious” look your way before he got in. You gave him a wave as you smiled while he finally drove off.

—--------------------------

Funnily enough, it’d been well over an hour since Lee had left and you were pretty surprised he hadn’t so much as called. You didn’t think anything of it, though. He was probably out on a call.

When you pulled into the station, your eyes scanned the rows of cars while you looked for a spot, Lee’s cruiser nowhere to be seen. You found an open spot and parked, hustling inside to get to your desk.

“There you are! I was starting to get worried. Lee said you were sick this morning but you’d be here soon. And then soon turned into an hour and then an hour into an hour and a half,” Beth worried. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, he was worrying over nothing, just a queasy stomach,” you assured her. “Speaking of Lee, is he out?”

“Yeah, he went on a call a little while ago. I think he left you a note on your desk, actually.”

You looked in the direction of Lee’s office, with a hint of a smile.

“If you need anything, hon, just let me know,”

“Thank you, Beth, I appreciate it, but really, I’m completely fine,” you waved off her worry with a sweet smile as you made your way to your desk.

Putting your bag down and pulling your chair out, you picked up the note Lee had left and read it as you took your seat.

Had to go out on a call, but I’ll be back before you know it.

Love you, sugar.

- Lee

You couldn’t help but smile at the note, setting it back down and sliding it to the top of your desk as you grabbed the stack of files that had accumulated while you were gone to start getting through the paperwork and filing.

—-----------------------------------------------------------------

It had been an hour and Lee still wasn’t back. You didn’t want to start worrying over nothing, but he always called when he knew he’d be longer than normal.. As you were anxiously waiting at your desk for something to happen - be it the phone ringing or Lee finally waltzing in to calm your racing mind and settle your worried thoughts, you noticed Beth going into the break room. Deciding you needed a distraction you got up and followed her.

“Hey,” you greeted as you took a seat at the table, watching Beth as she made herself a cup of tea.

“Hey, you alright, darlin’?” she asked, immediately concerned.

“Yeah,” you nodded, “yeah…So, how long do you think Lee’s been gone now?” you asked, trying to sound nonchalant as you sat one leg crossed over the other, your foot swaying anxiously as if it had a mind of its own - betraying your air of calm.

“Oh, uhm…I’m not sure. He’d left maybe thirty five minutes before you got here?”

Your brows raised ever so slightly as you realized it was coming up on two hours that he’d been gone with no word from him. There was a small pit in your stomach beginning to form, but you knew you needed to not freak out. Maybe he was just caught up in something. You were sure it wasn’t a big deal. It couldn’t be.You would’ve heard something by now..

“He hasn’t called or anything, has he?” you asked.

“No, why? Something wrong, hon?”

You shook your head, taking a breath. “No, I’m sure it’s fine.”

“You sure you’re okay, you look a little sick,” she said worriedly, making her way over to the table to take a seat.

“Oh, yeah. I’ve just been having these little bouts of sickness lately. Just out of nowhere, I don’t know why. I thought it might have been something I ate the other day but..I don’t know,”

“Bouts of sickness? Like, what? What do you mean?”

“I don’t know, just like, nausea and sometimes I actually get sick, like run to the toilet or find a trash can, sick. Maybe it’s stress? There’s not really any other symptoms of a bug or anything,”

“How long have you been feeling like that?”

“Just started this past weekend,”

“And you’re sure there’s nothing else goin’ on? No… sensitivity to smells? Or feeling more tired than normal, soreness anywhere?” she prompted.

You thought back on this past week and were worried all over, you had all of those symptoms.

“Now that I think about it, yeah, actually…” you said, suddenly getting lost in your thoughts as pieces moved into place. There was no way…

“I don’t mean to pry, really, but, have you and Lee been..ya know, intimate with one another?” she asked, voice hushed to make sure no one else heard despite you two being the only ones in the room.

Your face dropped as you gathered what she was getting at, why hadn’t you considered it a possibility earlier?

“You don’t think…” you trailed off, shaking your head at the absurdity. Although, it really wasn’t all that absurd. It was the most reasonable explanation you had heard all week.

“Sounds to me like you just might be pregnant, sweetie,” she said softly, a small smile playing on her lips, but not breaking out completely as she wanted to gauge your reaction to the suggestion before she showed her own.

You didn’t have a chance to respond as the phone at your desk began ringing. You shot up, heart racing.

“Oh, that must be Lee,” you said before you rushed to get it.

You had to take a breath before answering the phone, needing to compose yourself in case it was someone else calling to speak with him.

“Sheriff's office, how can I help you today?” you recited as smoothly as you could as Beth came up to the desk to make sure everything was okay.

“Hello, ma’am. This is Debbie Ann down here at the hospital,”

Hospital? You froze. A sinking feeling was suddenly heavy in your chest as you waited for her to continue, not so much as making a sound during the time you were waiting. It couldn’t have been longer than a few seconds, but each one felt like an eternity.

“We have Sheriff Bodecker down here. Looks like he was just brought in a bit ago. I’m told he has a gunshot wound…”

There was like a static, a buzzing in your ear as you dissociated for a split second while she spoke. You didn’t hear anything she said after ‘gunshot’. Staring off at nothing, your mouth parting just slightly.

“Ma’am? Hello, are you still there?” the woman on the other end asked as you came back to yourself.

“What?” you faltered out of breath.

“We’ve tried calling the old contacts we had on file, but no one answered. The only working number listed is the station,” she explained as you were reeling. You were trying to catch your breath, blinking wildly as you tried to get a grip, hands floundering on your desk for your keys.

“O- okay, I’ll uh - I’ll be right there, I’m coming right now. I’ll be there right away,” you rushed out, fighting the tightness in your throat as you spoke. You nearly slammed the receiver down as you grabbed your purse and coat, not thinking of anything other than getting to him as soon as possible.

“Wow, wow, wow,” Beth rushed to slow you down. “Sweetheart, what happened? Where are you goin’?”

You stopped as she grabbed your hand and turned to her, tears welling in your eyes.

“I have to get to the hospital,” you stammered.

“Why? What happened, what’s wrong?”

“Lee’s been shot,”

“Oh my god,” she gasped, her hand flying to her chest in shock. “Okay,” she agreed quickly. “We’ll go, but you’re not driving. I’m gonna get Sam, he’ll take us. It’s okay, it’s gonna be okay,” she assured you before rushing to get Sam from his desk.

They made their way to you quickly, Sam looking as concerned as his fiance.

“Peters,” he called, “radio Franklin and Sanderson, I’m pretty sure they’re the ones who called the Sheriff out earlier. See if you can get a hold of them. I’ll call from the hospital when I get there.”

Beth was already walking with you to their car, her hand holding yours was a comfort as she ushered you into the backseat, Sam trailing right behind you guys.

—-------------

“You okay?” Sam asked gently as he glanced at you from the rearview mirror. “I’m sure he’s fine,” he tried to ease your worries but his words did little to help.

The hospital wasn’t too far from the station, and Sam was speeding down the near empty road, getting you there in record time.

The second the car stopped moving, you rushed out and headed straight for the entrance without a thought; Beth and Sam right behind you.

You made a beeline for the reception desk as you entered, your sense of composure and any manners out the window..

“We’re looking for Sheriff Bodecker,” you nearly panted, voice shaking. You weren’t sure if you were out of breath from your brisk walking or from the anxiety that was strangling you.

“The Sheriff, yes. He’s being attended to right now. Are you his wife?” the older woman asked, looking at you clearly concerned by your panicked state.

You shook your head dumbly.

“Family?”

“He doesn’t-” your voice threatened to break as you spoke, shaking your head again as you felt the tears welling, “he doesn’t have any family,” you heard the edge in your voice, but you couldn’t help your response. The stress was taking over you and you were overwhelmed by everything that had happened in the last fifteen minutes. You didn’t mean to come off as frustrated as you did, but you were still irritated by the needless questions.

The woman looked at you sympathetically, nodding in understanding as you felt Beth beside you take your hand in hers reassuringly. Turning you to her, she grabbed you gently and led you to sit in one of the hard chairs of the waiting area while Sam took over the conversation with the woman at the desk.

“Just sit back, honey. We’ll figure this out, you just breathe, it’s gonna be okay,” she soothed, running her lithe hand up and down your back comfortingly. Sam turned and gestured for Beth to come over to the desk and she did just that. You watch them anxiously, looking for any sign that something was truly wrong, that the worst case scenario had happened, but they kept their backs to you as they spoke.

Not too long later, Beth came back over.

“He’s getting looked after right now. Can’t have any visitors until they finish doing what they need to do, but we can stay here and they’ll keep us updated. But he’s okay, sweetie, he’s alive and breathin’,” she breathed a smile as you nodded frantically, a bit of ease washing over you for a second before you found yourself beginning to cry unabashedly at the relief.

She hugged you tightly as you cried. “He’s okay, he’s gonna be okay,” she repeated softly.

You calmed down as you pulled away, wiping at your bleary eyes, grateful for the lack of other people in the waiting area - no further witnesses to your emotional display.

“He’s okay,” you echoed aloud, nodding, almost as if you were reassuring yourself of that fact while you wiped your tears, taking steadying breaths.

“I’m really sorry, ladies, I have to get back to the station, fill everyone in and see if Franklin or Sanderson has called in yet,”

“What- what happened, Sam? How did he get here?” you asked.

“I’m not too sure yet, but I promise I’m going to find out. She said two officers brought him in and he was unconscious. They told her to call the station and that they were goin’ back on pursuit. I’m hopin’ someone at the station’s heard from ‘em and we’ll figure it out,” he said confidently before turning his eyes fully on Beth, “You call me if you need me before I get back.”

“I will,” she nodded, getting up to give him a quick kiss before he left.

Your head was in your hands as you continued trying to collect yourself, taking deep breaths as you felt your stomach turning again - you knew what that feeling meant. You shot up and scurried right for the bathroom, getting into a stall just in time.

Beth followed you in after a moment, right as you were flushing the toilet before heading to the sink.

You could feel her looking you up and down, attempting to assess you discreetly.

“I’m fine,” you huffed as you looked at her in the mirror.

She bit her lip as she continued looking at you.

“Beth,” you rebuffed, turning to look at her standing beside you.

She looked around the bathroom, just making sure it was really empty before she spoke.

“I’m not trying to upset you anymore than you already are,” she broached carefully, “but maybe, you know, while we’re here you should get a test done. Just to find out, one way or the other,” she suggested, her support and care for you clear in her eyes.

You could feel your lips in a thoughtful pout as your eyebrows worried. “Do you..you think I really might be pregnant?” You knew the answer, but you asked anyway. Beth’s hand came up to rest on your shoulder reassuringly.

“Oh, sweetie,” she spoke softly.

“Oh, god,” you breathed, placing your hand over hers. “Okay,” you nodded. “Yeah, okay.”

You both walk out of the bathroom and go back to the desk to check in to be seen. It was desolate so you didn’t think it’d take long for you to get in. You filled out the standard paperwork and then waited for either your name or Lee’s to be called.

And just as you’d hoped, it wasn’t too long before your name was being called and a nurse took you to a small room not too far beyond the front desk.

The room you were led to smelled sterile, like a doctor’s office, and just like the rest of the building. Your palms were sweating and you felt queasy again.

Question after question was asked, what symptoms you were having, your last sexual encounter, your last cycle, etc., etc.. You don’t know what you were expecting but you just wanted to get the test done and go back out there to wait for any updates on Lee.

“Alright, we just need a urine sample from you and then the technician will get your test. Results won’t be ready for at least two hours,” the nurse recited with little emotion, as if she was speaking off a script.

All you could do was nod as she handed you the cup and riddled off the basic instructions for you to follow.

—---------

You left the room feeling unsure of everything. What would you do if the results came back positive? What would Lee say? What would everyone around town say? You’d be seen as the unwed harlot who got knocked up by the sheriff, your boss, you could hear the church goers gossip now.

You sat quietly by Beth as you continued waiting for any news after being reassured by her that nothing happened while you were being seen.

An hour passed as you and Beth mindlessly flipping through the magazines that had littered the entryway table along the wall.

“Why haven’t we heard anything yet?” you groused.

“Don’t worry yourself, hun,” Beth lightly admonished. “You’re gonna make yourself sick.”

You sighed, knowing she was right.

“I just wanna see him. Make sure he’s okay,”

“I know, believe me, I do. But they’ll let us know as soon as he’s ready for visitors. You know, we should probably get some food in you,” she pointed out.

“We can’t leave,” you responded, sounding frazzled, as if she was insane for even suggesting it.

“We won’t, we can just grab something in the cafeteria. I’ll tell ‘em where we’re going in case they call us,” she said, leaving no room for argument as she went to the desk to let the ladies know where you’d be.

You followed her to the cafeteria which was just as empty as the waiting area with the exception of the few staff who were scattered around the food hall eating their lunches and mid shift snacks.

Beth got food for the both of you as you sat at the table nearest the door, in case anyone came in looking for you.

You thanked her as she sat across from you, handing you a tray of food. You eyed the sandwich on the tray warily, not sure you were up to eating.

“I know you don’t have the results just yet, but in case you are,” her eyebrows raised as she eyed you knowingly, “you gotta at least try to get something down. You haven’t eaten all day, you need to.”

You looked at her, nodding, “I know, you’re right.”

You reached for her hand across the table and squeezed it meaningfully. “Thank you,” you said in a near whisper, “for everything. You’re a really great friend, Beth,” you smiled tightly with tears in your eyes.

“I’m always here for you, you know that,” she smiled back, returning the squeeze to your hand before you went to your lunches.

You munched a carrot, watching as Beth took a bite of her sandwich. You needed confirmation it was edible before you would try it.

She looked up to meet your eye, chuckling at your raised brow and skeptical look. “It’s not bad, I swear,” she said after swallowing her bite.

“If I get sick again, I’m blaming you,” you laughed lightly.

Just as you were going to grab the sandwich, your name being called had your head shooting up, meeting the eye of the same nurse you’d been seen by earlier. You swallowed hard, you knew what this had to be.

“Could you follow me, ma’am,” she prompted. You stood and looked to Beth, sharing a nod before following behind the woman.

You only found your voice once you were in the hallway, “You have my results?” you asked trepidatiously.

“Oh, no. They should be ready soon, though,” she said without looking back at you as she continued leading you down the hallway. She must have sensed your confusion as she stopped a few feet from a closed door.

“Sheriff Bodecker asked to see you,” she supplied as she gestured to the door behind her.

Your eyes widened, as you hurried past her to the door, why the hell didn’t she say that sooner?

“Be careful with him,” she bid as you took a second to open the door gently, trying to calm down from all the emotions swirling around inside you.

You pushed open the door and peaked in. The second you saw Lee’s bright blue eyes looking over, you felt your heart squeeze and you nearly ran to his bedside, eyes filled to the brim with tears on the brink of falling.

“Hi darlin’,” he said, a lopsided grin on his pretty lips as he immediately stretched his right arm out for you to hug him.

“I was so worried,” you blubbered as you held onto him, trying to be careful with him before you pulled away to look him over. His left bicep was bandaged and you looked back to his face, worry etched all over your own once again.

“What happened?”

He released a heavy sigh, taking your hand in his and urging you to sit on the bed with him. Your full attention was on him as he ran his thumb on your hand soothingly.

“Goddamn Gates,” he cursed. “Son of a bitch was drunk and beating on Judy again. Franklin and Sanderson couldn’t get him to open the door and called me down there, sayin’ Gates would only speak to me. I got there and he opened up, I went inside to talk to ‘em, make sure Judy was alright and he was rantin’ and ravin’ about how he hadn’t touched a drink all week, all the while reekin’ the stuff. Judy said she was done, had enough of him finally and wanted him out. Then, I don’t know where he got it from, but all of a sudden he was waving a gun around, yellin’ about how he wasn’t goin’ to jail.

I turned to tell Judy to go outside and the fucker shot me. Tried to hit me in my chest but he’s a shit shot even when he’s not drunk off his ass,” he turned to show you his left arm, “bullet went straight through, they said it didn’t hit anything, so it just needs to heal up and I’m fine.”

“God, Lee,” you exhaled, your distress clear in your voice.

“They said you were unconscious when you got here?” you brought up, needing to know the full story.

“I wasn’t unconscious,” he denied, lip twitching up at the corner. “I was pretty out of it, though,” he admitted.

“He’d shoved past me to the back door when he heard the front door open and I was too focused on my arm to stop myself from falling. Hit my head on the corner of their table pretty hard,” he grimaced. “Have a concussion, but-”

“Oh my god,” you interjected as you got closer to him, gently running your hand through his cropped hair.

“I’m fine,” he finished, taking your hand in his. The look in his eye as he stared at you had your heart skipping a beat. Gleaming with adoration and love. Not a bit of worry for himself, his full focus on you.

“If anything had happened to you,” you breathed, not even wanting to think about how much worse today could have gone, “I-”

You couldn’t even finish talking as he pulled you into him, holding you as best he could with just his right arm.

Pulling away after a moment, you looked in his eyes, hoping yours got across all the feelings you didn’t have the words to properly express before you leaned back into him and kissed him more tenderly than you ever had before.

“I love you, Lee Bodecker,” you whispered against his lips. “More than you’ll ever know.”

“Sweetheart,” he whispered in return. “I don’t think I ever really knew what love was before I met you.”

You smiled as your foreheads pressed together, noses touching lightly. Lee pulled back from you then and the glimmer in his eyes had you wanting to do nothing more than wrap him in your arms and lay with his head resting on your chest, the kind of peace, comfort, and love you’d always dreamed of, the kind you’d found with him, were the only feelings you wanted to focus on. He caressed your cheek gently before looking down and taking your hand in his once more.

There was something building in the air, an anticipation. You didn’t know where the feeling came from but it had you on the edge of your seat.

Looking back up from your hand in his, Lee’s eyes met yours.

“I wasn’t plannin’ on asking you like this, but if today’s reminded me of anything, it’s that life is short,” he said sincerely while you stared at him, eyes rounded as you forced yourself to take a deep breath. “Gates’ aim had been better, I might not be here with you right now. I might not have ever gotten the chance to tell you just how stupidly in love I am with you,” he smiled. “How your laugh is the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard. How lookin’ in your eyes makes me feel like there’s hundreds of butterflies flying around in my stomach, how you make me feel like I’m walking on air when you look at me. And how thankful I am to have met you, how lucky I am you let me love you, and have given me the honor of bein’ yours for as long as you have now,”

You could feel your eyes watering for what must have been the tenth time that day as you waited for him to ask what you thought he was going to, squeezing his hand encouraging him to go on.

“Darlin’, you’re my whole world. And I can’t go another minute without you knowing just how serious I am about you, just how much I want, need you in my life. And however long I’m here on this earth for, whether it’s another month or thirty years, I want it to be with you… I want it all with you, everything.

I want you to move in with me, I want you to take my name, and I want to start a family with you, I-...”

A family. You almost lost it when he said those words, but you held it together another second…Then you heard your name leaving his lips and the tears began to slide gently down your cheeks.

“Will you marry me?” he asked softly.

Your heart about burst at the question as your lip wobbled, holding his hand tighter than you had before, making sure this was really happening and you weren’t just dreaming it. As you opened your mouth to answer him, the door opened with no notice and startled you as you shot your head over to see who was interrupting the intimate moment. It was the same nurse from earlier, but this time she had a chart with her, holding the file in her arm.

“This can’t wait?” Lee asked gruffly.

“I’m sorry to interrupt Sheriff, but I’m not here for you,” she turned her gaze to you then, “We have your test results, hon.” Your eyes went wide and your stomach felt queasy all over again at the sudden reality, anxiousness coursing through you. The idea of a family with Lee wasn’t just a nice idea to look forward to in a few years. The possibility was very real right here and now. You knew it’d be okay, whatever the results were, but still. Why was there so much going on today, you could hardly keep up physically let alone emotionally.

“Test results?” Lee questioned, you could hear the worry in his voice and as you turned to look back at him, you saw the concern on his face as he looked between you and the nurse. “What test?”

“Just,” you took his face in your hands gently, “just one second,” you assured him without answering his question, kissing him softly before following the nurse to just outside the door.

“Well, I’ll get right to it, it looks like what we suspected. Test came back positive, you’re pregnant,” she said, offering you a smile.

You knew that was coming, you knew it. But it still hit you like a ton of bricks. You felt like you were in shock, but you weren’t really shocked at all. You smiled back, before nodding.

“Oh,” you exhaled with a breathy laugh, “okay. Thank you,” you said as she walked back down the hall, leaving you to digest the news. You stood there for a moment until Lee calling your name prompted you to go back in the room, worried he’d get up and come check on you if you didn’t.

“Sweetheart, what’s wrong?” he asked gently as he pulled you back to near his bedside the second you got close enough to touch.

You worried your lip before meeting his eye. That look was there again, it always was. His bright blue eyes shining with nothing but concern for you. Filled with his need to comfort you, protect you, love you. You couldn’t help your eyes watering or the smile that broke out across your face as you admired him, taking a breath before you spoke.

“How would you feel…” you started, trying to not let your tears overtake you just yet, “about starting that family a little sooner rather than later?” you questioned shyly, eyes set on your hand in his while trying to hold the tears back a little longer.

“What are you talkin’ about, sugar?”

You looked up, meeting his eye and taking a deeper, more grounding breath before speaking again.

“I’m pregnant,” you announced, exhaling shakily. His eyes widened after a second while he took in what you’d just said,

“You’re pregnant?” he repeated, the corner of his lips quirking up. You nodded in response. He breathed a laugh in disbelief and you swore the smile that shone on his face was the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen.

You laughed in return, a relief and calm washing over you as you let your tears fall and watched as Lee’s own eyes watered at the news. He grabbed you, trying to pull you onto the bed with him. “You’re pregnant!” he beamed.

“Lee!” you laughed, “Be careful, you’re still hurt,” you objected.

“I’ve never been better in my life, darlin’,” he grinned, tugging you still.

You relented and gingerly laid down next to him, his right arm wrapping around your waist, palm resting carefully on your belly while you nuzzled into him. Turning your face up to look at him, Lee was already staring at you. You leaned up to meet his lips, indulging in a sweet kiss that was full of your love for one another, growing deeper the longer you held the kiss before you parted.

“You haven’t answered my question, sweetheart,” he simpered, eyeing you adoringly.

“Right,” you agreed, the proposal he’d just finished before the nurse walked in fresh in your mind. “What was it that you asked me again?” you feigned innocence, both of you smiling knowingly. There were stars in your eyes as you looked at him, elation filling you as he gazed back with a look akin to your own.

“I’ve never been happier than when I’m with you, there’s nothing I want more than to marry you and start this family with you,” he said, rubbing your tummy as he spoke. “Will you marry me?”

You nodded, smiling up at him. “Yes,” you breathed a laugh. “Of course I will, I’ll marry you.”

Reaching up to kiss him again, you held his cheek in your hand.

“You’re gonna be my husband,” you grinned.

Lee laughed and kissed you once more. “Damn right, I am.”

“Okay, as much as I wanna lay with you, one of us is gonna end up falling off this bed,” you joked, moving to sit up. He let you sit up without an argument, only sighing in disappointment at the loss of you laying next to him. He took your left hand in his as he held it, his touch featherlight as his thumb rubbed along your ring finger.

“We’ll go down to the jeweler’s tomorrow,” he told you. “Gonna get you a ring, whichever one you want,” he smiled at you. You gave a tight lipped smile in return as you suddenly began worrying about what people would say. He knew the second you started to worry, gripping your hand more firmly, but his hold was still gentle, just enough to get your head back to the present. You looked at him, taking a breath.

“What are people gonna say? When they find out I’m pregnant before we’ve gotten married?” you asked, letting him know what you were worrying about.

“Sweetheart, it doesn’t matter what they think or what they have to say. You don’t need to worry about a thing. It ain’t nobody's business anyway,”

“Might not be their business but that isn’t gonna stop them from talking. I remember all those awful things they said about Susan not two years ago. Nearly ran her right out of town, all the whispers and judgy looks she’d get whenever she went anywhere without Bill,” you said, shaking your head at the memory. Those church women were especially cruel to her. You didn’t want to be the next talk of the town. You and Lee both were already on thin ice with the lot of them for your so called “work affair”.

“Darlin’, if anyone has anything bad to say about you, they’ll be dealin’ with me. No one’s gonna make my girl - my wife, the mother of my child, feel bad for any reason. I’ll make damn sure of it,” he promised you.

You rolled your eyes playfully at his instance no one would talk about you, but his words were comforting nonetheless. He was right, it didn’t matter what anyone else thought. You were happy and in love and you wouldn’t change a single thing, pregnant out of wedlock or not. And the way you lit up hearing him call you his wife, and the mother of his child had you giddy all over.

“Only reason those ladies would talk about you is because they’re jealous anyway,” he added, making you laugh again. “I mean it, sugar. You’ll be the talk of the town for all the right reasons. You’re already like a damn starlet walking around gracing all of us small town folk with your beauty,” he smiled, kissing your cheek as you rolled your eyes again at his ridiculous compliments. Ridiculous to you, at least. Because Lee meant every word he said.

“You’re gonna make the most beautiful bride and the prettiest mama this town has ever seen. I can’t wait to watch you get heavy with our baby. Can’t wait to watch you walk down the aisle, straight to me,” he simpered. You smiled demurely. Kissing him softly once more.

“We’ve got a lot of plannin’ to do,” Lee pointed out.

“You’ve got a lot of healin’ to do, Sheriff. We’ll figure everything else out in due time,”

Lee smirked, eyeing you like he wanted to argue that he was fine, but decided against it.

“Well, the doc said I could go home soon, and seein’ as I’ll be taking tomorrow off, we’ll have plenty of time to get your ring at least.”

“Lee,”

“Don’t try and argue, sweetheart. I want everyone to see a ring on your finger as soon as possible, let ‘em all know you’re mine, no question about it.”

“As if you haven’t made that obvious already,” you said, raising a brow at him.

“Reminders never hurt. Besides, a girl like you deserves to have a diamond on that finger. Show it off to all those Betties who like to gossip, give ‘em something to talk about,” he smiled.

“Give it another month, they’ll have plenty to talk about, I’m sure,” you said with a dry laugh, looking down at your stomach.

Lee considered you for a moment before talking.

“Move in with me,” he said.

You looked at him quizzically.

“Well, duh,” you smiled.

“This weekend. I’ll hire movers, we’ll get you settled by Sunday,” he said, almost begging, wanting to get ahead of the refusal he was sure you’d have at trying to move so soon knowing he was still healing.

Your eyes softened as you looked at him, “Okay,” you agreed, earning a grin from him in return as he nodded and visibly relaxed.

“The guest room is already clean, it’ll be easy enough to turn it into a nursery,” he added. You smiled at his happiness, the emotion evident on his face. And your heart soared at the way he was so ready for this, as if he’d been waiting for everything to fall into place, waiting for this to start with you. He was already planning everything out in his head, you could practically see the wheels working as he thought.

“You’re gonna be an amazing dad, you know that?” you breathed.

He smiled softly at you, looking like his mind was far off for just a second before he came back to himself. “You’re gonna be an amazing mom,” he responded. “We’re gonna do this together, we’re gonna do our best, do everything we can for this little one,”

“And for each other,” you added, wanting to remind him you’d always be there for him, too. You were a family now, undeniably. It was like everything had changed in your lives in a matter of hours, but the one thing that would stay the same was your love for one another. Trials and unforeseen changes, be they good or bad, only solidified that knowing you had deep down. You were it for each other. And your love only grew stronger with each day.

He nodded, still smiling as he gently let go of your hand, moving to rest his palm on your belly again, you put your hand over his and when you looked at him again, his eyes were shining as tears filled his eyes.

“Seems crazy to say, considerin’ I was shot and concussed and all, but I think this is the best damn day of my life,” he laughed breathily as a few tears fell. You were quick to wipe them from his cheeks as you took his face in your hands delicately, laughing softly in turn, your thumb gently brushing his cheek as you leaned your head to his.

“Whole lot to process,” you mused. “But you’re here. And you’re okay. And we’re having a baby,” you repeated, your smile growing wider.

“And you’re gonna make me your wife,” you nearly whispered as your lips brushed his. “I could see how it’s one of the best when you look at it like that.”

Lee simpered as he leaned into you before closing the distance between your lips and kissing you tenderly.

“But you have to promise me something, Lee,” you urged, making sure he was looking in your eyes, wanting him to see how serious you were. “Your main focus right now is on healing. I don’t want you rushing anything, alright? I just need you to get better, I need you to be okay. And I know you’re gonna say you’re fine, but I mean it, Lee,”

“I promise,” he swore, his hand holding yours, keeping your touch to his cheek before he pulled it to his lips, kissing your knuckles softly. “You have my word.”

You schooled your face, not wanting to let on your surprise at his lack of pushback. “Good,” you said satisfied, pulling your hands back to rest in between your bodies, but not letting go of each other.

“Now, you have to promise me something,” he said.

You eyed him, waiting for him to continue.

“You have to promise you won’t get mad.”

“Why would I get mad?” You asked. He took a beat before speaking matter of factly.

“You’re fired.” You blinked at him, confused for just a second before his words registered.

“Excuse me?” you said incredulously.

“You’re carrying my baby in there, no way I’m gonna have you working. No need for it,” he answered as if it was obvious.

“No need for it?” you scoffed. “I’ll tell you one thing for sure, Mr. Bodecker. You’d be completely lost without me. In fact, this is a perfect example of why you need me at the station. Had I been there when they tried to call you in, I would’ve told those two bozos to figure it out themselves. Too damn lazy to do their job is what it was. You never should’ve been down there to begin with. They’re officers, for Christ’s sake! They could’ve easily gotten him to open up, they just didn’t want to deal with it. And where were they when you were inside, huh? Not talking to Judy, were they. Probably guzzling their coffee, leaning along their cruiser while they talked about baseball or whatever the hell else it is they talk about, meanwhile you’re getting shot at by some wife beatin’ drunk all because they can’t be bothered to do their damn jobs. Left you all alone in there with no one to watch your back, that’s reckless and dangerous and they’re so damned lucky you’re alright, because I swear, had anything worse happened to you, Lee -,” you ranted, not realizing how truly angry you had been beneath the fear and worry you felt for Lee.

“Alright, alright, I hear you, darlin’. Take it easy,” he said, trying to calm you while hiding the look of amusement and pride threatening to break across his face at your impromptu lecture and ranting.

You took a deep breath, shaking your head. “And I know for a fact your files would be an unorganized mess and your paperwork would always be half done without me there to assist you,” you huffed.

“You’re not firing me, Lee,” you said, defiant and definitively. “If anyone is gettin’ fired today, it should be those two idiots, not me.”

Lee considered you for a second, biting on his tongue in thought before he huffed out a laugh through his nose. “I’ll make you a deal, then. I’ll give you five months workin’ your normal days but as soon as your last trimester hits, I don’t want you so much as lifting a finger in that station,” he said, giving you a look that left little room for argument.

You narrowed your eyes at him as you considered it. Five months is a lot of time to make things work in your favor…

“Fine,” you agreed, making your dissatisfaction clear in your tone.

“Don’t give me that look, sugar, you’re gonna kill me with those eyes,” he bemoaned. “I’m already hurt as it is, darlin’,” he gave you his best puppy eyes as he took your hand in his again.

“Well speakin’ of not lifting a finger at the station,” you repeated his sentiment, “You’re gonna be taking a lot longer than just one day off, Sheriff.”

“That so?”

“That is so. And don’t think for one second that you’ll be out patrolling until your arm is completely healed,” you said firmly.

“I think you think it’s a lot worse than it is, sweetheart. I’ll be good as new by next week,” he assured you.

You looked down at his hand in yours and squeezed it, more as a comfort to yourself than anything. “A week, then,” you said, a soft plea disguised under your tone of faux authority. “The whole week. You’re gonna be home, you’re not going on a single call.”

“Hey,” he called, bringing your attention to him, “I’m alright,” he insisted while his eyes were intent on you.

You took a second, looking in his eyes for reassurance and then nodded. “Okay,” you breathed, looking away, feeling that familiar tingling in your nose as you blinked back a fresh wave of tears.

“No more tears, darlin’. Look at me,” he ordered gently. “You’re okay.”

“‘M not worried about me,” you muttered as you met his eye again.

“I know I can’t keep you from worrying’ about me, but darlin’, you really don’t need to.”

“You know how ridiculous it is to hear you say that as you’re layin’ in a hospital bed?” you snapped before your voice quavered as it rose, “You could’ve died, Lee!

And you’re tellin me I don’t need to worry about you?” you scoffed, you looked at him incredulously before you really saw him, laying there hurt and vulnerable whether he wanted to admit it or not, and you softened instantly. It wasn’t him you were so upset at. “You’re the love of my life, Lee,” your voice shook despite you trying to reign in the emotion. “I’m always gonna be worried about you, even if you aren’t worried about yourself. Which, you know, now, you have to. You have to worry because I’m not gonna be raising a little baby Bodecker all on my own,” you tried to ease up as you sniffled, wiping at your eyes.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he sighed, regret in his eyes. “I think we just need to go home and relax together. Focus on all the good we got out of today instead of the bad. All this stress can’t be good for the baby, neither.”

You rubbed at your face, growing tired from the whirlwind you’d been through today.

“No,” you shook your head with a sigh of your own, “I’m sorry.” Your hand was on his thigh, your thumb absentmindedly soothing across it as you breathed. “I didn’t mean to get upset - I’m not upset. Not with you, anyway. I just - I’m sorry,” you breathed, not knowing how to properly put into words what you were thinking or feeling, only frustrating yourself further.

“None of that,” he chided as he sat further up and moved to sit on the edge of the bed with you.

“Lee, don’t do that!”

“They didn’t say I couldn’t move,” he argued. “In fact, they said someone’d be in here soon to show me how to dress the wound while it heals and then I can go home. Hand me my pants, sugar?”

You eyed him unbelieving but stood and grabbed his pants anyway, bringing them over for him. He moved his left arm gingerly as he tried to pull them further up his legs once he had his feet through so you took hold of them and helped slide them up for him. You zipped the zipper and buttoned them closed. “Want your belt on, too?”

“No. Thank you, darlin’.” He took the gown he was still wearing off and sat shirtless as he looked to you.

“‘Course,” you said as you took his face in your hands, standing before him. You watched as he let himself revel in the warmth of your touch, sighing heavily as he closed his tired eyes and leaned into your palm.

“Maybe a week off will do me some good,” he mused. “Plus if I’m not there, no reason for you to be, either.”

“Who’s gonna make sure your paperwork gets finished if I’m not there? Or redirect your calls?” you asked as you moved your hands from his face, running your fingers soothingly through his short, dark brown hair instead.

“That’s what the front desk ladies are for. You could use the time off, too. We’ll have our own little vacation,” he sweet talked as he stared up at you like you were his whole world.

“A whole week…” you pondered aloud. “We should use that time well,” you suggested.

“What do you have in mind?”

You shrugged your shoulders as you bit your lip. “I don’t know... What do you think about eloping?”

Lee’s eyes widened as he looked at you confused and almost shocked.

“You want a shotgun wedding?” he asked.

“You don’t have to call it that,” you said, embarrassed. Taking a breath as your hands fell gently to his shoulders. “You want to run for reelection, don’t you?”

Lee nodded in response, and you could see the dots connecting as he did with a sigh of his own.

“You and I both know how important the church vote is for you. Doubt they’ll be all too happy with their chosen sheriff moving his pregnant girlfriend into his home before they’re married.” Lee rolled his eyes but knew you were right.

“Just doesn’t seem fair to you,” he said.

“I think I prefer it,” you replied with a small smile. “Less stress around planning,” you offered.

“If that’s what you want, babydoll, that’s what we’ll do. As long as you’re happy. And as long as I get to call you my wife once it’s all said and done,” he smirked as he pulled you closer to him with his right arm around your waist, “I’m happy, too. And if it helps my approval ratings, well that’s just the cherry on top of the sundae.”

You laughed as you bent to place a kiss to his forehead which he gratefully accepted before he rested his head against your tummy, placing a kiss of his own to your stomach as his hand rubbed your lower back.

“I can’t wait to live the rest of my life with you. Grow this little family of ours,” he smiled affectedly. “Wouldn’t want any of this with anyone else. Only you. The good and the bad, I’ll take all of it as long as I know I’ll have you by my side.”

“You’ll always have me by your side,” you promised as you looked down at him, your adoration, devotion, and love to him and your future family together gleaming brightly in your eyes. “Always.”

#lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker #lee bodecker x you #lee bodecker x plus size!reader #lee bodecker x curvy!reader #lee bodecker x chubby!reader #lee bodecker x female reader #lee bodecker fic #lee bodecker x y/n #lee bodecker angst #lee bodecker fluff #sheriff bodecker #sheriff lee bodecker x reader #lee bodecker fanfiction

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dynamic-power · 4 months

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Evie @energievie tagged me in an end of year writer interview! This is such a cool idea.

-----

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

15! I plan to increase that by a lot next year!

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

Just shy of 62k.

3. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

Since Prom - Steddie, E

An Offer - Kanej, T

back to the past - Steddie, T WIP

Coach H - Steddie, T

Kinktober Drabbles - various, E WIP (it's finished on tumbr. I just need to move the last few to AO3 lmao)

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

Ngl, I struggle with this. I want to. I see and cherish every single one! But I forget to reply, or I don't know what to say, or I don't check for comments for a month and when I finally see them, I feel like it's too late. 😅

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

That would be A Coat Or A Blanket. Angst is not my forte. I want happy endings for everyone.

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

Probably Since Prom? Or Arrivals. Just because there's an actual plot and a real ending lol.

7. Do you write crossovers?

Not yet. But maybe in the future? 🤷

8. Have you ever received hate on a fic?

Yes lol. It was on a kinktober fic. Ao3 rule number 1: don't like, don't read. Apparently they didn't get the memo. 🤣

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

Most of my fics are kinktober! So kinky, gay sex. 😏 That'll change next year. I mean that I plan to write a lot of non-kinktober stuff, not that I won't be writing kikny, gay sex.

10. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

I don't think so 👀

11. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Nope, but I wouldn't be opposed

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

Nope, but I wouldn't be opposed. Seriously, if you ever want to collab, lmk! 😄

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

Currently, it's Gallavich. But my favorite of all time is Drarry.

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

It's one I haven't even started posting yet. It's a Gallavich soul mate AU where the pair have special gifts centered around eye contact. Mickey can see soul mates and Ian severs soul mate connections. I'm absolutely in love with it but I'm also kinda struggling to get through it. 😭😭😭

15. What are your writing strengths?

Word limits. I love the challenge of trying to portray certain emotions or situations in a limited amount of time, and I feel like I'm really good at it. I don't have to get caught up in details, I can just make my readers feel in just a few sentences.

16. What are your writing weaknesses?

Pacing lol. I don't have patience, I always end up rushing my ending.

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

2 situations. If the POV character doesn't speak the language, I try to limit it to things that can be easily assumed without need for translation. Expletives, nicknames, or recognizable phrases. Unless, of course, the POV character is meant to not understand what is being said. And 2, if the POV character speaks the language, I'll usually have them translate in their thoughts. I just want the reader to be on the same level of understanding as the POV character.

18. What was the first fandom you wrote for?

Harry Potter. That was way back in the day. I posted my first fic in 2010. 🤣 On my current account, it was Six of Crows.

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

Hooo boy. Doctor Who comes to mind. I'm obsessed with the idea of Fourteen and Jack Harkness meeting again. I've always wanted to do something for Criminal Minds. I'll probably dip my toe into Supernatural, too. I've done drabbles for Mungrove, Harringrove, and Harringroveson, but i'd also like to do full fics for them. Idk, I've always got too many ideas.

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

Either Since Prom or Coming Soon To Home Video. I can't pick.

If you write fanfiction, you should totally do this! Consider this me, tagging you.

Our just giving you cake. 🍰

#ask dyno #tag games

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fluffypotatey · 9 months

Note

u want to answer the first half???? 🥹🥹

sure! anything for you, boo <33333 sorry it took me this long :’(

oh Lordy, ok

Share a song that makes you think of [fic title]

ok so even tho you didn’t place a specific title imma pick Frayed Strings and A Meeting at the Beach for the song People You Know by Selena Gomez bc i enjoy me some bitter and Six Eared “has not moved on” Macaque 🤭

2. Do you read/reread your own fics?

yeah! but it’s mostly after someone makes a comment on something they liked bc i, too, want to find that scene or line and enjoy it 🥰

3. What’s your favorite fic that you’ve written?

it’s honestly a tie between The Shrine of Emrys and A Meeting at the Beach which is funny bc they are so different from each other lmao

4. How many WIPs do you have right now?

oh, uh, *checks folder* give me a sec

*coughs* 43 👉👈

5. What’s a fic idea you’ve had that you will never write?

can find answer here it’s literally just all of my stranger things ufos lmao

6. Are there any fics from others you reread all the time?

oh yeah, all the time. too many really to list them all 😓 but there’s Bones by @theoceanismyinkwell and you shake my nerves and you rattle my brain by @yikeshereiam just to name a couple (very good btw highly recommend)

7. How many ideas for fics do you have right now?

i’d rather not say

8. What project(s) are you currently working on?

rn it’s my swk & reaper series, frayed, and my dr geyer fic. all of which are long term fics lmao

9. Do you write every day? If you wrote today, share a sentence of what you’ve written!

it’s like every other day? i try to write often to keep me from writer’s block and it’s nice switching from wip to wip when i feel overwhelmed by the other

and i did write today! so have a snippet:

Frank O’Brien, in the words of his mother in-law, was a man you could never really figure out without walking on eggshells. In the words of his sister, he was a man that took after their uncle. In the words of Jenna, he was a cautious soul.

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than you were expecting?

tbh the frayed AU wasn’t one i thought many people might have liked since i write macaron being very bitchy and salty about a lot of things and i know he’s a beloved character in the lmk fandom. like, i’m not writing him that way bc i hate him (far from it). I write like that bc that’s what i imagine what his internal dialogue might be like.

11. Do you have specific playlists for writing fics?

not really, i just find one that fits the mood of the scene or my own mood

12. Do you have a playlist for your current WIP(s)? Share it!

lol no 😙 I’m not really one to create wip or character playlists but it’s a lot of fun listening to others!

13. How much planning do you do before writing?

it honestly depends. no planning was done when making the dr geyer fic or any of the merlin fics. the planning came after bc my ambitions for them were more than i expected

14. If you could see one of your fics adapted into a visual medium, such as comic or film, which fan fic would you pick?

oh gee, idk honestly. it would be cool to see a comic of the Shrine of Emrys just because the exaggerated expressions would be hilarious

15. How do you come up with titles for your fics/chapters?

long answer can be found here. short answer: it is a chaotic process that ends in prayer

but yeah there you go! i’m so sorry this was late babe 💖 had this saved in my drafts so I could answer it all and then it got buried in there 😖 BUT! hope you enjoyed my answers 💕💕💕💕

#ask game #fic writer ask game #writing #asks #thiamsxbitch #long post #sorry for the late reply 🙈🙈🙈#my wips #my fics

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woodsy-hoe · 3 years

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getting back into painting is the only reason i haven’t gone ballistic during quarantine 🎨

edit:

added more details today ✨

#what’s something cool you’ve done lately? lmk #nature painting #mine #nature #acrylic painting #painting #aspens #irises #meadow #becca speaks

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capricorn-stark · 3 years

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Late Night Drives w the Batboys

warning: none

a/n: just trying headcanons lol, lmk me what you think. also, tysm once again for 100 follows you guys!!!

Dick Grayson

The drives probably happen after a date or after he picks you up from work/uni on a Friday night

First thing he does every time is turning on the radio

He’s down for whatever you like listening to, but if you’re good with anything it’s probably just pop hits

You’ll probably hear him humming some of the tunes under his breath or tapping his fingers against the wheel to match the beat

He loves talking and making conversations with you while driving

Will tell you about all sorts of crazy shit going on in his life, whether it’s about his day job or what happens during patrols

Loves listening to your stories and about the random issues going on in your life, gives great advice (when it’s not him making the decisions) and is just generally wonderful to talk to

He feels like the type of guy to take your hand while he’s driving or when you’re just sitting at a red light or stuck in traffic

You’re either going to drive around for the sake of driving around, or he’ll take you to one of Bludhaven’s docks or some hillside, some place with a nice view

Sitting on the hood of his car and just talking while he holds your hand, wraps his arms around your waist, brushes your hair out of your face

Just little things that make you know he’s paying attention and makes you feel like he really loves you, which he does

Jason Todd

If you’re in a car, he would be blasting music and it would probably be both of you screaming out the lyrics to the song that’s on

I feel like there would be a time where one of you doesn’t know the lyrics and tries to discreetly look them up without the other person realizing it

The other person totally figures that out and you never let them live it down

Probably the handsier type, one hand on the wheel while he drives, other hand resting on your thigh

Acts like he doesn’t know the effect he has on you

But he definitely does, considering how long you’ve been together

I also feel like he’d probably take you for trips on his bike instead of a car, though, so if you’re taking his bike:

He likes having your arms wrapped around him while he drives, he likes feeling you relax and resting your head against his shoulder

He loves driving, so he might just take you down long mostly-empty roads and just fly through the night

Depending on his mood and yours you could be talking about anything from his dark traumatic past to discussing how great the new chilidog place is downtown

With Jason you can literally never tell

Will probably pull over at some point to chill on his bike, talk, or kiss

He’s bad at telling you he loves you so times like these are his way of letting you know that

Driving is his way to escape, and he loves having you there with him to feel like you and him are the only things that matter for a little while

Tim Drake

You’re probably the one dragging him out of the house or his office just to get him to stop working for an hour or so

He’ll definitely protest saying he has “so much work to do” and how he’s “so close to being done”, but you both know he secretly loves taking a break just to drive with you

It’s mostly just you guys talking about absolutely anything and everything, from his life at WE to philosophical debates about stupid shit

And I mean just random, stupid shit

“If you drop soap on the floor, is the floor clean or is the soap dirty?"

“If I try to fail, but succeed, which one did I do?"

“...Tim, is this a personal question? Because I feel like you’re talking about something you personally went through right now-”

He gets really into these kind of conversations

You’ll probably stop by a drive-through to grab something to eat while chilling in your car

He’ll let you steal his fries

Unless he was talking about how his day was going and brings up the office, he won’t even mention work

He’s definitely way more interested in you and what you have to say, he loves hearing about your problems and trying to think of ways to help you get around them

These would be some of the few times he really gets to forget about everything else and focus on just you, and he loves it

Damian Wayne (aged up)

Honey, he steals the Batmobile

Like actually, he’s done it before in the comics to impress chicks and you can bet he’d do it again

If he acts this way as a literal twelve year old imagine what he’s gonna do when he’s older

You’d have a fine time perusing around in it, clicking all the weird buttons it has just to “test out” the different functions

You may or may not have accidentally activated the flamethrowers Bruce had installed for unknown reasons

And that may or may not have ended up getting you guys caught after some poor GCPD officer on a late shift saw the Batmobile zooming down the street with a whole column of fire shooting out of it, but it ended up being okay because Damian acted like he didn’t know what his father was talking about when he was confronted with it

Otherwise, you’d probably end up on a late night drive after you and Damian decide to ditch a gala or some random fancy party

“It was far too stuffy to stay in that place, Father will understand our absence.”

“Damian, you were hosting the event.”

He lets you do most of the talking during the drive because he likes listening to you and the sound of your voice

He’ll still act all cool, but he’ll be smiling and letting out the occasional laugh at your stories here and there, adding on his own snarky comments or stories every once in a while

Instead of going home, he’ll probably want to take you somewhere to grab dinner or just to head to a nice part of Gotham to get a moment between yourselves and enjoy a pretty view

He feels like the type of guy who would really be into grand gestures and giving you the best of the best for literally everything

So your late night drives are little moments where he’s dialing all that back just to get some time alone with you, listen to you, and get to know you better

And as much as he’ll deny it to everyone else, he’d love those moments the most

______________________________________________________________

Taglist: @cipheress-to-k-pop

#pandemonium scrawl #dick grayson #jason todd #tim drake #damian wayne #batboys #batfam #batboys headcanons #batboys imagine #dc #dc comics #dick grayson x reader #jason todd x reader #tim drake x reader #damian wayne x reader #fluff

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selfcarecap · 3 years

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I’ll Show You [m.j]

pairing: MJ x reader, MJ x Peter Parker, Peter Parker x reader? (barely)

summary: When your best friend MJ reveals quite a significant detail about her relationship with her boyfriend, you decide to take matters into your own hands… (literally)

warnings: smut, cheating but only kind of (this is fanfiction and does not necessarily represent my irl views lmaoshsksjshh💀) sarcastic reader (towards Peter) idk, weed, mentions of underage drinking (under 21 but they’re at least 18), brief arguing lol

word count: 2.9k

-this is a repost of an old fic-

gifs not mine (does two gifs look ugly? lmk yskshs)

Music thrums softly against the door as your head falls onto MJ’s shoulder, giggling amongst yourselves while all the other people at the party are getting loud. You’re just high. Much better.

Even Peter and Ned are part of the people with red cups in their hands, although they’re not as extreme as most other guys at college. It’s still illegal for them to drink and they’ve told you about how that makes them feel bad.

You, too, only drink rarely but there was that one time Peter accidentally took a sip of your rum and coca cola and it’s been his favourite drink ever since. But with that Spider-Man metabolism he’s sober after about twenty minutes before he drinks again and feels different for a few minutes only to have to drink again.

They’re all dizzy and dancing, all over the place. You and your best friend MJ prefer the laid back act of smoking weed.

The four of you, MJ with her boyfriend Peter, Ned, and you only go to parties every so often and only when all four of you are in the mood. Today is one of those nights. Even if the two pairs of you have completely different definitions of partying and having fun. And that’s okay.

You and MJ talk about the most pointless things in the safety of some guy named Chad’s bedroom - at least that’s what the sign on the door says, no one has complained about you two being here.

“How often do you and Peter have sex?”

You just put the question out there, not meaning to make MJ shift as uncomfortably as she suddenly does.

“You don’t have to answer, I was just thinking - how amazing would an orgasm be while high?” You spread your fingers in the air, holding your hand up high just to emphasise how amazing you think it would feel.

“I wouldn’t know.” She smiles from beside you on the bed.

“Huh? Oh, you mean an orgasm while high? Me neither.”

“No I mean um.. an orgasm.”

“You what?” You purse your lips and look at her incredulously, “So you mean Peter-”

“Wouldn’t be of use in that department.” She finishes your sentence.

You’re a mixture of confused, amused, shocked... sad?

Her and Peter have been together for what? Two years and he‘s never made her orgasm? Peter seems like the first person to want to make his girlfriend feel good, you know he never did anything before being with MJ but you were sure he seemed like the type who is eager to learn…

“So it’s just him? I mean you’ve still got your own hands though, right?” Your hand slides down your belly, under your jeans and MJ playfully slaps your arm with a laugh.

“Noo! I don’t do that, I’ve got Peter!”

“Yeah, well, he’s not really doing the job, is he?” Your hand comes to rest against your cheek, holding you up as you lie down next to MJ, facing her with a curious look as she bites her lip.

“You know there’s nothing wrong with masturbating especially if your boyfriend isn’t competent enough.”

“I know but sex with him still feels very good, who knows maybe I’ve had an orgasm before.” She shrugs.

“If you’ve had an orgasm you would know for sure - it’s amazing. So what’s up with Peter? Does he know or do you fake it?” She shrugs again, still seeming too happy and indifferent for someone who’s aware that they’ve never had the pleasure of experiencing an orgasm.

She remembers how they had their first few times.

After it stopped hurting for her, Peter would always ask if she came and when she said no he would feel bad, attempting and failing to make her come. So eventually MJ just faked it because he was too adorably frustrated that he couldn’t bring her the pleasure she deserved.

And so it just continued. And after months and months it would have been too awkward to tell the truth all of a sudden, also because MJ never had any valid reason to lie and it‘s not like Peter‘s an asshole who doesn‘t care.

“I love him and I know that he loves me and like I said it does feel good. It’s enough for me, really, I’m not some kind of sex-crazed person, you know?”

“Neither am I and I still masturbate but okay… But what about equality, MJ? Thought you’d be the first to demand an orgasm if that’s what you give him?” You smile and with that you’ve got her. She doesn’t add to the topic any further and you go back to your previous conversations.

Though after a while MJ notices how you’re being all pouty and rather low-spirited. You’re usually all giggly and happy when you two get high.

“You okay? Is this the usual stuff?” MJ nudges your leg with hers.

“Yeah, yeah. Just kind of sad that you’ve never had an orgasm. Also a little mad at Peter.”

What she says next surprises you;

“I mean it’s never too late to start… But part of the problem is that I don’t even know what to tell him. I’ve never done anything myself and have no idea what feels good enough to.. you know.”

You don’t hesitate before saying it: “I could help you.”

MJ is silent for a few seconds. “No that.. that wouldn’t be right without Peter.”

“But would you want me to?”

She nods shyly and bites her lip as you scoot closer to her.

“I’m sure Peter won’t mind. You know with the relationship between you and me, the history and everything.”

(Mj has no clue what you’re talking about - she’s known Peter longer than she’s known you but she’ll take it.)

“I’ll go ask him, okay?” You hold your finger up signalling MJ to wait here and you’re out of the room before she can interject.

MJ thinks of following you but even though she’s a little worried how this whole situation will seem in front of Peter, MJ wants it, and she trusts her best friend and waits for you on the bed.

You find Peter downstairs after about five minutes, him and Ned and some other college guys you don’t know are having a Just Dance competition, a red cup in his hands but he seems very reliable and aware, sober enough for you to ask and get a proper answer.

“Uh hey Peter,” He turns around, greeting you with a smile, “You mind if I show your girl some fun?”

“You two smoking again?” You nod and bite your lip, thinking about MJ waiting for you upstairs.

“Yeah no problem, do whatever you want, just stay safe - where are you just so you know where to find you?”

“Last bedroom on the right, I believe it’s Chad’s room or something.”

“Okay see you later, say hi to her from me, have fun.” He smiles one last time before going back to his dancing competition with Ned.

Oh you will.

You run up the stairs and to the bathroom to give yourself a quick glance in the mirror.

Your eye make-up is a little smudged but with a few wipes it’s back to being nearly flawless.

You give your hair a few tugs and scrunches, turning and looking at your own reflection over your shoulder. You look good.

Your eyes are still a bit red despite not feeling high anymore. You’re completely sobered up at the thought of what’s about to happen.

You wonder for a moment whether MJ is only doing this because she’s high and can’t think straight, but you’ll just make sure to talk to her.

After washing your hands, you hurry back to the room to find MJ with her legs pulled up to her chest, a finger nervously between her teeth.

“Did you find him?”

“Yes he’s totally cool with it, just like I thought.”

The tension leaves her shoulders and she smiles, making room for you on the bed.

“Just one last question. Are you too high to consent?”

“No, not at all to be honest. Not any more. I want to do this but only if you do too, but you don’t have to do this just because you feel bad for me.”

“I’m not doing this because I feel bad for you, but because you deserve to feel good. And if I can help you then I‘m more than happy to do so.”

She automatically spreads her legs when you sit down in front of her.

“Also, I don’t want to promise that I’ll make you cum because I’ve never been with a girl. But I think it’s easier for me than for Peter because I know what everything feels like and I’ll gladly try.” Your hands stroke along her bare legs, and you’re happy she wore a skirt to the party for once.

You’re not sure what’s appropriate in this situation, so your hands and your lips stay at her legs, pushing her skirt higher and peppering her inner thighs with kisses and flicks of your tongue.

“Just think about something that sexually excites you,” you tell her and she nods, closing her eyes, “You wanna tell me? You don’t have to.”

“I don’t want this to come across as weird but.. this is quite exciting,” she nervously fiddles with the hem of her skirt but you’re quick to reassure her, “It’s not weird. I think so too.”

And with that she finally relaxes into the large pillows behind her and you lift one of her legs over your shoulder, moving closer between her legs.

As she drags her skirt up to her waist, she also pulls her red shirt up to reveal her bare chest.

“No bra? I like that.” You smile and she laughs.

You move up to lick her nipples, knowing how much that can add to someone’s pleasure and she gasps at the wetness of your mouth against her, breathing hard now.

“Okay okay, I’m turned on enough now you can..” she smiles, telling you it’s enough foreplay and when your fingers wander to her panties you can already feel how wet she is, proud of yourself as you wonder if Peter’s ever made her feel this good.

Although you’d love to tease her some more, you also just want to make MJ feel good and your fingers start trailing up and down the front of her panties, and it’s like you can feel her flooding her underwear at your touch.

You decide to pull her panties off her legs completely and she’s nearly so wet that it looks like she’s already cum.

You gather some of the wetness with your finger and start circling her clit and her legs around your head twitch.

She’s already squirming with just your finger touching her, you decide to pull away and instead both your fingers spread her lips and your tongue presses against her clit instead.

“Fuck MJ, you taste really good,” you hear a swallowed moan from above you and you tell her she can be loud to which she responds with the most erotic sound you’ve ever heard.

You try flicking, sucking, swirling your tongue at her clit, and once you move your tongue in a circular motion her whole body jerks forward, so you stay with that.

“Fuck that feels good”

“Yeah, you close?” You pause for only a second before going back to making her feel good.

“I think so, don’t stop.”

Your tongue continues working her over and as her legs tense and her eyes squeeze shut, you can tell she’s there. You watch her as she comes undone on your tongue, and you’re grateful for every second of pleasure you get to give her.

You don’t stop until she’s pushing your head away, out of breath.

“Sorry, just wanted your first orgasm to be amazing.”

“Fuck, it was, that really was fucking amazing”, she breathes.

“Wanna go again?” And with how you look between her legs, and how good you’ve made her feel, and it didn’t even take you more than five minutes, she definitely wants to go again.

“Hey Ned, mind if I go and look for MJ and Y/N, see where they are?”

But Ned is preoccupied, celebrating his third win of the Just Dance competition so Peter pats him on the shoulder and makes his way up to the room you’d told Peter you and MJ were smoking in.

He finds a room at the end of the hall with a sign saying ‘Chad’ on it and pushes the door open.

“Hey I thought I‘d just come check on you tw-”

He stops at the sight. You’re lying between his girlfriend’s legs, your tongue inside of her and her hands tugging at your hair.

“Uh, what the fuck I-” But he’s at loss for words.

MJ pulls her skirt down, covering absolutely nothing, and opens her mouth but you beat her to it.

“You said it was okay so don’t look like you’ve just witnessed a murder and also can you shut the fucking door!” You shout, already seeing anger on his stupidly surprised face.

“What you said was that you two were going to have fun and when I asked if you were smoking you said yes I assumed you meant that!” His arms flail around as he points at you, at MJ, then at himself.

“You said stay safe and then have fun and I assumed that was an allusion to sex!”

“What no, I meant because you were smoking!”

Of course you’re aware of your vagueness when you first talked to Peter. But he’s mad and MJ looks more than terrified and you can feel your own blood boiling so you bring up the topic that really matters.

“Peter, you can’t be mad at me when I just gave poor MJ her very first orgasm!” you reason and for the first time since he’s come in the room he doesn’t look like he’s about to kill you for making his girlfriend have an orgasm (which was ridiculous to begin with).

“What no I-” He doesn’t believe you at first but then he looks at MJ, sees her (not justified) guilty expression, and realises he’s fucked up.

“So we’ve been together for two years and you’ve been lying to me this whole time! Why would you do that?” And he’s mad again.

“Hey don’t give MJ shit for your lack of skill!”

For the first time MJ chimes in. “Sex isn’t all that important in our relationship and you do put in an effort and I appreciate it. It just isn’t enough but I didn’t want to hurt your feelings.”

“My feelings? What, I feel like the biggest asshole. I’ve been getting off all this time and you didn’t even say anything - wow - I’m so stupid.” For the first time tonight you agree with what Peter’s saying, “I’m sorry, I should’ve paid more attention to you. I was so sure that your orgasms were real…” He looks at the floor and although you’re still proud that you could give MJ what he couldn’t, you let his hurt and sad puppy look get to you and stand up, slapping his chest lightly.

“Stop moping and come here. It’s not too late to learn, Parker. I’ll show you,” you pull him down onto the bed to join you and his girlfriend.

MJ sits up, still worried.

“We’re good, right?” MJ asks. She just got eaten out by someone who is not her boyfriend so you guess the question is rather valid, but you roll your eyes anyway.

“Of course, I mean I should be asking you that, I’m the one who fucked up.”

“You have a lot to make up for,” MJ looks at you while she talks to Peter and you nod, letting her know what she’s saying is right, “But yes we’re good, I love you.”

“I love you.”

You watch them kiss and see his eyebrows furrow at the new taste on MJ’s lips. He doesn’t say anything but with his advanced senses he smells the same between MJ’s legs and on your face and he really wishes he’d been there to see what you two got up to.

You’re more than proud to say that you made MJ come in less than half of the time Peter took.

You say goodbye to both of them as they seem to want a bit of alone time, but you’ll always know you made MJ come first.

She smooths down her skirt and stands up with you, shutting the door behind her so that Peter can’t hear you two talking in the hallway.

“Thanks for today, I’ll have to repay you sometime,” she whispers to you with a knowing smirk before she slips back into the room to return to her boyfriend.

#mj x reader #mj smut #michelle jones x reader #spideychelle #peter parker #peter parker x reader #?#mj x you #mj x y/n #michelle jones smut #also why did i pick the name chad? lmao #and i know at the end he probably heard them but? i dont really care #fem!reader #selfcarecap

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delicrieux · 3 years

Text

☆ﾐ 𝚖𝚊𝚔𝚎 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚜𝚊𝚢 “𝚘𝚑”

PART 23: PRETTY BOY

emotions run wild when everyone is drunk and hardly coherent. quackity is always loud, but tonight is a full on assault on the senses (the ears, in particular). bretman simps for corpse too much for your liking. rae is happy for once. there’s a confession of love somewhere in there. sister james makes a very good impostor, but that’s old news, the real question is who gave you a knife? a new persona emerges that leaves the roaches quivering in their boots.

─── corpse husband x reader, a lil bit of everyone x reader (because she’s a queen) ─── soc. media + written fiction! ─── word count: a lil over 7k.

author’s note: it’s the way i can’t follow a fucking calendar for me. sorry guys, i swear to god i thought i had one more day before thursday . the idiot award goes to me and i accept it with pride. anyway, i was excited to write this for a while! quackity is in mexico, that’s why he drinks, too. my fic, my rules, he’s too funny not to include. im also working on an extra w dream and mr quack so look forward to that, too! hopefully u like this part ily xx and as always lmk wat u think!!

ultimate masterlist. ҉ myso masterlist ҉ previous. ҉ next.

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The outfit for today was picked with care and consideration. Hot, as always- you had forgotten your roots, your hoodie and sweats lay hidden in the bottom of your drawer never to be worn on stream again. You’ve changed. Clout really does that to people. Some viewers, naturally, find your hotness near insulting: how dare you rub your beauty in their faces, and so unabashedly, too?! If only you had a twinge of self-awareness, perhaps you would tone it down. But you don’t, and whether that’s by choice or not is the mystery the whole internet tries to solve (ARMY has been working diligently, and you admire their effort, though in the end their tireless labor brings no tangible results).

You went from hot to hotter. In all truth, the fires eating away at California can be blamed on you. You carry this burden in stride, in your platform overpriced shoes some girl scammed you on Depop with, in your fishnets, in your skirt, in your corset, in your rings and necklaces and chains. You woke up today and chose violence. Decided your existence will be a plague to the rest of the populace, and meant it (that, maybe, you took inspiration from a certain faceless Youtuber that so happens to be your boyfriend or whatever). You feel powerful. Like you could step on the world and the world would let you. You decide that it’s the way it should always be.

The smile on your lips informs of nothing good to your quaint, small audience of 40k. You change the lighting in your room from the soft cherry blossom pink to menacing violet. As fitting for a villain.

Perhaps California’s hellish sun has finally purged you of your bubbly, docile nature (arguably, you had never possessed it to begin with); perhaps it’s the forth mimosa you’re mixing as people slowly trickle into the lobby. Who knows?! Not you, definitely. What do all of those boring dead white European philosophers say? Embrace the unknown? Cheers, you’ll drink to that.

In stark contrast to your appearance, your room is a fucking mess. A war-zone of epic anime scale. Everything is scattered, well, everywhere. A perfect representation on what’s going on in your mind, always. You don’t like how people focus on your surroundings-- you’re the main attraction, hello? Are you not enough to sustain them? Must they beg for more?! Totally ungrateful. You shake your head in disappointment, as if a mother scolding her children.

noooooo! mom pls forgive me i will never ask abt anything ever again T_T

yall looking at the room? lol couldnt be me

feels like im five and my mum just told me i cant eat a pretty rock i found on the pavement:(

You can’t contain your sly grin. Eyes twinkle with a purplish hue, appearing all the more menacing. You tricked them once again, oh how absolutely evil of you. In your blind delight you accidentally spill champagne on your lap.

“-Oop, fuck.” You snort.

why does she sound like goofy

The scandalous drunk Among Us stream is about to start. You had been eerily silent through the greetings, and those that chose to approach you were met with a cold shoulder and minimal replies. All on purpose, of course. You wish to plant a seed of unease within them, and so far, it’s working. There are questions unanswered, jokes unsaid, Quackity unteased. It breaks your heart, but it must be done. You look into the camera, all vulnerable and devout, as if to say: I’m doing this for you, all for you.

pack it up yandere simulator

idk whats going on but i think im into it?

villain arc villain arc villain aRC VILLAIN ARC

“Hey, guys,” Corpse’s voices rings in your headphones, and not a blink later his astronaut appears in the lobby in a cloud of smoke, “Hi, Y/n.”

More sharp, excited hellos follow after. You merely hum, though give no further reply. As Corpse strays to your side, Charlie steps in in front of him, “BDA access only. You have a permit, bitch?”

“Y/n is being quiet-she’s being quiet, guys!” Quackity helpfully informs, as if the rest failed to notice your cryptic silence, “Don’t be sad Corpse, man, Corpse don’t be-she didn’t say shit to me either.”

“Y/n has decided to not waste her breath on the SDS.” Charlie voices, “And you know what? I actually agree with her for once.”

“SD-what now?” Dream questions.

“The Small Dick Society.” Charlie explains, noting Dream’s whine of protest, “Oh no, don’t give me that shit, weren’t you bitching about not being invited and not belonging to exclusive clubs? Congratulations, you’re finally part of one.”

“Wait!” Quackity interjects, “Am I part of it too?”

“Guess, Sherlock.”

“I’ll drink to that.” Corpse says. You nod to your audience, like he just spoke the God honest truth, and follow in his example. Your tentative sip unexpectedly turns into a greedy gulp, but you’re not complaining. The only slightly coherent thought that rings in your mind is drink tasty.

“Ignore them,” Rae chimes, “Y/n’s probably plotting something and using Charlie as a cover up.”

“I’d never.” The words slip past your lips before you can stop them.

“Well you sure are very quick to deny it.” You can hear her smirking, can hear the proud lilt in her voice, like she caught onto your silly little scheme, like she has you all figured out. Your eyes narrow dangerously. The night behind your window pools dark, with far away city lights glimmering before they, too, seem to dim.

Your roommate is back on your shitlist. How her name was missed among the rest.

“I’m defending my honor.” You yelp, the playfulness back in your voice along with your sunny smile, “I can’t have my wifey slandering me online. At least do it in private, geez.”

If Rae’s such a good detective, you’ll give her a good chase. Perhaps you’ve been laying it on too thick. Made her too suspicious. She can’t out you yet--not when your plans are so grand, so fun. It would be a waste.

“Why weren’t you saying anything then?” Quackity questions.

“Do I need a reason not wanting to talk to you?” You shoot back. Your friends laugh and he tries to shriek something past their cackle. You lean back into your chair, the tension from Rae’s confrontation finally easing. You wink at the camera and bring a finger to your lips. The roaches swear to secrecy, elated by your wickedness. As appropriate, they spam devil emojis and various renditions of evil hohohos and hehehes. The apple truly does not fall far from the tree. You had raised them well. You raise your glass in solidarity. A few donations fall into your pocket, easily summed up as: make them suffer.

Muting the discord call, you give a single response, “Oh, I intend to.”

i hope this doesn’t awaken something in me

^already too late for me bro

As caught up in wreaking havoc among your viewers as you are, you miss Sykkuno’s entrance, though from what you can tell, Charlie gave a stern warning to back the fuck off to him, too. He’s playing into your plan so beautifully. Truly, you couldn’t do this without him. Back to stalking the chat you go.

Your eyes flicker to the game upon Bretman’s signature drawl and “Hi, daddy.”. You have no time to get offended at Corpse’s sweet “Hi, honey” back, because the next person to join the discord call and the lobby leaves you speechless. You knew, of course, you had been informed of the line-up, but still, you had never expected yourself to be so close to Jomes Chorles himself. You make a weird gesture with your hands, half wave half excited wiggle, as if you’re telling the audience to calm down, when, in fact, it is you that needs calming.

He goes saying his hello’s like doing a public service, name by name, before, lastly, uttering, “Hi, Miss Y/n. Loooove the vids.”

He’s a roach in disguise, who could’ve known?! Your audience is so diverse and unexpected, gosh, you’d shed a tear if the mascara wasn’t so expensive.

“Hi!” You reply with a grin, and it’s genuine this time, a glimmer of your old self, “Hi, I love your videos, too. It’s like, really cool to finally meet you.”

“Oh my God, you too!” Is his enthusiastic reply, “Okay, the energy in the studio today? Love it.”

“Is this all of us?” Quackity asks.

“Sadly.” James says with a note of disappointment.

“HEY!”

“Okay, guys!” Ash chimes, “Let’s do this! Proximity Among Us, round one, go go go!”

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Luck does not shine upon you during the first round- you are stuck as Crew Mate, your life cut short by Bretman who had the audacity to bite your head off. You’re positive Ke$ha wrote her hit single Cannibal about him, and if she didn’t, she definitely had a That’s So Raven moment and predicted it. It’s also insanely suspicious as after you are eliminated he sticks real close to Corpse, feigning innocence (and this is a controversial opinion you do not endorse) better than even you. It wounds your pride, having been picked off so casually, so quickly, and now stuck a ghost you roam the halls of the dying spaceship, lost, confused, heartbroken.

Charlie runs past you, not once even glancing in your direction. “Brother...” You mutter sadly, “Do you not see me here? Do you not feel... the loss of your twin’s heartbeat...?" Damn, these mimosas really are making you emotional. You sniffle and take a sip to calm the storm within you. No rage, just sadness. You are still processing your own tragic demise.

Suddenly, a meeting is called. There’s a horrible red X on your astronaut. You are the only one dead so far, and of course the rest won’t vote out the fucker. How bitterly you sit! With your arms crossed over your chest and your glare sharp enough to cut through glass. Fuck the sad shit, now you’re just angry. At the very least, the second Impostor could’ve given you some company!

“I knew something felt off.” Charlie is first to speak.

“Who the fuck killed Y/n?” Corpse questions, and his voice ignites a whole discussion that lasts much too short. The others skip, having no suspect yet. It’s much too soon to start pointing fingers, but you still feel like they should have at least tried. Pouting, you fix yourself another drink.

“Stop drinking!?” You gasp, exasperated at your chats demands, “I’m dead! What else should I do, the tasks?! Nah, fuck that. I’m done. I’m out. Charlie better employ his fucking detective skills because if the Impostors win, I will literally quit the game--yes I will, no I’m not bullshitting, fucking watch me.”

Thankfully, Bretman was caught venting, and you didn’t have to end the stream prematurely. The second Impostor, your roommate (oh, the betrayal, Rae, how could you?!) was voted out due to Corpse’s suspicion. Victory to the Crew Mates! The game restarts and you find yourself back in the lobby.

“Miss Y/n,” Bretman says, “I am sooo sorry for killing you first, baby. It was just too easy. I couldn’t pass it up.”

Giggling, Quackity chimes, “Sister slaughtered.”

“Oh my God,” James groans, “shut up!”

“Yeah, Y/n.” Charlie speaks, and there’s an accusatory note in his calm voice, “Why the fuck did you allow yourself to be eliminated first? Real noob shit, I expected more of you.”

“HUH?!” You frown, “What’s with the victim blaming?! I literally was doing my task and Bretman snuck up on me. It’s not like I had a weapon to defend myself!”

“You have been avenged,” Corpse states, “and that’s all that matters.”

“Thank you, Corpse!” You say, “At least someone cares.”

“Hey, I helped, too!” Dream pipes up.

“No, you didn’t.” Corpse shoots him down, “I was the only one.”

“You were not--”

“Literally was. Isn’t that right, Sykkuno?”

“Uhhhh-” Sykkuno trails off, “Well, we-we all helped!” You can hear his shy smile, and you just know he’s bobbing his head up and down at this exact moment, “We all helped. Team work!”

“Team work!” The rest echo, save for yourself, Corpse, Charlie, and the two Impostors. Silence speaks more than a thousand words or whatever. You pray to any higher power willing to listen to finally assign you the role of the villain, the one you were born to do.

Sadly, higher powers must have either shitty customer service or are in need of hearing aids, and you almost scream in frustration when your astronaut appears along with the others, the bold CREW MATE title chipping away at your master plan.

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“Hey, Y/n, hey! Hey, Y/n!” Rae finds you in Cafeteria, where you, metaphorically, are eating your feelings. Not that she needs to know, of course. She sounds chipper, a bit ditsy, and that must mean she’s sufficiently tipsy. You store that information for later, and forget about it as soon as you notice Dream and Sykkuno, like her very own personal bodyguards, trailing after her, “Wanna play a game?!”

“Is this Saw?” You inquire, somewhat lazy. You’d be lying if you said the alcohol wasn’t affecting you, it’s just instead of making you bubbly, it makes you mellow. This was supposed to be fun, you were supposed to terrorize everyone and laugh as they perished by your hand, yet here you are, wallowing in self-pity. The roaches start worrying. The donation jingle chimes.

BEATINGS & SLUTATIONS yns_fishnets donated 5$ mom just wait it out & dont worry youll get your vengeance soon lead them on!!!!

Your fishnets have a point!

“Saw?--No, no, haa, no it’s a drinking game.” Dream sounds like he has had one too many rounds of this mysterious game, and naturally, you are intrigued.

“Where we drink!” Sykkuno clarifies. Right, well that explains everything! If you had any questions, you surely have none now.

“Okay, so, name a category, and you have to, like, say a word associated with it...Or something along those lines.” You hadn’t even agreed and Rae is explaining the rules already. She knows you too well. It’s both a blessing and a curse, “Can be anything! Okay, Y/n, Y/n, Y/n start!”

“Uhh--” If only your brain computed as fast as she spoke! “Song lyrics! Wait--who drinks?”

“You fail, you drink!” She hurries, “Choke me like you hate me but you love meeeeee. Syk, go, go go!”

“Uhm, ah, I don’t wanna feel like this, uh, fuck?” He laughs--it’s a raspy, embarrassed little sound, “I don’t...wanna look like this? Dream, now you!”

“Wait, we’re singing Corpse’s songs?”

“Any song!” You urge him quickly, “Hurry! Or drink!”

“She say I kill her cat like I'm Luka Magnotta--”

“Hey! That’s cheating! You can’t use my song!” Rae protest.

“That wasn’t in the rules!” He counters.

“Y/n! Time’s running out!” Sykkuno exclaims.

“Oh, uh, will-will the real Slim Shady please stand up!”

NOT EMINEM WHAT THE FUCK

MOOOM WHT THE HELL THIS ISNT 2008 T_T

“Ra-Ra-Rasputin, Russia’s greatest love machine--”

“All...All the other kids with the pumped up kicks better, uhh, run better run, faster...-faster than my gun?”

“Uhh, shit--fucking hell.” Dream laughs, and Rae practically screams at him to keep going, “Alright! Okay! I’m singing--uh, you’re so golden, na na na na?”

“I tell you what a woman loves most,” You chime gleefully, “it’s a man who can slap but can also stroke.”

finally, the mother mother representation we’ve all been waiting for

i aint exactly gay but i aint exactly not gay >:)

the bis won

“I steal a few breeeeaaaths from the woooorld for a minute--”

“Mitski?!” You question, eyes bulging, “Baby, who hurt you?”

Even if you can’t see her, you know she’s waving her arms around and shaking her head, “Not the point! Sykkuno!”

“Uh, I-I, uhm, I don’t--”

“Drinnnnk!” You all chorus.

“It was a good concert,” You say, “Syk, I’ll drink with you.”

“Thank you, Y/n. That’s very kind of you.” He says softly, with a smile lining his lips. You grin.

“Oh, fine. Everyone, bottoms up!” Rae decides, and no one protest. A moment of silence passes, then, “Well, GG, GG, let’s do some tasks?”

Your enthusiastic Ariana Grande-esque “yuh” is cut short by the second meeting of game two being called. The first one to go had been Ash, voted out during a bathroom break as a joke, and you still feel a bit bad about that. Now, you notice Charlie has been eliminated. A sense of righteousness fills you--while you mourn for your brother from another mother and father and family tree, you feel like this is divine punishment for slandering you before the start of this round. Karma. Nothing much is discussed, and the meeting ends shortly with everyone skipping.

You spend a good ten minutes wandering around with Dream, who’s mission appears to be convincing you to join his Minecraft server, and really, there was no need for him to try so hard. You failed to provide him with a concrete answer only because it would've been to humiliating to admit that you agreed instantly upon hearing the word Minecraft.

That’s when things get fucking weird. Another meeting is called whilst you’re in the middle of fixing lights, and once the board with the members appears you audibly gasp. There had been 8 living, breathing astronauts rushing around the map, and now only 4 remain. You, Corpse, James, and Alex.

“What the fuck--what the fuck?!” You screech alarmed, noting Dream being among the perished crew, “I was just with Dream fixing the lights, I was just with him, what the fuck--”

“Okay, no one panic.” James says, “Let’s figure this out. Okay? Okay. Who else is close to Electrical?”

“I’m at Nav.” Quackity says.

“I’m at Cafeteria, but Y/n--” Corpse starts, “kinda weird that Dream died when you were with him?”

“I didn’t fucking kill him, I swear to God, Corpse, why are you accusing me?”

“Don’t be so defensive.” He says smoothly, “I’m just pointing out the obvious. We all have a reason to be sus, no? Considering you were right with him.”

“...It is suspicious.” James agrees, and a part of you dies inside. You understand their hesitance to trust you, but it doesn’t make it any less frustrating!

“Guys, I didn’t kill him, I swear. He invited me to play Minecraft, I wouldn’t do that to him, not after that!”

Corpse merely hums, and it brings no comfort what’s so ever. The situation is spiraling, and not in your favor. Trying to salvage your chances at freedom, you try again, “Wh-James, James, you called the meeting, right?”

“Yeah, I found Rae’s body near Medical.”

“So I couldn’t have killed her and Dream at the same time!” You latch onto that piece of information, hoping it will save you.

“You could’ve vented.” Corpse points out, “Plus, there’s no telling how old the body is.”

“Killing five fucking people? It’s the work of one person, or else the game would have already ended. As it stands, I am no way sober enough to think all of this out.”

A brief silence hangs in the air; your lungs constrict from tension, from spilling words so hotly. You grasp your glass, as if for emphasis, and take a shy sip. It taste sweet, a bit too sweet for your liking. Must be your nerves. You drink again to wash the taste out of your mouth, which, surprisingly, doesn’t work. You whine a little, stomping your feet like a child about to throw a temper tantrum.

“...I believe her.” Quackity says. You breathe out a sigh of relief.

“Alex, thank youuuuuu!” You gush, batting your lashes as if he could somehow see you and that would somehow portray your innocence, “I knew I liked you for a reason!”

He mutes his mic, his spill of words lost to your ears, but chat helpfully informs that he’s screaming because you don’t hate him.

y/n out here collecting men like pokemon cards

Now all that’s left is to convince the others. You start with the one you know will work, “Corpse,” You address him in your sweetest voice.

“Y/n,” James warns, “don’t you dare--”

“Baby, I didn’t kill anyone, I’m crew mate, you gotta believe me.”

“She's innocent.” Corpse declare, thoroughly convinced.

“Oh my fucking God, you fucking simp!” James laughs, “She’s obviously manipulating you!”

“No, no, she isn’t. She’s innocent, I agree with Quackity. Now, it’s either you or him.”

“Could be you for all we know!” Alex accuses.

“Guys, time’s running out.” You mutter fretfully, noting the seconds tick by from white to red.

“I’m voting Alex.” Corpse says.

“What?! Fucking traitor! Fine, I’m voting for you.” Alex hisses.

“Ugh, hate agreeing with Quackity, but I’m also voting Corpse. Sorry, hon, nothing personal.” James says. The VOTED icons pop up beside their characters and you panic, pressing your mouse idly but it’s too late, there wasn’t enough time, and you cry as Corpse is thrown into lava. The chat spams F, and it feels like salt on a fresh wound.

In a second you’re back in Cafeteria, shell-shocked and trembling, and Quackity cusses because the Impostor is still among you. His frustration doesn’t last long as you watch in horror as Jams Chortles, beauty guru supreme, murders the only other crew mate in cold blood and all you can do is gape and let his cheerful laughter fill your ears. The screen bleeds red, informing of Impostor victory, the second one being Ash. Looks like you voted her off for the right reason, but little difference did it make.

“Corpse!” You yell past the cacophony of voices, all in varying forms of excitement or anger, beelining for his in-game figure, “Corpse, I’m so sorry, I panicked, I tried pressing the button but I wasn’t quick enough--”

“It’s alright, baby. Don’t worry about it.” He’s so calming, so gentle, you might burst into tears again. What did you do to deserve him? You wish he was with you so you could smother him in a hug. Alas, all you can do now is say “I kith you, mwah!” and rush to the other side of the lobby, as if to hide from such a bold display of affection, even if it was a joke (it wasn’t).

yall say corpse simps for y/n but the reality is y/n simps for corpse harder

queen stop its embarrassing

bhaddies can simp!! i wouldnt but its her choice <3

More deliberations, commentary, and short breaks. Once everyone has returned, the countdown starts. You’re still reeling from the chaos of emotions, the five stages of grief you experienced in 1 second upon Corpse’s unjust demise, that it takes you a moment, a single heartbeat to realize what you’re seeing on screen.

The letters IMPOSTOR hang above your astronaut, with Dream standing just behind you as your newly appointed partner in crime. And suddenly, all the sadness and the tenderness and sympathy vanish with a curt exhale. You slowly turn your head to the chat, muting the Discord call, your soft chuckle of disbelief turning into a full blown laugh.

it’s happening!!!!

omg omg omg omg

VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC VILLAIN ARC

You slap your palm over your lips, trying to contain your wicked smile, to tone down your broken giggles, “N-No, I can’t laugh yet,” shaking your head softly, you look into the camera, “they’re all going to die.”

pack it up light yagami

this has awoken something in me.

^ same

The crew mates go their own ways, rushing to do their tasks like the diligent little workers they are. How adorable. Their grim fate is still miles away from them. The shit you’ll pull will be for the history books. Much like your outfit, which you picked keeping in mind your newfound thirst for blood, you had devised your plan of action with care and consideration. You had been mulling it over all day, drawing on paper like the absolute madwoman you are; hell, you even made sticky notes on who to go for first and what to say. Sure, being moderately drunk hinders your memory slightly (an understatement of the century), but you got a feel for what you’re going to do. It’s nothing short of evil.

Dream and you don’t exchange words, you merely nod at him-- which he, of course, can’t see-- but your criminal bond enables telepathic communication. You can hear his thoughts, ones that strangely sound like drink drink, drink drink. And really, who are you to refuse such an enticing offer?! As he fucks off to stalk his victims, or play pretend, you take a sip. The cocktail is still sweet, but this time it’s not the icky sweet you had tasted prior. You glance at your sticky notes, ones the roaches can’t see, and nearly spill your drink for the second time today as you jerk.

“Fuck!” You exclaim, shoving your headphones off and spinning in your chair. You hastily stand up, wobble -- the world is pleasantly funny right about now -- and giggle. Stepping past the mountains of abandoned clothes and pillows and blankets and anime plushies, you maneuver your way to your bedside table and yank it open, nearly taking out the whole drawer with you. In the mess of old diaries and bad drawings, pencils, jewelry, and stickers, you fish out something you should not be wielding in your inebriated state.

It’s a knife.

In midst of teenage angst you had ordered it off of Amazon with your mom’s credit card, all the while whining that it’s not a phase, mom, and it’s what all of my cool kid friends with fried hair have, and don’t you want me to fit in, don’t you want your daughter to be happy?! You think it’s about that time, the time of too much uneven eyeliner and black eye shadow, that she took to calling you little raccoon. Trash rabbit was your personal favorite, but she used it sparingly. When you presented your Macy’s outfit, holding up a fucking butterfly knife, to your dad, asking if it was a look, he glanced up from some boring business magazine all boring business dads read and said, with a bright smile might you add, “It’s a something!”.

Oh, how it gleams in the lilac light. You used to do tricks with it, back in eight grade maybe, and--what the fuck? Why did you parents allow you to buy it in the first place? Well, because you’re the only child, the only one important, of course they got it for you and clapped enthusiastically at your performances, because why wouldn’t they? The whining they’d face otherwise would’ve been harder to endure than a whole dance number to Panic! At The Disco’s greatest hits. Broadway looked so fucking shabby in comparison. Your mom said so, so it must be true.

Stumbling back to your extremely confused viewers, you take your seat, feeling a bit more grounded now that you’re not standing on your platform shoes anymore. Putting on your headphones, you grin at the chat that starts swimming, and not from too much drinking either. You do a quick flick of your wrist, one that thankfully doesn’t end in injury, and the sharp tip of the exposed knife points upwards, glimmering. It’s a rainbow colored one, because one, it’s pretty, and two, you weren’t hardcore enough for the jet-black or straight up military ones the other emo kids had. Cute and dangerous, just like you.

So you just sit there, holding it up, looking somewhat sly as the roaches capture this momentous moment with screen-caps. Someone definitely clipped you trudging past the obstacle course to obtain a weapon of mass destruction. You must be already trending on Twitter, though you can’t exactly log on and confirm your suspicions. You just feel like you might be, like you should be, because your audience wouldn’t let this slide. Thankfully, your friends don’t have time to check social media, or you’d be outed in an instant.

“Y/n?” Your roommates voice booms from your headphones, and you perk up with a stupid realization that you completely forgot about Among Us. Stuck at the start, at the lobby where Dream had left you, you see her astronaut waddling to you, “What are you doing here? Wait--Have you not moved from the beginning?” She can barely finish the sentence without giggling.

You grin, “I was looking for something.”

Your voice is soft, too calm for your usual frantic spill. You gently set the knife down, hand coming to rest on your mouse, fingers idly, slowly, bouncing on the buttons.

“...What were you looking for?” She’s none the wiser, the numerous drinks consumed tonight numbing her sharp mind. She would have noticed. Your eerie composure would’ve given it away in a heartbeat, or at least hinted at something being objectively wrong. But she sounds curious. Poor girl, hasn’t she heard? Curiosity killed the cat.

“A knife.”

“A knife?!” There’s something about her tone that implies a mental clicking, the puzzle pieces falling together, “You have a knife?!”

“Yes.”

“No!”

You think it would only be appropriate that the random sequence of killing animations renders the backstabbing one. You grin, biting your lower lip with a quiet snicker.

i love women

if evil bad...why seggy?

You take your time leaving her there -- in true serial-killer-to-be fashion, you stick around for a bit longer, admiring your handiwork, or more like the chat singing your praises. You joined today with the intent of making an interesting stream. You have no doubt in your mind that now it will be legendary.

You move down the hallway, and you let your imagination wander: you can almost feel the stuffy air of your helmet, can almost hear your loud footsteps echoing in all this hush, can almost see your reflection in the spotless tile floor. It’s not long before your second victim makes an appearance, running circles in Cafeteria. You hear his voice first before you see him, recognizing Alex by his unhinged screech of “Let’s go, let’s go, let’s goooo!”

“And what’s got you so excited?” How cool and collected you are, gosh, you barely contain the quiver of excitement that threatens to slip out.

“Y/n!” He exclaims, rushing to your side like a lost puppy--he’s really making this easy for you, he’s not even trying, “You just missed--Oh my fucking God, you just missed James, he-he called me tall, he called me fucking tall! Let’s go, let’s gooooo!”

“Well, you are tall, aren’t you?” You chime sweetly, almost as sweet as the drink that lingers on the tip of your tongue, “Real 6′3 energy, no?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! You get it, you fucking get it--” Once again, his mic goes mute, and you glance at the chat for help.

hard to transcribe what hes saying but hes taking shots and yelling that he loves you good job mom

hey, queen! girl, you have done it again, constantly raising the bar for us all and doing it flawlessly

mom plz dont kill alex hes too cute hes all uwu rn

Oh, how you’re about to break his poor little heart. If you had any good left in you, you’d spare him. You don’t, and you’re not taking requests at the moment, so all you do is smile at your chat and they know. They just do. Hive-mind shit, you’re all two-faced little fuckers.

You giggle, and it sounds a tad fake, “You’re so weird, Alex,” You start, and he’s back in the call, a sound of confusion echoing in your ears, “but I get it, you know. You’re weird. You’re a weirdo. You don’t fit it, and you don’t want to fit in. I mean, really, has anyone even seen you without your stupid hat?”

“...Do--” He sputters, bellowing a laugh, “Do you have that whole fucking monologue memorized?!”

“Is it because you’re bald?”

“I’m not fucking bald!” His giddiness is quickly replaced by anger.

You hum, pretend to think, lastly barking a “Liar.” before you kill him. His scream is cut off, leaving only deafening silence at it’s wake. Unlike with Rae, you don’t stick around. You didn’t appreciate how little he enjoyed your recital.

You run into James near Navigation, most likely on his way to Cafeteria. He ends his song mid-note, and you breathe a sigh of relief, “Finally! Someone! I’ve been looking all over, where the hell is everyone?” You question, blocking his way, lest he accidentally stumbles onto the crime scene and easily pins it on you. You’re not done yet.

“Honestly? No clue. I’m searching for them myself, like, everyone’s scattered. I hope no one died.”

You smile. You tried not to, but you can’t contain it, “Me, too.” You echo the sentiment, urging him to join you, and he does. Too trusting. Everyone in this game is too fucking trusting. You lead him back to Nav, feigning that you have a task here. As you pretend to move the spaceship, you can’t help but ask, “Hey, James?”

“Yeah?”

“What’s your favorite scary movie?”

A beat of silence passes, “Oh no, fuck that, I don’t like this at all.” He states, about to spin on his heel and bolt like he should do, but you’re quicker-- killer instincts and all-- and he’s dead before he makes it out the doorway.

“See, after your No More Lies video, I figured you’d only tell the truth.” Yes, this is the part of the anime where the villain monologues, only the hero in this case is an astronaut cut in half, and not exactly alive to listen to you. You hope James’ ghost sticks around, “Case in point, why the fuck did you tell Quackity he’s tall?” You eye the chat, which’s mostly spamming W and comparing you to Ryo from Devilman Crybaby. “Such a shame...” You murmur, pressing the REPORT button.

“What?! How are so many people dead?!” Ash gasps, her kind voice tinted with fear and confusion. Your three kills, like military stars on an uniform of a distinguished officer, are displayed on the board. Dream appears to be slacking, having yet to take a life.

“Someone’s been real fucking busy.” Charlie observes. It’s true, you have been.

“I found James in Nav, but holy shit--” You begin, exasperated, “--what the fuck, guys, how did we miss this shit? Where is everyone?”

“I’m at Electrical.” Corpse voices.

“And I’m with Corpse.” One sentence is all it takes to figure out your next target: Bretman. Revenge for being killed first in the first goddamn round, and for spending so much time with your boyfriend.

Eep!!! Boyfriend boyfriend boyfriend!!! The word even makes you forget your thirst for blood, that’s how whipped you are. Sadly, it’s time to return to reality, to this grave situation.

“And what have the two of you been conspiring?” You keep your tone level, but that alone is enough to set everyone off. The unease you had planted within them before the game started is starting to bloom. However, if they suspect you, they don’t speak up, not yet.

“Fishnets, mostly.” Corpse says.

only partly a lie he was mostly talking abt u queen <3

corpse simping for y/n is the sweetest thing ever

the times corpse used y/ns name when talking abt y/n: 1. the times he used baby or my baby: infinite

“I’m wearing them right nyoooow.” Bretman drawls.

You hum, “What a coincidence. I am, too.”

“Wait--For real?” That seems to catch Corpse’s attention, because of course it does, you picked them with him in mind, after all.

“No peeping.” You tsk, obviously referring to his tendency to hop onto your stream unprompted. Whether he actually listens to your demands is beyond you, “Peeping means cheating.”

“For the love of fuck all, can we get back to the three dead bodies, please? Because I’m about to have a second coming of Christ moment and taste my consumed, digested beer for the second time.” Charlie interjects.

“I mean, anyone have any ideas who’d do this?” Dream takes hold of the conversation. Quiet, disappointed nos greet him. They have nothing to go on, no clues, not even a subliminal message. With everyone scattered, there is no way of locating the actual bodies and drawing a long red trail leading back to you.

You’re too good at lying, and Dream is too good of a publicist. People tend to trust his judgement, which is his main asset (besides his calm demeanor of course). When the Among Us gods chose you as Impostor, they made sure you had every advantage.

“Who-Who do you think it is, Dream?” Ash questions, “I trust you. I do. Just know that.”

“No fucking clue.”

“Y/n?” She tries again.

“Same. I’m a bit worried, though.”

“Let’s, uhhh, let’s skip?” Sykkuno offers. The consensus is to start voting at six. Your new mission is to make sure you dwindle the numbers down drastically before that can happen. You have no qualms about sacrificing Dream in order to meet your goals, either. Absolutely cold blooded.

Back at Cafeteria, there are words exchanged about Quackity’s body just laying there, forgotten. Blame is shifted: how come we didn’t notice sooner? Where’s Rae? And you mindlessly go along with their mourning, not really paying attention. Dream leaves with Charlie and Sykkuno, Corpse requests you stay with him and you sprout fake apologies. Not his time yet. Us girls need to stick together!, you sing, following after Ashley and getting further and further away from him, going deeper and deeper into the labyrinth of the spaceship.

You find yourself in Security with her, her cute astronaut pressed to the cameras, watching the live feed, “Let’s lurk here, okay? Maybe we’ll see something.” If only she saw who was standing behind her.

“Who do you think is the Impostor?” You ask, standing in the doorway, “Or, more like, who are the Impostors?”

“Honestly?” She ends her word with a little sigh, “I think it might be Corpse and Bretman. I haven’t seen them at all this game.”

You smile, raising your brows, tilting your heard, and you sound so kind, like a dear old friend about to deliver a tender message, “...Have you seen me?”

“SHIT!”

Too late. In one smooth motion she joins the afterlife. You cut the lights, venting mindlessly till you spot Corpse and Bretman panicking in Weapons. Your existence is still a mystery to them.

“Fuck fuck fuck fuck--” Corpse mumbles, “Bretman, don’t you dare fucking kill me right now.”

“I’m not Impostor!”

“Okay, I’ll drink to that.”

They rush out of Weapons, most likely on their way to Electrical, and you trail after them like the Grim Reaper itself, biding your time till you can deliver the killing blow.

“Corpse?!” You call out, mild panic ringing in your voice, “Is that you?”

“Shit, Y/n? Where are you?” He questions. Crew vision is so sad, so small, how can he not see you standing almost right next to him? “Where’s Ash?”

“I dunno,” You say, “when the lights went out I ran. Please don’t kill me.”

“I’d never do that, baby.”

Too easy. They’re all too fucking easy. You bite your lower lip, trying to stop the laugh bubbling in your chest, to stop the lightheaded dizziness that overcomes you with a rush of excitement.

“Thanks, pretty boy.” You mutter, and it sounds a bit lower than you intended, a bit darker, something sinister lurking underneath cotton candy words. It instantly clicks in Bretman and he makes a noise, something like a whine, and you see him backing away, “I know I can always trust you.”

Whether Corpse notices the odd shift in tone, he doesn’t show it, “I like it when you call me that.” Is all he says, and you hear the smile in his voice, the appreciation. The trek to Electrical is all but forgotten. You slowly make your way to Bretman, “Where are you? Come here.”

“Just a minute,” You say cheerily, “I just need to kill Bret first.”

“Holy shit.”

“N-” Your victim’s sentence is cut off in a second, and you can’t contain your manic cackle this time, because the screen bleeds red, the words VICTORY splattered on it, depicting yours and Dream’s sneaky astronauts. You’re still laughing as the voices of your fallen friends ring in your ears.

“Y/n, what the fuck, you’re an actual monster.” Dream says, but there’s no actual weight behind his words, each syllable punctured with a laugh.

“I knew the second she asked me about my favorite scary movie that I’d get the chop.” James states.

“Wait, Y/n, did you kill everyone?” Corpse questions.

“She fucking did!” Dream answers for you, “I got Charlie and Sykkuno, and barely at that. What the fuck.”

“I’ve been waiting so fucking long for this.” You admit, giggling, raising you glass, “I toast to you, Dream. My perfect partner in crime.”

“I didn’t really do shit, but cheers.”

Quackity heaves a heavy sigh, “Y/n, Y/n, you don’t actually think I’m weird, right? Right?”

“No, she does.” James chimes.

“WHAT THE FUCK DID I EVER DO TO YOU, DUDE?!”

More commotion, more noise, and you just sit there, buzzed, snickering, reading the chat as the rest agree to play another round. You thank the people who donated that you had accidentally missed among the, you know, murder, reply to a few questions, bow dramatically to the many praises and invisible flowers you receive for such beautiful assassin work. When you look back at the screen, you throw your head back with a maniacal laugh.

Impostor again, only this time it’s with Charlie. Family bonds are often restored when united under a common goal. You’re so happy. So happy. You weren’t done terrorizing your friends yet.

✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼　 ҉ 　✼

tags (in italics is those i couldn’t tag! make sure all’s ok w your settings!) : @littlebabysandboxburritos - @fairywriter-oracle - @tsukishimawh0re - @ofstarsanddreams - @bbecc-a - @annshit - @leahh19 - @letsloveimagines - @bellomi-clarke - @wineandionysus - @guiltydols - @onephootinfrontoftheother - @liamakorn - @thirstyfangirl - @lilysdaydreams - @pan-ini - @mxqicshxp - @tanchosanke - @yoshinorecommends - @flightsandfantasy - @liljennyx3 - @bingusmode - @unknown-and-invisible - @sinister-sleep - @fivedicksinatrenchcoat - @mercury–moon - @peterparkerspjsuit - @unstableye - @simonsbluee - @shinyshimaagain - @ppopty - @siriuslystupid - @crapimahuman - @ofthedewthesunlight - @mythicalamphitrite - @artsyally - @corpsesimpp - @corpsewhitetee - @corpse-husbandsimp - @hyp-oh-critical - @roses-and-grasses - @rhyrhy462 - @sparklylandflaplawyer - @charbkgo - @airwaveee - @creativedogs - @kaitlyn2907 - @loxbbg - @afuckingunicornn - @fleurmoon - @yeolliedokai

more tags are in the comments bcs tumblr only allows me to tag 50 people max 💙

#corpse husband #corpse #corpse husband x reader #corpse x reader #corpse social media au #corpse husband x y/n #corpse husband fic #corpse husband social media au #social media au #myso #make you say oh #quackity #dream smp #corpse x y/n #imagine #imagines #reader #xreader

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“you make me so angry sometimes”

idk if this gif makes sense, but i feel like it will if you read the story, it just gives me that vibe.

A one shot I cooked up idk, it’s about Harry and a makeup artist on DWD, it’s quite angsty, idk how that happened, it’s also very long, idk how that happened either, maybe i do a part 2, maybe i don’t idk lmk. Feedback is appreciated, not proofread. REBLOGS help writers tremendously and i love reading whatever you write in the tags its my favorite thing!! Love yall and Merry Christmas!

Word Count: 17.7k | Warnings: ENEMIES to LOVERS! swearing, angst!, some anxiety -like self-doubt, yn being mean to harry kind of a lot, i dont remember, nothing too crazy, Nick Kroll?, lots of conversation

When she pictured herself as a makeup artist in Los Angeles, she hadn’t pictured exactly what she was doing right now.

She had expected doing gorgeous makeup for gorgeous actresses or doing wildly fun stuff like in Euphoria. And because of that she had worked her ass off to get where she was today. She had practiced for hours, worked countless hours for free, and networked to the cows came fucking home.

So why the fuck was she using tattoo-strength concealer to cover up the maybe 60 tattoos some asshole musician turned actor had all over?

Don’t Worry Darling was her first major film to work on so she couldn’t complain. She was happy to simply be there. Well she had been. The first day she had showed up 15 minutes early and had worn her favorite power suit she had. It was dark navy with a white lace long sleeve turtleneck underneath. She hoped to look fun but professional.

Hollywood was all about impressions, especially first ones, even when you’re the makeup artist. She had quickly learned that she was one of six makeup artists. One of them being the friend who had helped her get the job, Angie. Angie was like her surrogate mother in Los Angeles that she had met on her first film job for something much less high profile than Olivia Wilde’s second directing project. Her braided grey hair and fabulous jeans had drawn Y/N right in and they had connected instantly.

Since Y/N was deemed the most inexperienced by the head of the makeup department, she was relegated to easier jobs: assisting the other artists on main characters sometimes, mostly dealing with minor characters touch ups (and full make-up if she was lucky), and the job nobody wanted: tattoo coverage.

Harry Styles was one of the leads for the film and besides his minimal acting, everyone knew he was a worldwide rockstar. With the rock and roll life starting off as a popstar life at the ripe age of 16, he had amassed around 60 tattoos in the past decade. Impressive by her standard normally. She usually counted herself as an appreciator of tattoos and their art, finding them similar to makeup and the self expression that came with both forms. Especially since she had a few of her own, but when she walked into Trailer #6 and saw a good amount of Harry’s tattoos, she wanted to murder every artist he’d ever been to.

She had to make an inventory the first day of all of his visible tattoos when he was just wearing boxers. He had been friendly, trying to make conversation, but as the time wore on, they both grew tired and silent. She had to write down the location and a description of every tattoo and as he took off everything but boxers she grew more and more annoyed with his random and dumb tattoos. Some of them were amazing, the eagle, the anchor, the butterfly, and the ferns were probably her favorites. But some of them, she couldn't hold back her rolling eyes and annoyed expressions. The “Big” on his right big toe, a miniscule lock, almost everything on his inner left arm (the packers logo, Pingu, etc.)

She traces at the rose and the ship and then flips his arm out to reveal his inner arm to her gaze. “That is a big fucking bee.”

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

She ignores his question. “For god’s sake, someone is needle happy,” she said as she examined his left arm, taking note of every permanent drawing.

He shrugs his right shoulder, uninhibited by her prodding. “Dunno, beginning to regret some of them.”

“I would hope,” she mutters, scribbling on her paper the various ones she had just seen on his arm. Next was his ribcage ones.

He scoffs, “Oi, it’s not like you haven’t got any.”

“How would you-” She looks at him wide eyed.

“Right…” he takes his right hand and pushes her hair past her ear to reveal three little red line butterflies following the curve of her ear, “There. At least.”

She huffs and knocks his hand away from her. Her hair falling back into its place.

“Maybe some located in a few more intimate places I’m guessing from the red rushing to your cheeks right now.”

“Can you just let me do my job,” she says, not giving in to his teasing or sparing him a glance as she feels his intense gaze on her face. She was studying his left rib cage where a few cool tattoos happened to be.

“You at least have some taste or persuasive artists because not all of these are shit,” she speaks again after just the sound of her pen on the paper filled the trailer.

“Gee, thanks,” he laughs unamused and rolls his large green eyes.

She thought he had some of the biggest eyes she’d ever seen. But she also knew to keep that to herself because he’d either take it as a compliment and think she was noticing him too much or he’d take it as a massive insult and get her fired.

His right hand taps at his thigh, tapping a rhythm she didn’t care to pay any attention too. She just wanted to finish the stupid inventory of the stupid tattoos on this stupid man.

“Take those off,” she says to Harry, looking back at her clipboard again, filling up quickly with her notes.

He stands there, staring at her stubbornly. He was entirely bored with this exercise, especially since his company was some of the worst he’s ever had. She spares him a glance when she doesn’t notice any slipping off of the colorful sweatpants he’s wearing.

She arches a brow at him, her pen tapping impatiently against the paper. “Go on. Can’t imagine you want this to go on longer than it already has.”

He rolls his eyes again, slipping his thumbs into the waistline of the pants and tugging down. Simultaneously, he toes off the dirty vans he seemed to wear everywhere. The fabric pools easily and he steps out of them and discards them on the couch behind him. He’s actually wearing black briefs. She chooses not to notice anything further than that.

“Socks...can stay on,” She tries to say as he begins to peel one off. He stops midway and nods.

She flings his shirt to him, not needing to see his naked torso for another moment, “I know you’ve got some feet and ankle tats, but I also know that you won’t be wearing anything that will expose them. Thank your lucky stars that I don’t have to makeup your feet.”

He catches the shirt easily and slips his arms inside before tugging it quickly over his head and over his expansive shoulders. The ferns disappear out of sight.

“Well then we’re almost done then. Just got the knee ones -”

“And the tiger. That’s gonna be one son of a bitch,” she sighs and examines his legs, not bothering to crouch.

“What the actual fuck dude?” Her tone is exasperate and like she would rather be anywhere else than here.

“I’m sorry?” He sputters, hands on his hips and eyes bewildered.

“Yes. No. Oui. Non. Who are you?” She rubs at her eyes and shakers her head.

“S’a little rude.”

“You’re right,” she semi-rushes out at his serious tone, ready to apologize. When a grin spreads over his face and he chuckles under his breath she really wants to smack him upside the head. He was exhausting. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Thought it was funny at the time. Kind of think it’s even funnier now since it’s got you all mad.” He leans over her shoulder to look at her notes and when she glances at him unhappily he just looks smug.

“Alright,” she finishes the scribble of a description and clicks the end of her pen, “All done. You can get dressed. I’ll see you bright and early for tattoo makeup. It’s gonna take about an hour to do all this, just so you can mentally prepare for that.”

“It was nice to meet you,” he attempts at a friendly and professional farewell. “See you tomorrow…” he trails off as he watches her turn on her heel and walk out of the trailer door swiftly. The door swung shut and bounced a little bit in her wake.

Harry sighed and adjusted his clothes and hair in the mirror. After a moment he shakes his head, an even louder sigh escaping him.

“Good morning!” She greets happily, walking into the trailer without a knock. Well-rested and happy at least that she doesn’t have to just inspect a body, she looks around the trailer.

She realizes no one is there and she’s taken aback. First of all, if Harry wasn’t there then he shouldn’t have left his trailer unlocked. And second, he was fucking late, the fucking twat.

She grumbles, setting her coffee on the countertop. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “In through the nose, out through the mouth” she mutters. She knew this was a big opportunity and having a big star like Harry in her corner could make her career. She needed them to get off on a better foot today.

“Good form, I’d say relax the shoulders a little more,” the door swings open carrying the California twang-British accent that she would soon become all too accustomed to.

Harry points at her shoulders and narrows his eyes regarding her in the trailer. She offers a strained smile through the mirror and Harry sets down his personal things on the couch.

“Alright, well let’s get started shall we,” she smiles and turns to him, gesturing to the swivel chair next to her.

He nods, a twinkle in his eye as he regards her. He’s unsure of the tone and attitude she’s giving him today. She had been feisty yesterday, cordial at times, but mostly biting and witty. He had liked it. It had made the whole ordeal bearable whereas now she seemed to be laying it on a little thick.

“Just your hands and neck today,” she says, pulling out the makeup materials needed and a checklist of the tattoos she needed to make sure were invisible.

“Should only take..a little under an hour today. Just gonna remind you now though, other days we won’t be so lucky.”

Harry chuckles under his breath and rolls his head around his shoulders before sitting in the chair. “Were you tired yesterday?” He inquires.

“Why do you ask?” She throws a glance over her shoulder at Harry. He’s begun slipping off his sweatshirt and yawns as he does it.

“You seem different from yesterday and I’m just wondering which one is the real you.”

She continues working about the room and rolls her eyes to herself, “I’m always the real me. I come no other way, but this morning I woke up and thought ‘this is the job you’ve fucking wanted for ages, so stop being such a bitch so you don’t get fired, you prick’.” She pauses and turns to face Harry. “The ‘you prick’ was directed at me, that was still part of my thought,” she adds.

He throws his head back and laughs. Then he nods, still laughing lightly, “I get that. Sometimes I’m just so in my head and yesterday I was just so fuckin’ bored. Sorry if I got on your nerves.”

“Don’t mention it.” She waves her hand at him nonchalantly.

Then she moves to inspect his hands and notices the lack of rings, unlike yesterday when she had to make him take them off.

“You have amazing cuticles,” she notices and mentions without any pretences. Harry mutters his thanks, pursing his lips as he watches her work.

She stops her inspection and places the clipboard on the countertop in front of them.

“Could you take your necklaces off? I need to cover up half of the swallows and the years, for when you unbutton your shirt a bit.”

He wets his lips and nods, hands going to fiddle with the clasps behind his neck. He slips off one of the necklaces with ease, a yellow eye beaded necklace that he lays gently on the countertop next to the clipboard. Then he takes his cross and pulls it over his head, no clasp needed.

“Could I put some music on?” Harry asks after five minutes of Y/N working in silence and Harry only being able to stare either at himself, her work, or nowhere.

“I can,” she stops her work for a moment, “Can’t have you messing up the makeup before it sets. Otherwise I’d have to kill you.” Harry can’t be sure if she’s joking or not. Therefore, he was intent on not messing it up.

“Any requests?” She stands at the counter now, instead of seated on a stool working on Harry's left hand.

He shrugs, like he hasn’t got the faintest idea about good music. She refrains from rolling her eyes once again because she feels herself in a test. She wets her lips, sifting through different things in her Spotify and then lands on her playlist titled “it’s your song” named after Elton John’s song. It had some other musicians, a mix of Queen, Bowie, and more and she was sure she would pass the test.

She presses shuffle and She’s Always A Woman by Billy Joel begins to play over her laptop. Harry nods pleased and she wants to shake her head at him.

She can’t hold back the scoff though after a moment of going back to finishing his hand.

“What?” His British accent thickens with his annoyance growing.

“Nothing,” she chirps, intently putting the final touches on his wrist.

“Seriously. What?”

She stands and sets down the makeup. “Can you unbutton your shirt?” She made a note to herself that from now on she’d have to have him take his shirt off before setting to work because if his hands got messed up she’d have to start over. Thankfully he was already wearing a button up this morning.

He stares at her, offering no movement, just inquisitively waiting for her to respond to his original question.

She shuts her eyes, taking another deep breath and then bites at her lower lip. “It’s just...you’re so easy to read.” She fears adding anything else and moves towards him with the makeup hoping to encourage him to unbutton his shirt.

His right hand deftly pulls at the buttons as he regards her. His eyes are intent on her, she can see him clearly calculating her. Her green paisley button up tucked up into the back of her bra leaving a splay of her stomach. The semi-balloon sleeves cinched at the wrists leading to her slightly ringed hands. The oversized blue jeans that have no holes, just a tiny patch right next to the left pocket. The frayed ends of the pants laying over her rather pristine white old skool vans.

The Boxer fades in as she waits for him to finish the unbuttoning of the shirt. He’s still staring at her.

“Am I?” He finally inquires, voice pitched higher like he doesn’t believe her.

She gives him a serious stare and leans over him and adjusts the collar of his shirt. She adds paper towels to avoid makeup on his clothes.

“Yes!” She laughs, “And you don’t even think so, which is like...of course.”

He hums, tilting his head back as she sets to work on covering up the swallows. He wiggles his hands that now both rest on the arm chairs.

“I don’t see it.”

“Of course you don’t,” she glances at his face, their eyes meeting for a moment. “You’re Harry Styles. Everyone is in love with this image you created for yourself and it has just enough of your true self that people feel like they really know you, but you also maintain the illusion. So you think you’re this mysteriously amazing, not like the rest guy, but you are just like the rest of them. Obsessed with yourself and rich so you’re deemed eccentric rather than crazy for all the extravagant shit you do. So when you want me to play music and don’t offer any suggestions I know exactly what music I need to play for you to like me.”

“I feel like that last part says more about you than it does me,” he quirks a brow at her, straining his neck to look at her face as she continues to work.

She flushes, his response both better and worse than she expected. She had gotten a little carried away in her response and she had no idea why. She truly wasn’t one to go off on people so easily and especially not with someone she hardly knew, but something about Harry had her on edge. She was just thankful he hadn’t gotten mad at her response, instead he took it in stride. Further proving her point that he was extremely smart and did things purposefully and she saw right through it all.

She grumbles, “It says that all anyone has to do to get close to you is understand the smallest bit about you and you’ll let them in.”

“That is just so completely wrong, Y/N, I hate to break it to you.” It’s Harry rolling his eyes now, unable to move much more of his body as she continues painting on the concealer to remove his tattoos for the movie.

“Fine. Enlighten me on what I got wrong.”

Their argument had all but drowned out their music. They both did love this music and ironically if they would just shut their mouths, they’d probably like each other a lot more.

“Might as well,” he sighs. “First of all, my image is authentic and of course I don’t want to give myself all away. I enjoy my privacy and for everyone to truly know me I’d have to give that up. Which I’m not keen on. So, I regret to inform you but I am the same guy everyone is “in love with”. Second, I know I am a little self-involved, how else would I get here if I wasn’t constantly taking inventory of myself and reevaluating who I am. As a musician, I want to give as much of myself as possible or else it just feels inauthentic. And the extravagant thing, I can’t help that I like nice things and my job has allowed me to afford those things.”

He stops to take a deep breath and she’s working in stunned silence, in disbelief that Harry is even telling her any of this or that he’s spoken that much and so quickly. Wasn’t he notorious for speaking slowly with barely even a sentence worth of actual information. He sounds tired and frustrated, but also, surprisingly, sincere.

He continues, “The music thing. Maybe it was a test, but still it doesn’t mean I give everyone a mile when they say their favorite musicians match up with mine or something. I note that they either did their homework or might be an interesting person to get to know.”

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

“Obviously the second even if you’re also making it painfully clear that you don’t like me.”

“You’re smarter than I thought, Harry. I’ll give you that,” she smirks slyly, finishing up the bird coverage now.

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

“And I admit that maybe you aren’t as easy to read as I made out, but I think we’re going to have to agree to disagree about the whole being your authentic self. I just don’t buy it. I can see your mind working constantly, you’re not one to just let yourself be free in public. And I’m not saying that’s a bad thing, I’m just saying, you shouldn’t pretend like that’s not what you’re doing.”

Her final thought leaves Harry silent. She pays no attention to his silence or at least she’s actively ignoring it. Instead she tunes back into the music that had gotten them back onto the wrong foot. This was going to be a long few months.

When she’s satisfied with her work, she has them sit there for thirty minutes to give it all time to set before Harry is off to hair and other makeup. They sit there listening to music. Neither of them have spoken again, except instructions from her and Harry’s hums of approval of songs.

Harry stands up after thirty minutes as she stays behind to pack up some items. Just as he’s about to step out of the door, he turns and calls her name.

“For the record, I don’t think you’re giving me a fair shot. You said yourself that you’re different every day. That every version of you, is you. So I hope you’ll give me the same allowance, every version of me is me. In this trailer, in my music videos, on tv, in interviews, in my free time. It’s all truly me.”

She bites her inner cheek as he ducks his head and exits the trailer, not allowing her any response.

“You’re late!”

“Meeting ran over with Nick and Olivia. Sorry,” Harry says as he begins to undress.

It’s the first day she has to cover all of his tattoos. It was going to take forever by all accounts. It had been two weeks since shooting had begun and she had gotten the simple hands and neck down to 45 minutes so she could only dread what his entire body would take.

“It’s fine,” she grumbles, knowing there wasn’t really anything else she could say about him coming late from a meeting with the director and producer.

Over the last two weeks, they hadn’t grown any fonder of one another. Not at all. They at least had gotten into a system though and she was grateful for that at least.

They showed up, Harry got in his chair, she set up the music, and they got to work. Harry would practice lines on some days and he’d tell her that before she turned on the music so there were no interruptions. Sometimes they talked about stuff on set or music or she’d give Harry his line when he was trying to be off script and forgot one. She wouldn’t classify it as pleasant, but they weren’t at each other throats like they were originally.

Trailer 6 had gotten a little homier as the weeks went by, too. Harry began leaving some of his stuff there and he started putting up silly drawings he would make while on set or polaroids people had taken with him while he was there. He tacked up napkins of restaurants that catered the set and wrote funny jokes and quotes on post it notes. His personal assistants sometimes brought in snacks while Y/N was still working and Harry always offered her some. They were usually healthy, but sometimes she’d eat some. Jeff, his manager, had also stopped by on occasion during his tattoo touch-ups that had become a thing after shooting days had grown longer.

On first meeting, Jeff had said, “Y/N? Harry mentioned you.”

She had turned to Harry with an arched brow and he had shrugged. When she looked back at Jeff she didn’t see Harry give Jeff one of the deadliest looks he could muster. She had grimaced and said “Well we spend enough time together for him to know my name. So thank god for that at least.”

They had all laughed and she had gotten back to work on Harry’s wrist.

Today, she needed Harry in his shorts. It was the first day of shooting where his character would be only in his boxers so she had to cover up all his visible tattoos. Olivia had told the makeup department they actually had to cover up his feet tattoos as well. She wanted him sockless in the scene and Y/N had groaned immediately when she made it to the trailer and Harry wasn’t already there.

“But please, for the sake of my job, strip, dude.” She says, arms crossed over her chest and leaning against the counter as she watched Harry set his things down. Her soft green striped cardigan is open, exposing the white tank top sitting underneath. Her bright green shorts hang loose on her, cinched at the waist and folded over once. Her white high top nike’s tap impatiently on the floor, waiting for Harry to get moving.

He nodded, truly feeling sorry for his tardiness, knowing today was a long day. He was anxious and tired. Acting was a different experience to music and he just was really trying his best.

As he began to take off his shirt, he laughed. His arms pulled the shirt over his head and when it popped out from beneath it, he repeated, “Strip, dude,” attempting to mimic her American accent.

He had practiced his American accent in front of her while running lines, but it had a 50’s drawl to it. His acting coach had been drilling him for weeks before shooting and he still liked to practice. The accent he had just down was far off from that and far off from hers too.

“Do not,” she warned.

“What?” He asks innocently and flutters his eyelashes.

She knows his game by now and she knows she should just ignore him. She knows this after fourteen days. She knows this after hours with him. She knows this, but then she’s opening her mouth and playing into his teases.

“Sorry, what’s a word you would know? Mate?” She tries for a British accent with the last word, knowing she can’t win this.

Harry snickers and scratches at his nose with his index finger before starting on taking off his pants. “You’re so Californian.”

“Thank you,” she chirps, moving to sit beside him now that he had settled.

“I like your shorts,” he muses, crossing his legs, likely a little cold.

She glances down at her cotton shorts that showed more of her thighs when she sat for a moment before returning her gaze to his left arm. The longest task of the day was this damn arm.

“Thanks,” she mumbles, “Wanted to be comfortable today. Knew it was gonna be long.”

A smile bubbles onto his face, his pink lips parting to reveal his shiny white teeth behind them. “So true.”

The music is low today. She had chosen Joni Mitchel’s Blue album for the first pick of the day. She had quickly learned Harry preferred listening to albums in order. It tended to make him less jumpy when the same artist came on multiple times like an album. So when she tried to play just an album one day, she found him more cooperative and less irritable.

After thirty minutes of work, she can’t stop noticing how shivery Harry is. It was late October in LA, so it was still warm, but admittedly the mornings could be a little chilly. His shivering was concerning for many reasons. Mainly he was messing up her work and concentration, but she also didn’t want him to get sick or something.

“Do you want me to see if they have a blanket and slippers or something? You look like you’re turning blue.”

Harry turns his attention to her. He had been reading over the script for today again. “That’d be great. I can call…” He trails off trying to think of the name of one of his assistants, but apparently he’s too scatterbrained for it. She assumed it was the hypothermia traveling to his brain already.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll walkie someone.” She says as she grabs the walkie talkie, flicking to the personal assistants channel.

“Hey,” she chirps happily. Harry noted how she talked to other people. So sweet, yet sincere. With him, it was serious and sincere but more biting, callous at times. Less so lately, but she definitely was sharper with him. He didn’t know if it even bothered him anymore. She was engaging if nothing else.

“Is someone free to bring two blankets and men’s slippers over to Trailer 6? I’ve got a naked Jack and I don’t want him freezing before I’m done covering up his tattoos.” She takes her finger off the talking button and glances sideways at him, “Who knows, maybe that would improve his acting. Y’know on second-thought-”

“Alright, alright,” Harry tries to grab for the walkie talkie, but she turns from him holding a finger up signalling him to wait as she listens for a response.

Someone says a simple “On it” and she turns off the walkie talkie and gets back to work.

“I took my finger off the speaker before I said the thing about your acting. Relax, Harry.” She says when he’s still glaring at her. “Just love to see you squirm.”

He shakes out his short chestnut hair, some of it falling over his forehead. Instinctively, she reaches up without even looking and smooths it back. Like she was tucking her own hair out of her eyes, but instead it was Harry’s. She decided to say nothing and was relieved when Harry didn’t say anything either.

She finishes his forearm and moves to his outer upper arm. The rose holds her attention when the PA knocks on the door and she has to race to get it. Nothing could stop her from moving on this work. It was already an hour in and she wanted to scream.

She swings open the door and she wants to die. It was Autumn. Her least favorite PA, of course. She was insufferable and obsessed with Harry. Which was not why Y/N found Autumn insufferable. There were so many more reasons. So many. But that particular character flaw didn’t help her case either. Y/N tried to just take the blankets and slippers from Autumn, but the woman insisted that she come in.

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

“No, don’t want you to get makeup on anything,” Autumn’s saccharine voice grinds at her ears and she contemplates cutting them off.

Harry sat in his chair, legs crossed, nodding along to the music, his script discarded on the counter in front of him.

“Hi Harry!” Autumn practically yells, walking right up to him.

Y/N takes a deep breath at the door, letting it swing shut. She bites her lower lip as an attempt to bite her tongue as she walks back to her set-up. The set-up Autumn was conveniently blocking.

“Hello, Autumn,” Harry says kindly, making eye contact with her. “How’re you today?”

“So great! So great! Thanks for asking. How are you?” She points a finger at him like she might poke him and Harry squirms away from her a bit. She, of course, doesn’t notice this.

“Well, thanks.” His eyes flicker to Y/N, who is standing behind Autumn, hands on her hips and attempting not to tap her foot. His tone is clearly dismissive, but Autumn must ignore it. Y/N knows Autumn isn’t as helpless as she tries to come off.

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,�� she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #enemies to lovers #dwd!harry #idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk #pls leave feedback and reblog

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reidsnose · 3 years

Text

Neighborly

overview: spencer has a new upstairs neighbor who arrives at the same time as the BAUs newest agent

genre: fluff

a/n: this one isnt very romantic but i think its cuteee and could definitely maybe have a part two or something if yall want so lmk what you think :)

masterlist

Spencer could not stand his new upstairs neighbor.

she had moved in a few months ago. he had never met her (he assumed she was a girl based on the fall of her footsteps and the music she would sometimes blast) but she always seemed to be up when he was getting home from a case. infact, she was always home when he was and she paid absolutely no heed to her downstairs neighbor when she was walking around at 2 in the morning. not that Spencer could sleep anyway, but if he could, it would be exponentially more annoying.

he assumed she was some sort of first responder, maybe a nurse or doctor, because she had incredibly weird hours. or maybe she had no job, or worked from home. after all, he had never seen her and he had no proof of whether she was home when he was not.

he would come to work and occasionally complain to the team about her, how she was walking around and keeping him up.

"why don't you knock on her door and ask her to stop? thats what i would do but all my neighbors are quiet as a mouse." you offered, spinning nonchalantly on your chair one morning.

"yeah newbie is right. just ask her." morgan agreed.

"i cant do that! that would be rude." Spencer shook his head as he spoke.

you laughed, "think of it as being neighborly."

"i dont think telling someone theyre bothering you is very neighborly." he chuckled.

"bake her a cake that says 'kindly shut the hell up' in icing."

"i cant bake!" he whined

you laughed, ruffling his hair, "i dont know what to tell you. just suffer i guess."

he groaned, stifling a smile at the obscurity of your sentence. or maybe at the entire essence of your being. you could always make him smile, and that was a difficult thing to do. you had only been welcomed to the team a few months ago but in a matter of days he decided he probably liked you best on the whole team.

you definitely felt the same about him.

after some regular banter, everyone got to work, filling out and organizing old case files. paperwork days were a breeze for Spencer, almost therapeutic. writing up a report on a case and then being done with it, never having to think about it again after that.

you were breezing through work today as well, wanting to get home as soon as you possibly could. there was a new episode of your favorite show airing tonight and you did not want to miss it. and you had another reason.

theres is a rumor in your building about an elusive man that lives in the apartment below yours. all the old women on your floor always talk about him to you. they said he's rarely home, and when he is, you wouldn't know the difference. but he's very kind, often rushing to help them up the stairs or with groceries. and apparently, you always just miss each other by a matter of minutes.

so you've been trying to arrive home at different times, switching it up by a matter of minutes. but so far that hasn't worked.

when the clock struck 5pm you were ready to practically run out of the doors of the bullpen, excited to finally be on time to watch your show and maybe hopefully run into mystery man.

the team sent you confused glances as you rushed to stuff your belongings into your bag.

"my show!" is all you said explanation, as you slung your bag across your shoulder and speed walked out of the building, "bye guys!"

"she is something," prentiss chuckled after you left, sitting on the corner of your now empty desk.

"how does she have all that energy?" morgan laughed, shaking his head slightly.

"she takes her coffee/tea [ur coffee/tea order]. and she naps all the time." spencer's responded eyes glued to his computer screen. all eyes were now on him and his vast knowledge about you. he looked up and felt his face flush, "i- i think." he looked back at his computer in attempt to hide his embarrassment, "or maybe she just doesn't have an annoying upstairs neighbor keeping her up."

a couple of snickers followed as they dispersed back to their seats and began getting ready to go home as well. Spencer thought about his neighbor, wondering if he hurried home, maybe she wouldn't be there yet.

so he packed up and began heading out, hopping on the train and wondering if his hypothesis would be correct.

it wasn't.

when he got home he heard the rhythmic stomping of his upstairs neighbor dancing. he rolled his eyes; she was dancing to some short song that was likely the intro to a tv show. he sighed. there was no point in complaining now, it wasn't late at night and she turned down her tv volume once the song was done.

he collapsed exhausted on the couch, turning on some quiet piano as his eyes drooped closed.

your show finished after an hour and you started getting a little sleepy so you decided to take a nap on your couch.

you weren't sure how much time had passed but you woke up on the floor, your hip aching. you had fallen off of your couch in your sleep. you groaned as you sat up.

Spencer jolted awake at the sudden thud from upstairs, his eyes shooting open and his heart racing. he wasn't sure if he was more annoyed at the fact that she woke him up, or how she woke him up. but he felt bad, it sounded like a person falling. was she ok? what if she was hurt and he was sat here rolling his eyes about it? it was very late, his clock read 1:34am.

he was curious to meet her finally...and maybe going upstairs would make her more conscious and considerate of her poor, tired downstairs neighbor.

should he check on her?

you were startled by the knock at your door, glancing over at the clock and seeing how late it was. you cursed yourself for putting an obnoxious wreath on your door because it was covering your peep hole. you grabbed a baseball bat that you kept hidden under your table.

just as Spencer was about to walk away, the door opened and his eyes gazed up from the floor to finally see the face of his insufferable upstairs neighbor.

"Spencer? are you alright? come in. what are you doing at my house in the middle of the night?" you chuckled, tossing the baseball bat aside.

"no way.." he breathed in utter disbelief, looking around for a roommate that could be the one making all the noise.

"um...what?" you furrowed your eyebrows.

his mind moving a mile a minute and suddenly it all made sense. the music was the same as what you played in the car because it was your playlist. the steps were obviously female because they were yours that he'd often heard echo around the office. and you had never crossed paths because he took the train, and you took your car, so you would never leave at the same time. and you were always home when he was because you'd come back from cases at weird hours.

"i should have baked you a cake," he said finally breaking the silence.

you let out a confused laugh, "why?"

"so i could write 'kindly shut the hell up' on it with icing." he laughed as your eyes widened as your brain connected the dots.

"IM THE ANNOYING UPSTAIRS NEIGHBOR?!" your hand flew to cover your mouth, embarrassed at your volume level this late at night.

"i cant believe i didn't connect the dots!" he laughed, dumbfounded.

"wait.." your eyes grew impossibly wider, "if i'm you're annoying upstairs neighbor...that makes you mystery man!"

"mystery man?"

"can i explain tomorrow its like ass o'clock in the morning right now."

he laughed, "yes but only because someone woke me up from my nap."

"i was just being neighborly."

"mhm," he hummed.

you were sleepily staring at each other, dopey smiles complimenting the comfortable silence settling in the air. the sudden butterflies erupting in your stomach startled you into breaking the silence.

"goodnight Spencer," you whispered.

"goodnight y/n." he smiled, giving a small wave before heading down the stairs back to his own apartment.

ultra mega super cool taglist:

@mac99martin @imhreid @spencersmagic @hollydaisy23 @raelady1184 @a-broken-pact @padfootswife @hey-there-angels @star-stuff-in-the-cosmos @sonnydoesrandomshit @coffeereid-deactivated20210303 @averyhotchner @laurakirsten0502 @reidyoulikeabook @rem-ariiana @spencerreid9

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid fluff #dr reid #reid #bau #bau x reader #derek morgan #emily prentiss #jennifer jereau #penelope garcia #aaron hotchner #david rossi #criminal minds fanfiction

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hareharrison · 3 years

Text

hold me

pairing: george harrison x reader

summary: george is in the process of finishing abbey road, and has been repeatedly coming home frustrated. instead of talking to you about it, he distances himself completely, and only speaks to you in annoyance or anger, and lashes out on you. he doesn’t know how much it affects you and one day comes home to the effects firsthand.

warnings: hurt/comfort, angst, angy geo, neurodivergent reader, invasive thoughts, mental breakdown/panic attack, but it works out in the end

a/n: hayyyy ok so i wrote this as a comfort fic for myself, and i decided to post it cause why not. i struggle with intense fear of abandonment cause of bpd haha fun 😐and wanted to make it from the POV of a neurodivergent reader?? so this is like a comfort fic for ND readers?? idk if i need to put any other potential trigger warnings for this but if i do please lmk and i will fix it

year: 1969

the flat was quiet without him. to be honest, it was quiet with or without him, lately. as much as you didn’t want to admit it, george had been distant. he was always a quiet person, but he has never dismissed you this much. you knew that his job could be tiring and you tried not to overthink it, but you couldn’t help but feel bad. a voice in your head was planting horrible ideas, saying things like, “you fucked up, he doesn’t like you anymore, you’re annoying.” but still, you pushed on and tried your best to ignore the noise in your brain.

you sigh heavily and slide back into the couch. you had the next two days off of work, and nothing to do. george of course had to work on your days off, which left you alone at home. with your thoughts. it was hard getting through today, your intrusive thoughts were particularly loud... but he would be home any minute now, which brought on a bit of hope; seeing him should rid you of your own jailhoused mind.

the tv played some sitcom in front of you, which you had no interest in. all you could think about was if you ruined things. what if he was thinking of leaving you? it would be your fault... and yet you couldn’t think of a single thing you’ve ever done that might have hurt him.

the door opened gently and let in a cool draft that brushed against your warm skin. you look toward the entrance, seeing your george sigh heavily with exhaustion as he took his shoes and coat off. he looked up to you, his boldly furrowed brows softening.

“hi, love,” he says, walking toward you. you stand and approach him to greet him with a quick kiss. he holds you for a little longer than usual, and you take the opportunity to melt into his arms and breathe in his smell, something you’d been deprived of recently. he rests his chin on top of your head, which laid comfortably on his rising chest. it was moments like this that made all your worries slip away, moments like this that you wished you could cling onto forever and ever.

“how was your day?” you ask, finally leaning back to look up at him. he lets go of you and runs a hand through his long hair.

“not good,” he says, a frown on his perfectly sculpted face. you return his expression at the sight of him being sad. quickly, you remember your dinner ideas. maybe that would cheer him up.

“hey, maybe we can go get something to eat? maybe get your mind off of things?” you suggest, looking up at his brown eyes. he looks down at you, eyes full of regret.

“i’m sorry love, but i’d rather just head to bed already,” he says remorsefully. you smile softly and reassure him that it’s okay and he should get some rest. but part of you breaks inside, knowing he doesn’t want to spend time with you.

he headed upstairs and you followed, the painful ideas returning at full speed.

“you’re so annoying, of course he doesn’t want to spend any time with you. you’re so annoying and clingy,” your brain says and you flinch at the harsh thoughts. through your entire bedtime routine, thoughts flooded your mind and filled your entire being up, and you felt like you were being drowned from the inside out. george stood next to you as you both brushed your teeth, not speaking a single word to you or giving you a single glance. you changed into one of george’s t-shirts and watched as he slid out of his clothes and into his pajamas in seconds. he muttered a monotone, “good night,” before turning on his side, his back facting you.

as much as you didn’t want to, you believed the mean voices and hung your head as you got into bed next to george.

you slept back to back that night.

————————————————————

the sun seeped into your room through your windows, and invaded your bed, waking you rather unpleasantly. you groan lightly as you reached over your bed for george, but only found empty space. his side of the bed was cold, indicating that he’d been up for a while now.

you sit up slowly, rubbing your eyes as the aromas of freshly brewed coffee and morning dew hit your senses. you hear the song of the early birds chirping as your feet hit the cool floor. as you head downstairs, you can hear george on the phone, and you soon see him muttering softly before taking a long drag from his cigarette. you don’t bother him, seeing that there was paperwork on the table and his call must be business related. naturally, you decide to head for the coffee, the smell luring you in like a fish.

you poured the hot, dark liquid into your favorite mug and add in your preferred amounts of cream and sugar. looking out the window, you see water drip gently from the leaves of a tree that george and you had planted a year ago. you sip your coffee and reminisce about the times you used to actually spend time with george. how nice it was, seeing him smile so often.

you suddenly hear george raise his voice at the phone, something unlike him entirely. you jump at the unpleasant sound before peeking through the hallway to see what on earth was happening.

“no, i don’t care! i want the bloody bastard fired, in fact, tell him not to bother showing up today,” he shouts into the phone before slamming it down, placing his head between his knees and groaning in frustration. seeing george this upset and acting out on it was truly a rare sighting, and you thought carefully about what to next.

after careful consideration, you tiptoe into the room and gently rest a hand on his shoulder, the sudden contact making him flinch.

“christ, (y/n) are you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?” he grumbles before lighting another cigarette.

“sorry,” you say softly, “would you like some tea?” you figure it could calm his anger and soothe some of his abnormal irritability.

“what? tea? there’s already coffee made,” he says rudely. you take a step back, saying nothing. you know that you didn’t do anything and that this behavior would pass. george was never like this. your eyes find the time and see that george should have left ten minutes ago.

“george, you’re gonna be late to work,” you say, thinking you could at least do something helpful. his head snaps back at you and his once soft face turned hard with anger.

“what are you implying? you want me gone?” he stands up and angrily grabs all of the papers scattered on the table, shoving them into a folder and the folder into his bag, “fine, i’ll leave. im out the door.”

you look at him in confusion, you’d barely woken up and were just trying to help, “what’s the matter with you?”

“what’s the matter with me,” he repeats, looking away and scoffing. he runs his hand through his hair in frustration, “im sick of this, (y/n)! im sick of life. i come home exhausted and you have half a mind to ask me if i want to talk about it!”

“you always want to go straight to bed,” you defend yourself, hurt that he would even suggest that you don’t care about him. his dark eyes glare into your own for a moment that feels like hours, trying to think of somethig clever to say in response, but he just wasn’t ever much of a fighter. he finally chooses to put his cigarette out on the table’s ashtray and grab his coat. if you wanted him out of the house, he was more than happy to comply.

“george-“ you start.

“no,” he cuts you off, “don’t say anything right now, i can’t even look at you.” and he doesn’t, he ignores your presence entirely as he picks up his bag and walks out the door.

you’re left in the cold house, alone, hurt, and dumbfounded. you couldn’t believe what had just happened. you couldn’t believe that george, your george, had taken his anger out on you, simply for trying to help his morning be less shitty. worse than that, he thought you wanted him gone, when all you wanted was to be with him. is this how it was going to be now? a bitter, loveless relationship? your eyes sting with fresh tears at the thought, and a huge lump in your throat grows painfully. you take a deep breath before heading upstairs. you wanted anything but to cry this early in the morning, and the only reason you got up somewhat early was to see george before he left to work. now that your morning was ruined, you figured heading back to bed was the next best thing.

you climb back into your shared bed, suppressing your emotions with the warmth of your fluffy blankets and soft pillows. the comfort of a bed felt almost like a hug, and you sighed, letting the pain drift away as you fell asleep.

————————————————————

when you opened your eyes, the realization hit you. you’d slept until the sun began to set, completely ignoring your emotions, stuffing them down inside of you like an overflowing trash can. being awake made them fling right back at you; sleeping didn’t change a thing, and was only a temporary pause in your pain.

all of your feelings came back to you at once, and it once again felt like you were drowning internally. only this time, the thoughts weren’t the invasive factor. your emotions were overwhelmingly intense on top of your brain practically screaming horrible things to you. your breathing quickens as you feel tears slide down your face. this time you werent able to swallow the thick lump in your throat, and you began to weep softly.

this was it, george was leaving you. he hates you, he wants nothing to do with you. there was nothing you could do but hug your knees and cry. you choked on a sob and started rocking back and forth in attempts to try to soothe yourself. but you couldn’t stop, it felt like your entire world was falling apart. you soon began to have shortness of breath and struggled with your breathing, feeling your heart beat at an intense rate that you couldn’t control.

your bedroom door opens, revealing george’s early arrival. he immediately rushes to your side, afraid to touch you but wanting so bad to comfort you.

“(y/n)? (y/n), breathe. breathe, baby,” he takes your hand and you look at him. you aren’t sure if him being here is making the situation better or worse. seeing him try to help you stirred all kinds of feelings in your mind. you felt like you weren’t good enough for him, like you didn’t deserve his help.

george begins breathing in through his nose and out of his mouth, gently guiding you and hoping you will try to do the same. he sits in front of you on the bed and holds your face in his gentle hands. you look up into his eyes, the chocolate features of his face soothing you as your breath began to steady.

“that’s it,” he encourages.

“do you hate me?” you cry softly.

“what? no, (y/n), i’d give my life for yours, do you know that? you’re so, very special to me,” he slides over to sit beside you on the bed and wraps his long arms around you.

“why are you so distant?” you look up at him, and tears continue to roll down your flushed cheeks, “you acted so mean to me this morning, i feel like you want nothing to do with me.”

george is hurt by your words. he truly didn’t mean to be distant, and he never wanted to hurt you.

“i’m sorry,” he says, “ive been so overwhelmed i haven’t stopped to think of how you must feel. im really sorry my love i never meant to hurt you like this.” he embraces you tightly and you give into his comforting touch, wrapping your arms around his torso and digging your face into his chest.

you take a deep breath, “i understand,” you say before looking up to him to whisper, “i miss you. i miss us.”

“i miss you too darling,” he pauses for a moment, “how about i take tomorrow off? we can do whatever you’d like.”

you sniffle, “what about the album? the deadline?”

“i can fake sick. nothing is more important to me than you,” he says, “i want nothing more than to be with you. i love you so much.”

you smile when he presses a soft kiss to your aching head, “now how about we go have something to eat? i’m starved.”

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sakusasbunny · 3 years

Text

𝐟𝐢𝐱 𝐲𝐨𝐮.

“You’d always been such a troubled girl, haven’t you? Don’t worry, nii-chan will fix you”

pairing: sakusa x reader

cw: incest, spanking, degradation, manipulation, toxic relationship, dacryphilia, gaslighting (lmk if there’s anything i missed)

wc: ~1.6 k

a/n: i just wanted to say thank you so much again for 500+ followers!!! it means a lot, ily! (repost bc tumblr’s a bitch and didn’t show me in tags :))

m.list

“N-no! Stop I-” you struggled against Sakusa’s grasp, his big hands wrapping around your waist and bending you over his knee. Your cries were muffled as he shoved you into the couch. One hand restrained your arms behind your back as the other hiked your skirt up, bunching the material around your waist to reveal the cotton of your underwear.

“P-please, nii-chan, I didn’t mean to. I’m sor-”

You couldn’t even finish your sentence as a heavy hand cracked down on your ass. Tears brimmed your eyes as a scream tore through your throat.

Sounds of your cries echoed around the room as one excruciating slap after another was delivered to your ass, pushing your face further into the couch.

“Ngh… Nii-chan…” your voice came out meekly, “No more, please… It hurts.”

“Does it now?” Sakusa’s large hand gently caressed the curve of your ass, soothing the soft flesh red from impact. “You should have thought of that before acting like such-” smack “a fucking-” smack “brat.” smack.

Inarticulate pleas forced its way out of your mouth, begging him to stop. Fat droplets of tears streamed down your face. You could do nothing else but cry out in pain as you took your punishment.

It was simple, really. All you had to do was follow his house rules while you stayed in his apartment. Cleaning, making dinner, doting on him after a stressful day at work. It was all so simple. Perhaps he’d overestimated you; after all, you were still just his dumb little sister. Nothing had changed since you were kids—he's convinced himself—he would still have to look after you.

However, this was no longer acceptable. You weren’t kids anymore. Sooner or later, you’d have to learn your responsibilities to him.

Broken whimpers filled every corner of the room. Every strike was harder than the last.

“It won’t happen again, please…” you promised.

“How can I believe you, hm? You’ve been nothing but a brat since you got here,” He palmed your ass, the cool rings on his fingers soothing your burning skin, “This is the only way you’ll learn. You trust your nii-chan, don’t you?”

You faltered in your response—and that was enough for him to crack his hands across your already tender skin, forcing a strained whimper into the couch beneath you.

Trembling breaths left your lips as you tried to keep yourself from groaning at the stinging pain crawling up your spine.

It’s too much, you thought, this is all too much.

“Your hesitation,” you could feel the warm puff of his breath on the shell of your ear as he leaned in dangerously close to you, “tells me everything I need to know. Now, get up.”

Sakusa freed your wrists from his grasp and you struggled to push yourself up, your arms too sore and numb from being restrained to hold up any sort of weight. He watched as you brought yourself up on two shaky legs, presenting yourself in front of him.

It was embarrassing.

His narrowed eyes trailed down and examined your body. Your blouse, which had been neatly tucked into your skirt, was now wrinkled and disheveled as you lunged forward on the couch. Red abrasions bloomed across the supple skin of your face, a semi-permanent blush adorning your cheeks. The fabric of the couch had been too rough as your skin brushed against it.

Sakusa pushed himself off his spot on the couch and made his way towards you.

You flinched as he raised a hand, preparing for the impact that never came. Instead, a gentle hand cupped your face and rubbed soothing circles at the irritated skin of your cheeks. It felt nice. You’d all but forgotten how delicate he could be, nuzzling into his palm as you accepted his small embrace.

It didn’t last, however, as his hand dropped back down to his side. Only the ghost of his touch lingered on your skin before fading into the cold.

“After all I’ve done for you, is this how you repay me, hm? After I welcome you into my home with open arms, could you not follow such simple instructions that even a trained dog could do them?”

His words were harsh, nothing like the hand that previously caressed your cheek. Each word that left his lips cut deeper than the last.

It was a feeling you were unfamiliar with—one so painful that it overshadowed the stinging pain from when he had pinned you down and abused your soft skin. The ache had already faded to a dull throb.

You felt the crushing weight of the atmosphere around you. His disappointment was apparent and it felt unbearable as his dark eyes peered at you, radiating uncompromising scrutiny. Your head hung low in shame in a fruitless effort to avoid his fixed gaze. The only thing you could do was watch your tears as they fell to the floor.

“I really shouldn’t even bother with you anymore,” Sakusa let out an exasperated sigh, “What’s the point in keeping someone around who’s absolutely useless to me?”

That was the final blow to your fragile stage.

Your head shot up and even more tears clouded your vision.

No, no, no, no, no. He couldn’t do this to you. He can’t just leave you all by yourself. You needed him! You were nothing without him. You would mean nothing without him.

He had been your entire world, you realized. You always thought it was his world that revolved around you, an unshakeable presence that never strayed far, but as he tried to rip himself out of your life, you discovered that you’d been wrong.

You had always needed him. You jumped into his arms with every good news you received, in an obvious plea for his approval. You ran into his arms with every problem that faced you knowing that he was the only one who could bring you any meaningful comfort. He’d kiss you so sweetly, lay you down, and make it go away. Bring you pleasure that you were sure no other man but your brother could give you. No one knew you like he did.

You would always be the one to seek him out.

You dropped to your knees and clung to his legs as hysterical cries erupted from your mouth.

“N-nii-san, ple-please, you can’t. Please don’t do this to me.” You pleaded as you looked up at him with bleary eyes. Tears stained his pant legs as you pressed the side of your face to his thighs, clutching at the fabric with desperate hands.

“I-I’ll do anything! I’ll be good for you, I pr- I promise,” Your words came out frantic as you spoke in between hiccups, “Just please don’t leave me, please, please, please. I need you!”

Sakusa felt his heart clench as you begged for him. Of course, he had no real intention of leaving you but he thoroughly enjoyed seeing how miserable you had been at the thought.

He almost felt bad, really, he did. But that didn’t stop the glimmer of amusement that hid behind his hardened gaze or the cruel smile that spread across his face. He watched as you nuzzled your face into the fabric of his pants, clinging onto him for dear life. So afraid that if you loosened your grip for just a little bit that he’d disappear from your grasp.

He enjoyed how much you seemed to idolize him. It may have been a cruel ploy, using your love for him as a means to bend your will, but he believed it to be necessary. It was just as you said, you needed him. He just wanted to help you realize it.

You’d been defying him too much recently. First, talking back to him, and lately, refusing to follow his orders, even ignoring a curfew he’d set out for you. He had received a phone call from you at an ungodly hour one night, too drunk to even form a sentence and that had been the last straw. What if something had happened to you? He couldn’t have that. Not to his precious little sister, no.

But he couldn’t really put all the blame on you. You were only a product of your environment. Your parents had always been too lenient on you. His father and mother had spoiled you rotten, never really disciplining you and only ever throwing money at all of your problems instead of teaching you how to fix them. He supposed he had them to thank for making you all too dependent on him but he needed you to be obedient for him.

So he’d decided to take it upon himself to teach you.

Did you not see? Everything he did for you was out of pure love! Did you think he wanted to hurt you? To hear your pretty screams as he held you down and spanked you? He took no pleasure in punishing you. No… All he wanted was for you to be safe with him. And what’s a better way to show you than cutting you off? Convincing you that you needed him, that you couldn’t live without him?

He threaded his fingers through your hair as he brushed the strands away from your face. Caressing your cheek with his thumb, he gently motioned for you to look up at him.

Long trails of black stained your flushed cheeks as your mascara ran down your face. He loved seeing you like this. Big, innocent eyes looking up at him, glazed over with adoration only a sister can have for her big brother. So desperate. So needy. So ruined. And all for him. Only for him.

Sakusa wanted to keep you like this forever.

“You’d always been such a troubled girl haven’t you?” It was a rhetorical question, one that he’d already known the answer to, but you nodded eagerly anyway, ecstatic at the soft tone he’s taken with you.

“Don’t worry, nii-chan will fix you.”

#❣️dark content #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu smut #haikyuu sakusa #hq x reader #hq smut #hq sakusa #kiyoomi sakusa #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa kiyoomi x reader #sakusa x reader #— my works

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jincherie · 4 years

Text

lunacy | 01

☽ ● | members: seokjin x reader x jungkook ☽ ● | genre: poly, wolf au, mates au, college au, urban fantasy, angst, smut ☽ ● | wc: 10.7k+ ☽ ● | warnings: none in particular in this part! ☽ ● | notes: here is the first part ! I think this one is going to end up being one of the longer series, so pls send me an ask and lmk what kind of tropes/scenarios u love to see in wolf aus! i wanna make this as self indulgent as possible LMFAO

The entirety of your introduction and exposure to wolves has been at the hands of Jimin and Taehyung, who over the course of your study have arguably become your best friends. It isn't until they drag you to a party held at their packhouse that you meet the rest of their pack, though-- and once you do, thing's already aren't the same as they were before;...

Wolves mate for life, and wolves are almost exclusively monogamous. It's rare for a wolf to have a human mate, and even more unheard of for a wolf to have more than one mate. Unfortunately for you, an incident at this party lands you in the middle of every exception there could possibly be.

— posted; 09.09.2020 | prologue ● next▸

The air is crisp and the plants coloured cool around you, but you're not cold.

You recognise this clearing you're in, but not from the waking world. No, you recognise it because just as it is right now, it has been the set of your dreamscape before. So it's familiar, as you gaze upon it, but at the same time something tingles under your skin in anticipation of the unknown that the shadows hold just beyond the treeline.

It must be early morning, you think to yourself, as you allow your gaze to slip to the sky. It's just fading out of the darkened caress of the night as you look upon it, tinting lighter with each breath you take. You love mornings, you recall with familiarity-- you especially love mornings like this.

There's a slight mist in the air. You don't notice it until you direct you gaze back down to the dewy earth, eyes captured by each patch of wildflowers and blotch of colour. It feels almost magical, really, but for some reason... that isn't the tone of this moment.

You don't know what it is, but something curls in your stomach a little like anticipation. What are you waiting for? You know you've seen this place before, but you can't remember when, or why...

At some point you've taken a seat in the meadow, and while a part of you expects dampness to seep into your skin, you remain safe and dry. It's comfortable. This is the nicest dream you've ever dreamt, a distant part of you surmises. You're just running your hands through the silky blades of grass and watching the dewdrops collect on your skin when a soft snap sounds far to your left.

You probably should be alarmed, but when you look up it's only in curiosity. What you see, again, should be cause for alarm-- but for some reason, the sight of the great, hulking wolf lingering at the edge of the treeline doesn't cause you anything but a flutter in your stomach.

It's not alone, you notice a moment later as something emerges from the shadows beyond it. There are two of them, both massive but one of them a little bigger than the other-- it is leaner and its limbs are longer, though, while the shorter one is thicker in its form, each limb corded with muscle.

For a moment they stare at you, and when you catch the golden hue of their eyes that gleams a little too bright to be natural, you realise they're not normal. Of course, within the walls of this dream you take it in stride.

The way they hover all the way over the other side of the meadow is almost... hesitant. You tilt your head, watching as they stay calmly in place. When you speak it's without even thinking, but you're not bothered by what comes out.

"You can come over here, you know?" you say, offering them a smile. How cool will it be if you can manage to make friends with two wolves! Regardless of their unnatural size and stature, and, now that you think about it, their colouring...

The first to move is the bigger one, its coat a gorgeous mix of sand and caramel, with streaks of white marking around its eyes and ears, as well as fitting around its front paws like boots. You'd noticed that he was a little leaner than the other earlier, but you're realising now as you watch him advance slowly that that doesn't mean he's any weaker. Each stride he takes makes dense muscle shift beneath his skin and fur, and you're slightly in awe of the power contained in his limbs as he moves.

The other wolf is no less magnificent to behold-- its fur is a curious blend of charcoal and ink, speckled with streaks and patches of dark chestnut that gleam rosy in the sunlight. Its eyes are the same unnatural amber as the other wolf's, but the way that they bore into you are oddly akin to that of a puppy.

You don't move when they come close enough that they're within reach, allowing them to move at their own pace. You're not left waiting long, though, before the smaller one trots closer, hesitation forgotten.

"Oh!" You're taken aback when it leans forward suddenly, shoving its massive, inky head against your shoulder with such strength you almost fall back, were it not for the other wolf flopping down behind you and supporting you with its massive form. Ordinarily you'd be worried you're about to be torn to pieces, especially when faced with its massive maw and large teeth, but when it rubs its head against you with a soft whine sounding from the back of its throat, you know it doesn't mean you any harm.

"Oh, you're a cute one," you murmur distractedly, allowing your hands to rise and sink into its fur. It brushes like silk against your skin, and the wolf is so pleased that it simply flops down against you, resting it's head in your lap and pushing it against your stomach.

Something lights up in you, something warm like you've settled close to the glow of a campfire and the heat is sinking into your bones. You're content, so content, and you don't even know why? But oddly enough, in this moment you're not really bothered by that.

Right as you begin to settle back into the warmth and the rhythmic lull of their breathing as they rest against you, something niggles in the back of your brain-- a shard of familiarity, do you know these wolves? How would you know these wolves?

"Who are you?" you find yourself mumbling tiredly, the world around you beginning to shrink back until your brain is only aware of you and the warmth pressed against you.

The wolf in your lap turns its head so that its large eyes are boring into your own. It's still, tail thumping once against the ground, but something stirs in the back of your brain at his gaze. Recognition that filters like sunlight onto little pieces of information in your brain until they merge into something coherent.

It dawns on you with a soft gasp-- you know them, you do. They're--

x - x - x

"Rise and shine, buttercup! I'm sick of having to silence your alarms for you! If you don't get up this time I can and will take photos of your sleeping face! You know, with your mouth all open and drool on your pillow--"

A groan escapes you that you don't quite recognise as a sound you can make, your eyes cracking open to the sight of your roommate's bright, grinning face very close to your own. The first conscious thought to cross your brain is that she does, in fact, look very punchable right now, bending over just so she can hover her face in front of your own with that shit-eating grin.

"Jihyo go away," you slur, sleep still having a very firm grasp on your brain and vocal cords. You slam your face into the pillow, yanking the duvet over your head. Your peace lasts all of 0.03 seconds before your demon of a roommate yanks the cover almost entirely off your bed, revealing your curled form to the cool air and making you whine.

"Why?" you whine, clutching the dinosaur pillow in your hold closer to your chest. "L'me sleep..."

"Nope, nuh-uh," Jihyo moves over to give you a firm smack on the ass, making you yelp and jerk out of your sleepy haze so harshly that you almost fall off the bed. Ow! "I snoozed your alarm for you five times this morning, buttercup. No more! Get up."

"Jihyo," you whine, giving her an accusing look over your shoulder as you rub your stinging behind. "You didn't even hit me where my skin was covered, you cow."

The girl simply shrugs, hands on her hips as she decides that her work here is done and begins to make her way to the door. "That's on you for wearing shorts to bed in autumn, bub. Anyway, you really do have to get up because it's like, what, nine-thirty? And you have a class at ten, so..."

At first you simply blink, her words ringing in your ears but not really sinking in, until they suddenly do and you're leaping from your bed with a yelp.

"Jihyo!"

She cackles, the absolute madwoman, and promptly exits your room. "Better hurry, buttercup!"

At her departure you fly into a panicked rush to get ready, darting around your room and grabbing things at the speed of light. You don't have time to dwell on the contents of the dream you'd been having before you were so rudely awoken, and as you fling yourself around your apartment the remaining slivers you remember of it slip from your brain and out of your grasp until the next time.

x - x - x

Regrettably, all your rushing didn't help you earlier; you still arrived late to class. Your only saving grace is that it was a lecture instead of an actual class, and the professor had been playing a video for the cohort when you arrived and so the lights had been conveniently dimmed for you to slip right in to the back unnoticed.

It actually ended only a few minutes ago, and now you find yourself walking distractedly on the way to your next class, mind lost in all the thoughts you didn't have time to entertain this morning. Fleetingly, the dream flicks through your mind-- what's left in your memory of it, anyway. You can barely conjure any of the details, or even what the two wolves looked like in whole, but the feeling it left behind lingers still in the pit of your abdomen.

You don't understand it. You've been having this dream almost every night for the past week, aside from the nights where you got too little sleep to remember your dreams. Ever since that night when Taehyung and Jimin dragged you to their packhouse, each night has greeted you with the same dream of two wolves in some meadow and you don't know why. Were they that impressionable? Were you so wowed by the sight of the wolves racing that you committed it to your memory subconsciously? Maybe… it’s a possible reason, but it doesn't feel like the reason.

It started as something small, but as the week progressed there was something, a feeling, a sensation, that grew inside you until it stirred restlessly beneath your skin, like now. You're not sure what it is. You feel like you need to be on the move, like there's somewhere you need to be, or you're forgetting something. But you've checked, and you haven't forgotten something, there's nowhere else you're meant to be. So this feeling stirring around your navel... you don't know what to do about it.

Then again, you ponder as you approach the building that holds your next class, perhaps it's just the weird feeling the dreams have been leaving you with that has been making you feel so odd and on edge.

When you enter, your attention is surprisingly not immediately captured by two particular loud men as it usually is the second you step foot in the room. Thanks to their annoyingly sharp senses, the two of them can usually smell you coming before you even reach the door. Admittedly, you're not sure if you're ever going to get used to being told that you have a smell, even if it's not in the usual insulting way. Something you're just going to have to get used to, though, considering you attend a university alongside many supernaturals, two of which are some of your closest friends.

Despite the fact that you weren't accosted upon entry this time, unlike how you usually are, the two boys you begrudgingly call friends are here, seated towards the back of the room. You wonder what stopped them from performing their usual ritual of behaviour as you approach them, but the answer comes to you when you see the light frowns on their faces and the slight bags under their eyes.

"Woah," you remark, taking a seat at the rounded table next to Jimin-- they start slightly at your appearance, ringing some alarm bells in the back of your mind. "You two look like shit. Are you okay?"

Taehyung makes a face, and Jimin gives you a smile that comes out more like a wince.

"We're fine," he says, reaching up to scrub his face with a hand. "Just... a little tired."

You tilt you head, wondering if they're going to tell you why of their own accord or if you're going to have to dig and drag it out of them. Taehyung must recognise the look on your face, because he's letting out a little huff of a laugh and enlightening you in the next moment.

"It's just... some of the members of our pack," he says, yawning. Your mouth falls open in realisation; ah, so it's a wolf thing. You're even more curious now, though. You love learning more about the creatures that walk among the population— plus, they're your friends so you feel like you should learn as much as you can about them.

"Are they causing trouble?" you ask, remembering the events of the other night with an odd shiver that isn't quite anything you can name.

Both males let out a laugh, quietening only as the tutor enters the room and lets out a greeting. Today's class isn't too interactive though, and for the majority of it you're left to your own devices to complete work at your own pace. As soon as the tutor is done telling you all the agenda, Jimin is speaking quietly from next to you.

"It's not that they're causing trouble," he says, tone soft and airy. You like his voice a lot, Taehyung's too— actually, from what you can remember, every single member of the pack had a nice voice. Is it a werewolf requirement or something? Jimin's dark eyes flit from the teacher to you, mouth twisting as though he's trying to figure out how to word what he wants to say next. "It's just that..."

"You know a little bit about wolves, and the hierarchy that runs in packs, right?" Taehyung continues in Jimin's place, blinking at you. You nod, holding your hand up to gesture that your knowledge is so-so at best. "Well, within a pack there are the usual ones you've probably heard-- the alpha, the betas, omegas."

"Ah, yeah, I've heard about that," you say, unable to help the way you lean forward in interest. Taehyung smiles wryly.

"Well, there's a little more to it than that. In our pack, Jiminie and I are deltas," he hums gaze flicking upwards as he ponders how to proceed. "So our role, when we fall back into our dynamics, is largely watching territory, but it also includes taking care of ill and wounded members of the pack."

"Two of the members are sick," Jimin says, turning to you a split second later. "The two that bowled you over, actually."

"Oh," you say, recalling the handsome faces of the two wolves that had inadvertently caused your drink to end up on you and you on the ground that night. "So, they're sick and you've been looking after them? So you're tired? They should be okay though, right? I mean, you're wolves. You bounce back quickly."

The two males share a look before turning back to you, voices still hushed so that you don't draw your tutor over to where the three of you are, most definitely not doing the work assigned.

"That's just the thing, though," Jimin says, a troubled expression crossing his features. "We're wolves, we don't really get sick. The only kind of sickness that gets us is a flu that has mutated from another supernatural creature, but even so... they should have been better by now."

"It's like they just keep slowly getting worse," Taehyung says, frowning. "Jiminie and I are running ourselves into the ground trying to keep up and monitor them. We just can't figure out what's wrong to get on top of it."

"Oh," you say, an unknown feeling welling up inside you. It's something like longing, with a certain twist of urgency. You don't know what drives you to say what you did next. "Well, uh... is there anything I can do to help? You guys look exhausted."

"You wouldn't mind?" Jimin asks, sounding surprised. "Even after the other night? I know it must have been scary."

"Well, I mean, a little bit," you admit, scratching the back of your neck. "But it was also cool as hell. Your wolf forms are so awesome, I kind of wish I got to see it sooner."

"You haven't even seen ours!" Taehyung says, a little louder than intended. When the three of you look up to catch the tutor giving you the stink-eye, you bow your heads and remain silent for a while to get him off your backs.

"For real though," Jimin says a while later, hand still scribbling answers to the activity even as he talks softly. "If you're serious about wanting to help, we'd really appreciate it. The others are all caught up with either schoolwork or other obligations so it's been a little exhausting."

"I don't mind," you say, offering the two a brief smile before going back to pretending to work. "I'm happy to help. Plus... I feel a little bad that I didn't get introduced to them properly, you know?"

Taehyung snorts softly, grinning down at the table. "Yeah, that's true. Thanks, y/n."

You offer him another smile, hoping that they can't sense the way your gut flutters and churns with an unnamed feeling. "Of course."

x - x - x

When you offered to give Taehyung and Jimin a hand with looking after their sick packmates, you were expecting to be making soup or something for them to take over. You weren’t, as it happens, expecting for the two of them to rock up at 6PM while you’re in the middle of a belated cardio workout (which was only happening because you have schoolwork that you were procrastinating at the time) to grab you and drag you back over to their pack dorm to actually, physically help out.

“Why is it every time I come here, I’m always being dragged?” you question, hints of a whine to your voice. They hadn’t even let you change! You’re still in your workout gear, which, granted, consists of just a singlet and tight, ankle-length exercise pants, and isn’t that risqué—but still! The weather is getting colder these days and so are you, right now! If it weren’t for the absolute furnace that is their body temperature and the heat of their hands on your arms, you think you’d be shivering.

“You’ve only been here twice, and this is the second time,” Jimin says dismissively, hand gripping your arm as he leads you up the stairs to their front door. You have a funny feeling in your gut that you can’t quite pin, similar to the last time you were here, but now you don’t even have time to dwell on it before you’re thrown into the pack dorm once more.

It’s much tidier than it was last time.

You’re taken aback by how clean and, well…spacious it is, now that there’s not drunk adolescent bodies crammed everywhere. It’s a very modern layout, as you noticed last time, and tastefully decorated. From what Jimin and Taehyung told you, most of the bedrooms are upstairs and the lowest floor contains most amenities like the kitchen, gym room, etcetera…

The door closes with a resounding thud behind you, and there is a call from beyond the hallway, where you recall the kitchen to be. You don’t think you recognise the voice, though.

“Tae, Jiminie, you’re back!” There is a pause, and something that sounds suspiciously like a sniff. Suddenly, you’re mortified to be the only human here again. “…Who do you have with you?”

Before you’re anywhere near composed enough to be meeting another member of their pack, the two devious bastards are pushing you forwards and around the corner, into the kitchen once more. You have a very sudden, terrible flashback to the last time you were in this kitchen and on instinct you’re scanning the room for a familiar raven-haired male.

To your relief, Yoongi isn’t anywhere to be seen—there is someone at the kitchen counter though, someone that you don’t recognise at all. You freeze, offering a sheepish grin as the two wolves you somehow call your friends hold you in place. Like you could even attempt to get away anyway.

The new figure is taller than Jimin, but not taller than Taehyung. His hair is dark, cherry red, but you can spy some regrowth coming through at the roots, and before you even see the rest of his face you can tell from his eyes and the creases at their ends that this man smiles a lot. You’re proven right when he easily returns the smile you’d flashed him earlier, shooting it at you like a sunbeam. It almost, honest to god, disorients you where you stand.

“Hey Hobi,” Taehyung greets, grinning brightly. “This is y/n, we brought her around at the last party but you were, ah… previously occupied.”

The man before you has the decency to flush slightly, a sheepish grin tugging his lips. You’ve never seen a heart-shaped smile before now, but you’re glad this attractive man was the first one to show you the light.

“Ah… right.” He chuckles, before placing the bowl in his arms onto the counter and offering you a hand. “Sorry to have missed introductions, especially when Tae and Jiminie talk so much about you! I’m Hoseok, but you can call me Hobi, or Hope if you’d like.”

Hope. It clicks together in your head and your own face flushes as you recall last time when they said he, Hope, was off practicing the karma sutra with someone. Mortified that you recalled that tidbit now of all times, you push it from your brain and try to focus on the other things he said.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you say, shaking his hand. You can’t help the way you grumble after though, giving Jimin and Taehyung a glare. “And I hope they haven’t talked too much. Every time I’ve heard them tell one of you about me, it’s always something humiliating.”

“Oh, like being caught watching Ouran Host Club in your lecture?” Hoseok asks, head tilting slightly as he picks the bowl back up. You wince instinctively, and he laughs. It doesn’t get any less humiliating every time you hear it.

“Yup,” you say, feeling very much like you wished you hadn’t agreed to help at all. “Something like that.”

He smiles, but thankfully doesn’t tease you further. Instead, he turns his attention to the two boys beside you.

“What did you bring her for?” he asks, curiosity the only thing you can identify in his tone. Jimin wastes no time in sealing your fate.

“She offered to help when we told her Kookie and Jin were sick!” he says, smacking your shoulder like a proud parent. It was almost a little too hard, and you cough slightly from the impact. Taehyung rubs a soothing hand over the place of impact, giving his brother a look. “So we brought her over, since the others can’t stay and you’re the only one that can run classes at the studio right now.”

Hoseok’s mouth forms an ‘o’, dark eyes flicking to you in surprise. “Oh, that’s very kind of you,” he remarks, flashing you another billion-watt smile. “Thank you, for that. We’re not usually this hopeless at caring for ourselves but one of the ones that’s sick is the one that usually cares for us so… we’ve kind of been running around like headless chickens, heh.”

You shrug, finally feeling a little more settled and a little less like you’d like to flee at the first available opportunity. You’re still very keenly aware of the fact that this is only the second—and first, in Hoseok’s case—time meeting these people, and it’s therefore a little awkward for you. But, to their credit, the way they’re just taking it in stride is really helping you feel less out of place.

Even though technically you hadn’t even planned on coming anywhere near here….

“It’s no problem,” you say, unsure how else to receive his words. He’s still smiling, though, so you’re guessing that he wouldn’t have been too bothered however you answered.

“How are they?” Taehyung asks, soft baritone brushing the air. There’s palpable concern in his voice, and when you glance his way his expression confirms it.

“Well,” Hoseok says, placing the bowl down on the counter again, except with a little more oomph this time. You’re beginning to grow curious as to what exactly is in there. “They’re not any better, but they’re not exactly any worse, either, so… I’m not sure how to answer. Although—”

He smacks his hand onto the counter, a wooden clatter following from the spoon in his grasp, and your eyes widen at the light gashes on the back of his hand. They’re open but not bleeding, as though they’re in the midst of healing, but they look like they were deep at some point. “—Jin has been getting a bit of an attitude, so it’s probably for the best that you brought her. The two of you are going to have to deal with him; she can deal with Kookie, if she needs to. He’s just been sulky.”

“Jin got an attitude?!” Jimin sounds incredulous, and you figure that whichever one is Jin mustn’t normally kick up much of a fuss if he’s reacting like that to the information. “What, why? Did one of you step on his paw again?”

For a moment, you think it’s just a figure of speech, like a wolf thing, but then Hoseok huffs and grumbles, rolling his eyes. “No! That was only once! No one went near his stupid paws this time. He’s been shifted ever since he started feeling sick but he’s only just started getting snappy. He’s a little testy right now… it’s why I was down here, making him stupid treats because he can’t eat human desserts in this form.”

Wait, so both of them… are wolves right now? You’re suddenly a little nervous, but do your best not to show it—somehow, despite the fact their senses are so much more advanced than yours and usually you’d be instantly found out, they’re a little too distracted with the issue currently on their hands to notice.

As though he can hear the slander being thrown around on the floors below him, there is a sudden long, muffled howl that pierces the air—the sound is weaker than you’d expect but still startles you, making you jump. As it ends, it’s followed by a thump and a series of thunks and rattles, like something had been knocked off a shelf. Hoseok rolls his eyes, and you put the pieces together and realise that must have been the wolf in question.

Jimin is wincing, reaching to take the bowl and spoon into his hands. “Uh, okay—we’ll keep an eye on him, and I’ll finish making his, uh… his scooby snacks. You can get going, I know you have a class ready to start in, like, ten minutes.”

Hoseok shoots his packmate a thankful look, more being said with his eyes than you’re privy to as a complete stranger. Now he’s relieved of his duties for the night,

“Thank you,” he says, passing Jimin the whisk that lay discarded at the other end of the bench. You then watch as he moves around the counter to grab what you quickly realise is a gym bag from its perch on the table. You half expect him to wave and then be on his way, but he halts partway towards the door, something on the tip of his tongue.

“If they don’t get better…” he trails off, brows furrowed. It’s in this moment that it really sinks in for you that their packmates must be quite sick for them to be so concerned, and you feel bad that you regretted being dragged here earlier. Jimin and Taehyung are your friends and they need help caring for their pack, their family. You feel crummy for opposing it even a little bit.

Hoseok shakes his head, brows furrowing further. “No, even if they do start to get better—I think we should call the Head Healer. This isn’t normal, and whether its some supernatural flu or something else I think they should know. I’ll tell Yoongi to call his dad, but be prepared to tell him in case he forgets.”

The two males beside you nod, Jimin’s orange locks bouncing from the fervour with which he did so.

“Will do,” Taehyung affirms, nodding towards the redhead. “We’ll take care of them in the meantime.”

Hoseok nods, expression lightening for a fraction of a second. His gaze is soon flitting back to you, a smile that makes your heart skip a beat on his lips. “It was a pleasure to meet you, despite the circumstances,” he declares politely, even if the gleam in his eye is anything but. It takes all of your willpower to keep a straight face. “I’d love to get to know you a little more sometime—”

“YAH get out of here you slimy—” Jimin is huffing suddenly, red-faced and outraged, waving his arms before darting forward to chase his packmate out. “Don’t speak to her like that! She’s off-limits! Do not put your dirty whore hands anywhere near—”

The two of them disappear around the corner, but the sound of Hoseok’s cackling and Jimin’s indignant yells reach you loud and clear anyway. As Jimin sees his packmate off at the door, Taehyung picks up the bowl and resumes where Hoseok left off, and you’re left wondering just how this night is going to go with two massive wolves upstairs needing to be cared for.

x – x

“Okay, so… here’s the plan.”

You listen attentively, fidgeting on the spot and wishing not for the first time that these two idiots had let you change before dragging you here to help out. The sweat has made your head itchy, and you’re trying so hard not to scratch it that you feel your hands trembling. Thankfully, the two wolves beside you remain none the wiser to your inner turmoil and the occasional stink-eye you throw their way.

“Me and Jiminie are gonna go deal with Jin-hyung,” Taehyung says, pausing as a loud thump echoes from the floor above. The three of you are standing at the foot of the stairs, and had been about to go up before the taller man halted you all to make a game-plan. “It… seems like it’s gonna be a two person job. I don’t know what his problem is…?”

He looks to the side to Jimin as he trails off, but his friend merely shrugs, no closer to knowing the source of his packmate’s behaviour than he is. Taehyung huffs, turning to you. “And you can handle Kookie. Just take his food up for him, apparently he’s just been sulky and he’s not aggressive in wolf or human form so you shouldn’t have anything to be worried about.”

You nod as he hands you a bowl of cooked and seasoned meat that makes even your mouth water from the aroma wafting with steam into the air. “Great. That really comforts me, thank you.”

Taehyung grins and Jimin rolls his eyes. “If he allows it, could you check his temperature when you go up there? I know we usually run hot, but we’ve noticed that with whatever sickness this is their temperatures fluctuate a lot. It’ll be really helpful if you can just tell us whether he’s warm or cold.”

You nod again, Jimin appearing satisfied with his instruction. Taehyung throws his hand in the air, almost dislodging the bowl in his hold as he does so. “Alright! Autobots, roll out!”

You simply turn to go up the stairs first, already hearing Jimin deliver his packmate with a firm whack for being an idiot. You reach the top of the stairs and pause, eyes sweeping across the hallway and the abundance of closed doors with little or no distinguishing characteristics. Well, shit.

“Last door on the right, y/n!”

Perfect. Off you go.

As you approach the end of the hallway, another door opposite the one you’re heading towards, the feeling that has been sitting dormant in your abdomen suddenly stirs to life. The tugging around your navel is more persistent than ever, leaving you confused and a little disoriented as you finally reach the last door on the right. To your surprise, there is a shuffling sound from the door opposite, on the left side of the hall, and a low, baleful whine that reaches you through the wood and makes your heart drop and clench. You don’t think you’ve ever reacted so strongly to, well, anything before.

Shaking your head and hearing the other two follow behind you in the hall, you grasp the doorknob of the door you’ve been directed to and ease it open, slipping inside as quietly as possible before closing it behind you. Taking a deep breath to calm yourself and attempt to smother the quickened pace of your heart before it’s beating gets too loud, you slowly look up from the door handle and survey the rest of the room.

It’s chic, a stylish combination of white and various cool greys across the room. The window is open but the dark curtains drawn, the breeze ruffling them ever so slightly and making you shiver as it reaches you from across the room. It’s nice, you admit to yourself, momentarily forgetting why you’re there. You’re quickly reminded once more, however, at the sight of the massive furry lump sprawled across the queen-sized bed. The main overhead light isn’t on, but the bedside lamps are and it’s enough to illuminate the wolf left in your care for the time being. There’s something about him that tickles familiarity in the back of your mind as you survey his form; his coat is a sleek mixture of ink and charcoal, fur illuminated dark chestnut where it falls beneath the light. You can’t quite put your finger on why you feel something stir inside you at the sight of him, this massive wolf sprawled across the bed, and for the time being you decide to give up on attempting to understand it.

Adjusting your hold on the bowl in your hands, you move closer to the bed, unable to help the way you keep admiring this wolf’s majestic form even as he faces away from you. You know this one is the member called Jungkook, but you can’t quite put a human face to the name to recall which wolf it was that bowled you over a week ago.

Initially, you thought that he might have been asleep, but as you grow closer to the bed you hear the softest whimper enter the air, followed by a thin whine. You freeze, looking up just in time to see a large, heavy-lidded, amber eye watching you move. Distantly, you realise that this is the sort of sight that should be making you freeze in fear. Instead, the only thing you feel is something odd and foreign, curling warmly in the pit of your abdomen. You’re not sure what to do with it, and to be honest it gives you pause.

“Uh, hey,” you say softly, feeling a little awkward. The wolf gives a huff, blinking his large eye somewhat owlishly—while he didn’t seem to really see you earlier, he appears to be registering your appearance now. “We’ve met before… I’m Taehyung and Jimin’s friend. They said that you guys were sick so I offered to help out…”

The wolf shuffles in place, looking a little more alert. Thankfully, as Taehyung had promised, he doesn’t seem aggressive or anything like that. Actually, he seems about the opposite—as he rises to a slightly more elevated position on the bed, now facing you, he lets out another long, low whine. It makes your insides clench with something like sympathy. You place the bowl where he can reach it and immediately the wolf starts devouring his meal.

There is a sudden yowl that pierces through the walls and makes you jump, but the wolf before you couldn’t be more unbothered. In the blink of an eye the bowl is emptied and licked clean, the wolf’s massive head lifting to pin you with a look that seems to say ‘what next?’. You move the bowl so it isn’t tipped, placing it on the bedside table next to a black Nintendo Switch console there. Before you can flounder too much, you recall Jimin’s instructions from earlier.

“Oh, I need to check your temperature, as well…” you inform him, still speaking softly. There is a bit of a commotion from beyond the bedroom door and you think you hear Taehyung holler something stupid, but can’t be sure. You decide to ignore it.

Tentatively, you reach your hand up, simply going for the wolf’s forehead or the closest thing to it. To your surprise, despite the minute nod that the wolf had offered you just before, now he seems to be moving his head just out of reach every time you come close. There’s a peculiar gleam in his big puppy eyes that you can’t quite decipher, almost something sly as you continue attempting to place the back of your hand against his head. His relentless shifting ends up with you leaning over the bed to reach him, and you realise a little too late just how unstable you are. Finally, he allows you to place your hand against his head, but it lasts for barely a second before the bed is shifting suddenly and then you’re falling onto the mattress with an ‘oof!’.

The wolf huffs, a massive arm laying over your hips and his head flopped down on your chest just below your breasts. You can feel your face heat in a combination of embarrassment, confusion, and fluster. For a moment, you’re too stunned to even move.

“What are you—” you can’t even finish a full sentence, you’re so flustered. “I only need to take your temperature! Let me up, please—”

You attempt to move, or even prop yourself on your elbows, and the wolf whimpers, pitifully, more of his weight bearing down on you. You pause before trying again and receiving the same reaction, this time with a mournful whine tacked onto the end.

“You’re a big baby,” you find yourself saying, tone much closer to exasperated scolding than you might have expected. “Are you really not gonna let me up?”

In response, you receive a huff and an adjustment of the wolf’s hold on you that makes it even more difficult for you to get up from the bed, his massive paw pressing into the mattress on the other side of you. When you let out a heavy sigh, he whimpers and butts his head against you, the action oddly affectionate.

“I can’t believe this,” you mutter, staring at the ceiling and wondering what on earth has just happened in the past few minutes. Since you can do nothing else, you take the opportunity to finally touch his forehead and take his temperature. He’s a little cool, but oddly doesn’t stay that way; it’s like you can feel him warming beneath your hand.

Really, you’re pretty much trapped right now. You’re not as scared as one might think you would be, and you don’t really know what you’re feeling in response to the situation. You do know that something flips and flutters inside you every time you move and you hear him whimper, or whine and snuggle closer. This wolf is almost the size of a bear and is snuggling all over you like a teacup puppy.

You’re not sure how long you lay in spot before your two idiot friends finally realise you’ve been gone a little too long for the menial tasks you were given and come knocking. The creak of the door easing open makes you jump slightly in surprise and the hackles on the wolf to raise ever so slightly.

“y/n, what is taking you so l—oh. Oh my gosh.”

Your head whips in the direction of the door, and a pleading look is already on your face before you can even think to muster it. Taehyung and Jimin stand stock still in the doorway, faces portraying an almost comical amount of shock. Jimin squints, rubbing his eyes as though he’s making sure he’s really seeing what he’s seeing. “Uh… what happened here?”

“He won’t let me up,” you grumble, face on fire. This is humiliating. The wolf huffs, like he’s talking back to you, and both Taehyung and Jimin’s eyebrows shoot up. “He’s sneaky. I just tried to take his temperature and….”

“Oh, right,” Jimin says, blinking rapidly. “How is it?”

“A little cold, but each time I check he gets warmer,” you inform him, the distant hilarity of the situation not lost on you as you calmly discuss the health and wellbeing of the wolf that currently has you pinned to his bed as a makeshift teddy bear. Jimin goes to take a step forward and a soft growl halts him mid-movement, the sound something you can feel rumbling from deep within the wolf’s chest.

“Jungkookie,” he scolds, gasping in affront. “Don’t be nasty.”

“Oh my god,” Taehyung mumbles to himself, something cheeky and mischievous that spells absolute trouble glimmering in his eyes. “This is fantastic—just wait until you’re human again, Koo. You’re not gonna live this down.”

Unimpressed, you send them a glare—some of your limbs are starting to fall asleep, maybe they could try and help you get out? Catching the look you send them, the two men share their own, and you can safely say you don’t quite like the tone of it.

They better not leave you here.

x – x – x

The next day finds you sprawled on your bed, feeling dead to the world.

True to their historically goblin nature, your two best friends had indeed left you there.

You’d found out later that it was because they knew they’d only be able to slip you out from under the wolf when he fell asleep (because apparently once he’s out, he sleeps like the dead, no matter the form). But until such a time as they actually came and retrieved you from beneath their sick, clingy packmate, you were incredibly annoyed with them. It had taken about an hour or so for the wolf, Jungkook, to fall asleep—about halfway through that you’d subconsciously keyed into the same plan as them and had begun carding your hands through his fur in an attempt to lull him to sleep faster. It had worked, and you don’t want to think about how dead your limbs would be if the wolf had taken any longer to fall asleep.

In all, the ordeal was incredibly embarrassing and your only saving grace is that Taehyung and Jimin were too busy planning how to tease their youngest packmate to tease you. Which is lucky because, wolf or not, if they’d teased you then you might have killed them.

You didn’t get back until around midnight, since you’d stayed a bit longer to help Taehyung and Jimin cook and prepare some stuff in case the two wolves woke up worse. As soon as your head hat hit the pillow, you’d knocked right out. Shamefully, you slept so deep and long that you missed your alarm for your morning class and woke up closer to lunch, which is where you are now.

Laying in bed with aching eyes and wishing that you didn’t have another class in another two hours.

Jihyo hadn’t even questioned where you went for so long last night, but also hadn’t made a joke about you finally getting some so you figure she’s waiting to pounce on you later. You find she’s already left for the day, when you finally wrangle yourself from bed and attempt to resume life as a functioning human being. So you’re safe until at least this afternoon, when she finishes her shift at the university second-hand bookstore. You can probably remain safe for longer if you study at the library and come home when she goes to her pilates class.

You’re shamefully good at evading her, at this point. You’d feel bad if it wasn’t a skill you’d learnt for survival.

You took your time a little too much while getting ready for your class, and it made you run so late that for the time being even you completely forgot about the events of last night. Well, you did until you enter your classroom and are greeted by two loud hollers of your name. Honestly, do they have no shame? Do attractive people even feel shame?

“Shut up,” you grumble half-heartedly as you take your seat between them, resisting the urge to rub your eyes since you’d put on mascara earlier. One of many things that had almost made you late. “You’re so loud.”

You complain, but secretly you’re glad for the noise—it means they’re feeling better, and things must also be improving at the pack dorm. When you finally raise your eyes to survey their faces, you find them displaying an odd mix of emotions. Like they’re glad, relieved, but at the same time still concerned about something.

“So… how are things at the dorm?” you inquire tentatively, making the most of the time you have before your tutor arrives and begins the class; it seems you aren’t the only one running behind today.

Taehyung lets out a huff, resting his cheek in his hand with a wry smile. “Well, Jungkookie is much better. You must have a magic touch because he was up and back into his human form this morning. He wanted to go to his classes but Namjoon made him stay back because he’s still not completely better.”

“On the other hand,” Jimin continues, without the need of prompting. “Seokjin… well, it’s almost like he’s the same as before, slowly getting worse. We can’t figure out what is wrong with him and why his condition isn’t turning around like Jungkook’s is.”

Ah, now you understand their expressions. They look about as confused as you feel, too. It doesn’t leave you with a very good feeling, if they’re the experts in this area and even they’re stumped for an explanation.

“We got Yoongi to call his dad, though. I heard them on the phone before we left so I suppose we’ll hear what he recommends when we get back.”

You hum to acknowledge what he said, opening your mouth to respond but deciding against it when you see the tutor hurtle into the room, out of breath and frantic.

“Sorry I’m late, everyone! If you could please all open your books to this week’s chapter, I will begin with the slides in just a moment!”

x – x – x

Considering that what you’d heard from your two wolf friends was that one of their packmates was on the mend and the other less so, you hadn’t really expected to hear anything else from them. That proves to be the exact opposite of what happens, though.

At quarter to three in the morning, you’re woken to sharp, persistent banging on your front door—the kind that makes you scared that the door is actually going to break beneath the force of the blows raining down on it. You tear out of your bed and stumble down the hall to answer it, knowing that if Jihyo has to get up to do it she’s going to tear you a new asshole.

“WHAT?!” You snap, not even seeing properly through the bleariness in your eyes but knowing in your heart there’s only two people ballsy enough to come bust your door down at this hour in the morning. “Are you trying to get me killed?! Jihyo still hasn’t forgotten about the last time you came over and ruined her sleep!”

Jimin has the decency to look somewhat sheepish, but Taehyung simply looks distressed. “Look, I’m not gonna say I’m sorry because I’m not, but we really need you to come with us right now.”

You blink, reaching to rub your eyes and feeling a strand of your hair flop into your face in response. You just know it looks like something made at the hands of Jackson Pollock right now. “What? The hell? Do you mean?”

It’s Jimin’s airy tone that reaches you this time, lowering your hackles ever so slightly. “No, he’s lying, we are sorry, it’s just—it’s an emergency. Something happened and we need your help to test a… a theory, if you will.”

You stare at him, willing his words to make sense in your sleepy brain. “I don’t understand.”

“That’s fine,” Taehyung says; and then in the next second he reaches and grabs you around the waist, slinging you over his shoulder. “We just need you to come. Can you lock up so she doesn’t kill us, Jiminie?”

You’re too stunned to even say anything as you hear Jimin lock your front door behind you, Taehyung already beginning to move post-haste down the apartment building hallway with you over his shoulder. When you finally catch-up to the events of the current moment, you instantly curse the blonde man out. “Hey, what the fuck—I can walk! Put me down! Put me down or I’ll go straight back home!”

“No way,” Taehyung argues, already exiting the building with you in tow. “You’re just gonna go back no matter what, if I put you down. I saw that look in your eyes, the one you get when you’re about to slam the door in our faces. We really need you to come, y/n.”

You blink, trying to remember if you planned on closing the door in their faces. It was only a few moments ago, but you’re still half-asleep and can’t remember for the life of you. A part of you wishes to speak up and deny his words, but for however outraged you are right now you’re still attuned to the words he’s saying and the vocal cues that accompany his speech. It gives you pause, because he seems really, genuinely distressed right now.

“What happened? What’s going on?”

Jimin has since caught up to the two of you and is opening the car door, preparing the back seat for your entry—you haven’t seen this one before, so you presume it must belong to one of the older pack members. “It’s Jin-hyung and Kookie.”

“What?” Confusion combines with sleepiness to make you sound like the stupidest person on earth. “I thought they were getting better? Or at least Jungkook was—”

“We thought so too,” Taehyung says, finally putting you down and patting your head in a makeshift apology. You decide that killing him can wait for later.

“And then… tonight happened.”

As the two of them climb hurriedly into the car and buckle up to send you all on your way to the pack dorm, they fill you in on the events of the evening. While Jungkook had shown a marked improvement over the day, it was like a switch had flipped as soon as night fell and the moon emerged from below the horizon. He relapsed to a worse state than he was in last night, and Seokjin’s condition apparently worsened as well. Alarmed and not having a single idea what to do, they’d called in Yoongi’s father who had spent a large majority of the night attempting to diagnose them and prevent their condition from worsening. Only around half an hour ago had he put together a theory as to what was wrong with them, after all the pack members filled him in on everything they could.

“Wait so—Yoongi’s dad? The healer…?” you wait for their nods of confirmation before continuing. “He thinks it has something to do with me? Wait, if that’s the case should you even be bringing me back?! What if I make them worse again! God, I knew I shouldn’t have rocked up to the party last week…”

“No, well—I mean—” Jimin flounders for what to say, cutting himself off when he comes close to saying something and giving you the sense that there is another element to this that they’re not telling you. You have half a mind to demand to know, but you also recognise it could also be a wolf thing that you have no business knowing. “Don’t worry, if the head healer of our pack is calling you back, it’s not because he thinks you’re the thing making them sick.”

That does ease you, admittedly. Just a bit. You yawn, catching movement outside your window and realising with a startle that you’re already at the pack dorm. Instantly, for reasons barely known to you, your stomach erupts into a live bundle of nerves. You’re so baffled by it that you don’t even notice as the car pulls to a stop and your door is being opened in the next second by a perplexed Jimin.

“Are you alright?”

You give him a stinky look to save face as you climb out of the car, pretending your legs aren’t wobbly. “You’re asking that now?”

At the attitude in your voice the expression of concern slips right off his face and he snorts, looping his arm through yours and dragging you up the path to the pack dorm for the third time in a week. “Oh good, you’re alright. Hurry up now, I can hear them howling like pups from here.”

You go to bite back with a response but pause, because the second you tune into your ears you can hear it too. It’s mournful, the way the howls pierce the air. Baleful, especially when paired with the scenery of the almost-full moon hanging above the trees. Again, you’re not scared, just oddly… nervous. As in, full of nerves. It’s as though there are a thousand bees buzzing in your abdomen, and the network of nerves and synapses in your body have turned to live wires beneath your skin, thrumming and prickling with energy.

What does your subconscious seem to know that you don’t?

The howls are amplified the second you enter the house and there is no longer several inches of thick wall muffling their piercing resonance. They seem to be upstairs once more, on the side of the house that you didn’t venture into last time. Now that you’re close enough, you can distinguish that it’s not only pitiful howls breaking the air, but soft whimpers and whines, as well. Something about it, the quality of the sounds brushing your ears, makes your eyes prick with tears. It’s almost like…. Grieving. Like they’re calling out for something or someone that isn’t coming.

“Wow, they’re somehow even louder than when we left,” Jimin remarks, already dragging you towards the stairs and beginning on the climb up. “For wolves that are so sick they sure do still have a pair of lungs on them.”

You’re too busy remembering the fact that you’re currently dressed in the same shorts and singlet combo you’ve been in all week, and that you’re in a house full of men (and wolves, but you digress) to offer a response. Your arrival at the top of the stairs brings you to the sight of a number of men at the end of the hall, gathered together and muttering amongst themselves. You recognise all but one, and figure that the unfamiliar older gentleman must be Yoongi’s father as you’d heard of him.

“We brought her,” Jimin announces, though you doubt it was very necessary since they could probably smell you coming from the driveway. “Are they doing any better?”

Yoongi leans around Namjoon to deliver the younger with a deadpan look. “Listen for yourself.”

Right on cue, there is another round of pitiful howling, the noise tugging at something deep inside you. Why did it make you want to go to them? Are your instincts broken? That seems like a crazy reaction to have. Perhaps you should go get yourself checked out after this ordeal, though you’re unsure which professional you should be seeking out.

Jimin winces. “Alright. So they’re not doing much better at all.”

The new character, Yoongi’s dad, steps forward and reaches out to shake your hand. “Hello, you must be y/n. I’m Yunho, the Head Healer of this pack. I’m so sorry to have brought you out here at such a late hour.”

Now that everyone’s attention is on you, and Yunho looks so genuinely apologetic (you see the relation to Yoongi in the kind set of his features) you find your earlier anger at being awoken and dragged here fizzling out for good. Somewhat meekly, you manage to respond, “It’s fine. If I can help then I don’t mind at all.”

The older man smiles at your words, appreciation in his tone as he thanks you. “We’re really grateful, for that. Now, if you don’t mind, all I want you to do is just… go into the room with them.”

You blink, Taehyung and Jimin already having begun guiding (read: dragging) you to the room in question. “Pardon?”

Yunho seems slightly amused and sheepish. “I… have a theory, as to what is wrong with these two. I will inform you of everything after we test it out, but would you be able to go in, for now? Please?”

You’re not exactly in a position to refuse, not that you really want to anyway. As silly as it is, if going into the room where the wolves are is something that will somehow actually help them, then you’ll do it. Especially because you don’t think you can handle much more of their baleful howling—they seem miserable.

“Yeah, okay. Of course.” You shake your limbs out, shrugging your arms out of your friends’ grips and shooting them a glare for manhandling your again. They have the decency to appear slighty apologetic.

The entire pack in the hallway parts to let you through, like a sea of wolves. The room they direct you to is the one opposite of the one you went into last night, the one where the rowdy wolf that Jimin and Taehyung took care of had been. Taking a deep breath, you push the slightly ajar door open, biting your lip in anticipation of what you will see on the other side.

It’s a room similar in shape to Jungkook’s, but with blues and yellows mixed into the scheme of whites and greys. It is, put simply and as objectively as possible, a mess. You can see where things have been knocked off of shelves and desks, and some items (namely one of the bed posts) have been chewed up and left disfigured. It looks like a house with remnants of a temper tantrum from a puppy left alone too soon. They aren’t on the bed, which is oddly bare, and you see why a moment later when you catch sight of them huddled together on the floor, the size of small bears but shaking and whimpering so pathetically that you don’t feel even a shred of fear as you gaze upon them. A rumpled mixture of fluffy blankets and duvets are beneath them in a makeshift nest, some of them still attached to the bed and tucked underneath the end of the mattress.

You’re not sure what you expected when you stepped into the room, but it wasn’t for the two wolves to fall dead silent upon your arrival. You freeze, unsure how to proceed until there is a nudge at your back, and you turn over your shoulder to see Yunho giving you an encouraging look.

“Just go over to them, it will be okay. They won’t hurt you.”

You didn’t realise that was a fear you had until his words soothed it, and you take another deep breath to steel yourself before following his directions. You can’t tell whether the wolves are awake, or in that feverish place between sleep and waking, but the closer you get the less restless they seem and the less noises tumble from their jaws. Unsure what they want you to do when you reach the wolves, you turn back with a questioning look. Already, at the silence in the room, Yunho has a relieved look on his face. He makes a hand movement, gesturing for you to take a seat, and you see several heads pop around the doorframe to watch as you do so.

Blushing madly and pretending that you’re not as embarrassed as you are, you sink to your knees in front of the two wolves, eyes scanning over the one you hadn’t seen before today.

Seokjin, if you recall correctly; the eldest in the pack (well… this little subgroup of the larger pack, anyway), and the other wolf that bowled you over that day. A sense of familiarity washes over you as you view him, too, despite the fact you don’t think you’ve ever seen him in his wolf form before. His coat is sandy and light, caramel-hued in some places with accents of white around his eyes and front paws. Again, you can’t quite place where you’ve seen him before, but you know deep down that you have. The same goes for Jungkook, who appears extra dark next to his lighter packmate. Each of their heads is larger, broader than one of your thighs, something you become acutely aware of as you shuffle closer on your knees. Two barely-seeing sets of amber eyes watch your every movement.

Just when you go to look back and see what they want you to do next, there is shuffling from in front of you that captures your attention instead; a whimper escapes Jungkook, but Seokjin is the one that is moving, lifting his head and craning it forward until his moist nose skims your knee, sniffing tentatively. Whatever you smell like must confirm something for him, because in the next moment he’s letting out a low whine from the back of his throat and struggling forward, butting his head against you before rubbing the side of it along your thigh. You don’t have words to describe how hot your face is right now. Just when you think it can’t get any more embarrassing, the darker wolf gains a sudden burst of energy and lurches forward, snapping his teeth around the edge of your shorts leg and tugging lightly.

“Wh—” you don’t even have the brain space to finish whatever you were going to say, too busy shuffling forward and trying to make sure this wolf doesn’t pants you in front of the rest of the pack who are—as you confirm with an alarmed look over your shoulder—still watching everything unfold. The wolf, Jungkook, doesn’t stop tugging until you’re nestled deep between their two bodies, their temperatures rising each second you spend there, and as soon as he releases his teeth from the material of your shorts, Seokjin’s body is tilting and his head is coming to press against you and trap you in.

This is ridiculous. Is this actually happening? Are you not still at home, dreaming?

Your alarmed look is directed at the rest of the pack mates and Yunho once more, the older man letting out a sigh and wincing lightly. The rest of the members seem an odd mix of relieved and baffled. It does not soothe you one bit.

“Okay… y/n, there’s something we need to talk to you about.”

a/n: here it is! pls let me know what u think, feel free to come scream in my inbox and leave a like & reblog!! it means the world to me!! i might not always get to respond to all of them, but i do read every single one-- reread, even. thank u for reading this and for always supporting me! love u!! <3

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