#They were going to put him on the cover of vogue but his legs were toooooo long

[asparklethatisblue]

James “best walker in the service” Fitzjames clearly has very nice long legs, very shapely and all that…

we need more stuff of Francis being absolutely fixated on them

[drewsbuzzcut]

Behind The Scenes

Mat Barza x fem!model!reader

A visceral in doses fic

Warnings: some jealousy, a guy being a creep, smut, pregnancy, being naked, mentions nerves

Takes place early 2025

“I’m cold,” you complain with a shiver and scoot closer to Mat, letting his warmth heat up your body.

Right now you’re both on set for a photoshoot with Vogue. You and Mat are going to be on the cover, which is one of the biggest honors and you’re so excited. Aside from this being a big time shoot, you and your boyfriend are also announcing your first pregnancy to the world. You’re excited and nervous while Mat cannot stop talking about it. You’re happy that he’s excited and that he’s doing this cover with you.

“Come here, baby. Let me warm you up,” he wraps his arms around you, his large hands resting on the expanse of your back. He quickly makes all of your goosebumps disappear as if they were never there.

“I’m really nervous. This is going to be big news. Everyone is going to freak out,” you pout at him.

Gently, you cup his cheeks and squish them together. It earns your boyfriend’s famous cackle and it makes your heart melt.

“It’s exciting. I think I might’ve been a model in my past life,” he says and sways you in his arms. He fidgets with the seam of your robe, immediately alerting you that he has some nerves.

“I mean if all else fails, you have modeling to fall back on,” you roll your eyes as you tease him. You hope that it’ll wash away his hidden nerves.

“Haha,” he shakes his head with sass and it makes you giggle.

“Y/n and Mat, we’re ready for you,” an assistant informs you.

“Ready Mr. super model?” You ask, carding your fingers through his already tousled hair.

“So ready!” He guides you to the setup, eyes glued on you as you peel off your robe.

It’s the one thing he doesn’t like about today. The inspiration behind this photo shoot is being comfortable in your own skin and embracing the simplicity of being bare with someone you’re comfortable with. Mat doesn’t have a problem with it at all, he’s confident with his body and you’re confident with your body. The problem is that everyone who’s behind the scenes will see your breasts. Your breasts that have grown with being pregnant, and that are for his eyes only. Mat usually wouldn’t mind because it’s your job and he’d never tell you what to do or not to do with your body. For him, it’s mainly about the people gawking at you with no shame. It makes his skin crawl with jealousy.

“Pose 1, guys.”

You and Mat both stand, your chest pressed into his bare one while he rests his hands on your hips. You stare into his eyes while the cameras flash around you, partially thankful that this first round will only focus on your bodies. He mouths a silent “I love you” and you slightly lean up to kiss him.

“I love you,” you whisper into his lips.

Mat can’t help but take in your soft features and the way your eyes softly peer into his. He wishes he can caress your cheeks the way he usually would when you flash him a loving expression.

You smile at the way his hands flex over your hips. You know him well enough to know that he’d put his hands on your cheeks if he could.

Soft moments like these make it seem like everything around you disappears. The cameras aren’t on you or your baby daddy and it’s just you two in the room.

It sadly doesn’t last long.

“Pose 2!”

Mat moves to sit on the floor with one leg propped up. You straddle his lap and hold onto the sides of his torso. His hands go to your ass, giving you a hearty squeeze that makes you giggle.

“Sorry, I had to. Your ass looks too good in these jeans,” Mat muses, eyebrows lifting in a casual cool sense.

A red, hot flush fills your cheeks adding to your already glowing skin. You love the way Mat always gives you attention. It’s like he was born to compliment and love you.

He’s so sexy.

“Okay, this angle isn’t working so we need to see your side profiles. Mat, we need you to smolder and Y/n, do your open mouth pout with your head tilted back. You’re going to have your breasts right under his chin,” the photographer guides you.

Mat feels his chest tighten when he realizes everyone will get a good look at your boobs. He has a hard time not making eye contact with those who stare at you like they’ve never seen a pair of boobs in their entire lives. Even the bright flash can’t distract him. At least your thumb swiping at the skin of his torso helps him relax.

“Great! Y/n, you look amazing,” one of the assistants says, making Mat snarl at him. It’s almost like he isn’t even there, posing in the same picture.

“Okay! Next pose.”

Mat moves to fully face the camera while you move to his side, hugging his arm and blocking your nudity from the camera. As you do so, Mat watches the eyes of many men who can’t seem to look away. As you were adjusting your pose, your breasts were out in the open and those guys took it as the perfect opportunity to stare.

He lets out a silent huff which gathers your attention.

“What’s wrong?” You ask after a picture is taken.

“These men keep staring at you like you’re something to eat and it doesn’t sit right with me,” he explains, trying not to let his facial features show his jealousy. It doesn’t work, though. His face is set in a frown and his lips are pouty.

You kiss his jaw and nudge your nose into his skin.

“I love you, baby, but they’re just making sure we’re all doing what we’re supposed to do,” you reason with him.

You’re used to being exposed around many people and sometimes their eyes tend to wander for longer than usual, but it’s never bothered you. You can understand your boyfriend, though. He’s not used to everyone seeing you.

“Well, they don’t need to be staring at you,” he grunts.

You turn his face towards yours and slant your lips over his. Something about him being jealous turns you on. It shows just how much he craves you, despite being pregnant and it’s an ego boost.

“You’re so hot,” you whisper, eyes darkening with lust.

Quickly his mood flips and he’s matching your smirk with one of his own.

“One more before break!” You’re both snapped out of your lustrous haze.

For this photo, it’s just you. You lay out on the floor with your hair fanning out around your head. You cover your breasts with your hands just so the main focus can be your growing bump.

The main photographer lets her apprentice take a few shots. He’s standing above you, getting a bird’s eye view while Mat seethes in the back.

“Damn, you’re one lucky guy. The rack on her is insane,” Mat hears to his side.

His blood boils and the veins in his neck start to pop out. Does that guy know who he’s talking to?

“Excuse you?” Mat says finally turning to see who was audacious enough to utter those words.

“You’re one lucky man. I bet you hit that every night. I know I would,” the other guy groans, eyes locked in on you.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Have some fucking respect and take your eyes off my wife,” Mat growls, stepping closer to the jerk.

He’s done with these guys thinking they can just stare at what’s his. There’s also no way in hell Mat would ever let a man talk so crudely about another woman, let alone his girl.

“Dude chill!”

“I’m not your ‘dude.’ You need to keep your fucking mouth shut,” Mat almost roars and everyone stops what they’re doing.

You hurriedly pull on your robe and make your way to the scene.

“Are you okay?” You ask your man, hands coming to rest on his heaving chest. His skin is hot under your palms. His eyes hold even more fire.

“Everything’s fine because he will be leaving,” Mat claims, not asking permission for this guy to be thrown out.

“No way!” The guy yells.

“Can we get this guy out of here, he’s causing unnecessary issues,” you ask a higher up.

Everyone moves in a haste to get the guy off set and make sure everything is all good.

“Everyone take 30!”

You cup Mat’s cheeks and stare into his eyes.

“Are you sure you’re fine?”

“I am now,” he whispers, pulling you into a chaste kiss that isn’t enough for you.

He moves you to a secluded corner, crowding you into the wall with his muscled frame. Mat inhales a deep breath and looks around at your surroundings. Even though you’re both hidden, people can still be heard and partially seen.

Allowing his emotions to drive his actions, he pulls your lips to his by the back of your neck. Your hands eagerly hold onto his firm body. His tongue thrusts into your mouth, dominating yours as one of your legs comes up to wrap over his hips. You try to grind against him as you feel the wanton need for friction take over.

“Are you wet?” He asks against the shell of your ear, his lip dragging down the side of your face.

“Yes,” you respond, nodding your head just in case he doesn’t hear you.

“It’s all for you,” you state, pulling him into another kiss.

“Damn right. You’re my girl and you’re carrying my baby,” your boyfriend claims, a hand rubbing your small bump.

“Fuck me, Maty,” you whine and pull him impossibly closer to you. You don’t care if there is people around or if he fucks you into the wall. You just want his cock inside of you.

“Come with me,” he says, pulling you back to the most recent setup.

It’s a king size bed made up with cream colored bedding. It’s displayed for the next round of photos, but Mat would never have sex with you in an uncomfortable position- especially while you’re pregnant. So for now, the bed is yours and he’s about to take you on it.

You pull him into another kiss as he lays you down, your legs coming to wrap around his waist. Your boyfriend sits up on his knees, his hands reaching out to pull off your jeans and robe. You lay bare in front of him, feeling warmth cascade over you. He pulls down his own pants and underwear, leaning over you to caress your body with his lips.

“Who do you belong to?” He questions, lips right next to your ear and his fingers collecting your wetness.

“You,” you whine and rut your hips up into his hand, desperate to feel him fill you up.

“Who?” He teases, fisting himself before guiding his tip to your entrance.

“You,” you gasp as he slides into with an ease that’s only possible with being pregnant. When you get wet, you get wet.

“Oh my god,” you moan, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. The feeling of him sliding into you takes you to another planet.

“Look at you dripping for me,” he grunts, hands on your hips as he starts to fasten his pace.

He’s hard and heavy, snug between your wet walls. The thick head of his cock nudges deep inside of you, making you clench down on him.

“It’s all for you,” you moan and rut your hips up into his movements.

He cups your bouncing breasts, eliciting a squeal due to the sensitivity. Your arousal drips down his shaft, drawing Mat’s attention to where he’s splitting you open. Your pussy sucks him in and pulls away every shred of sanity he has left.

“Your pussy is mine,” he moans, pushing your legs as far into your chest as possible. He pounds into you, a thick finger coming down to circle your clit.

“All yours, baby,” you whine.

“You take my cock so well baby,” he praises you, words sweet but cocky.

His eyes are molten and you can feel the heat wash over you as he stares at you.

Whimpers and the squelching of wet skin hitting wet skin echo off the walls. You flutter around him, your greedy hands reach out to wherever you can reach. Your blunt nails dig into his skin, leaving angry red lines behind.

“I’m cumming,” you scream as you release around him.

Your entire body tenses up before the brunt of your orgasm crashes into you. Your body arches off the bed and full body chills work their way on your body.

“You’re so sexy carrying my baby. You enjoy being pumped with my cum, don’t you? I’m going to keep fucking you until you’re dripping with my cum,” he heaves out through his labored breathing.

His hips snap into yours and you can feel him pulse inside of you. Thick ropes of cum paint your walls as he stills his movements and then he pulls out to spurt the rest on your mound. His abdomen twitches, his own orgasm crashing into him with a heavy force. Sweat drips down his pretty face and his curls stick to his forehead.

As he catches his breath, he watches his release spill out of your spent hole. It’s a sight he’ll never get over, especially how you flutter around nothing because you miss the feeling of being full.

“I love you,” you sigh, finally coming back down.

He rubs his cock against your pussy, making sure to collect every single drop of cum. Soon he’s fucking his cum back into you and you feel another knot form in your tummy.

“I love you, baby. Your fucking pussy was made for me,” he responds, eyes closed and head tossed back.

His hips slowly rock into you and before you know it, your walls are collapsing on him again. You tremble as you welcome the surge of electricity to hurdle through your body.

“Just like that, baby. I love you,” he whispers against your lips. He continues to slowly thrust into you, hips moving like honey.

You softly push at him before you can feel the effects of your overstimulated muscles.

He carefully rolls off of you, but pulls you back into his side. He caresses your body with gentle hands- a stark contrast to the roughness he just displayed.

“Are you okay?” He kisses your temple, moving your sweaty hair away from your face.

“Perfect,” you reply as you kiss on his neck.

You rub at his torso and watch how he reacts to your touch. There’s nothing more appealing than your man becoming weak at the tips of your fingers. It makes your core tighten and drip with arousal, or it could just be his release pooling out of you again.

“You’re so sexy, baby,” he rasps, mouth coming down to catch one of your nipples.

You lean into his affection, blood pumping with fervor all over again. Being pregnant has made you incredibly insatiable and with Mat being incredibly beautiful, you cannot get enough of him.

“We have like 5 minutes left,” you inform him.

He cocks an eyebrow up and smirks at you. He quickly moves down your body, spreading you open, and eats your pussy like the starved man he is.

5 minutes later, no one questions your unkempt hair or the content grins you both wear.

a/n: Sorry this has taken so long😭 I hope you all enjoy this!!

[peppermint-toads]

𝐬𝐚𝐲 𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐞𝐬𝐞

perv eddie jacks off to your yearbook photo

cw: male masturbation, eddie is pervy, female reader

Eddie wasn’t organized in any aspect of his life besides this one. It was meticulously crafted and maintained, his porn collection. Magazines, VHS tapes, various centerfolds he’d ripped out and hidden away. Sorted by genre, then alphabetized, then neatly stored on his shelves.

His collection came in handy on days like this when you wore dresses a little too pretty for his liking to school. He rushed home to his expertly curated collection. He smiled at the rows of tapes lining his shelves. “How are my girls?” He greeted them with a smile.

His collection was pristine, orderly, polished. He ran the pad of his finger over the cardboard covers, mumbling to himself. “VHS Vixens, Driller, Bikini City.” He weighed his options, but none of them seemed to entice him like normally.

Usually, one glance at Tracy Lords smirking at him from the cover with a hand on her breast was enough to start and finish him. But ever since he met you, it wasn’t so easy.

Nothing was calling to him. He hated to do it, base his wank material selection off of some girl, but he was getting so desperate with the way his boner was pushing against the zipper of his jeans, seams rubbing over him so deliciously. Unfortunately, you were also becoming more than just some girl.

It was all too much. He was going to give up, take a cold shower and crack open a beer when he remembered what he had under his bed.

He got down on both knees leaning his head down to search for it, hair flopping into his face. He reached around blindly, finding a sock, no, pair of jeans, no. His hand came down on something solid, bingo.

It was his yearbook from last year. He’d never bought one before he met you. You’d looked so beautiful on picture day. You must’ve put your hair in rollers or something. It had looked so bouncy and perfect, Eddie just wanted to bury his nose in it, wrap it around his fingers, feel it against his navel. You’d done your makeup in a new way, too. Said you’d read about it in Vogue. Whatever it was, Eddie was convinced it was witchcraft. He knew he couldn’t live without those photos.

And he really didn’t want to. Didn’t want to resort to bringing his real thoughts and relationships into his perverted world, but he had to. He felt like a sicko, he really did, flipping open his yearbook to the exact page where your portrait was. He trailed his fingers over the page and smiled, staring at your pretty eyes.

He leaned his back against his bed and pressed down on his bulge, groaning with relief. His glance fell back to your photo and his cheeks flushed. He unzipped his black jeans and fished out his cock with the yearbook resting on his thighs.

He kept his eyes on yours as he pumped himself into his fist, precum coating his pointer finger and thumb. He pulled his lip into his mouth, practically whining as he touched his dick.

You were on a few other pages in the year book, he’d memorized which ones. His favorite one was you at the school’s fall festival. You were smiling brightly from atop a hay bale on the back of an old truck. A plaid blanket covered your legs and waist, and your shoulders were pulled tight together. You were cold, he remembered because you asked to wear his battle jacket.

He nearly choked, immediately tugging off the denim and handing it your way. Sure, he was freezing balls the rest of the night but it was worth it.

Smiling at the memory, he traced over your chest with his thumb, imagining how soft your skin would feel under his grasp. He thought about how pretty you’d look in his bed, splayed out and moaning for him.

He grunted, milky white cum coating the glossy paper and your pretty face.

Fuck. What had he done?

His porn collection sat untouched for weeks after that, gathered dust even. He started making excuses to take polaroids with you whenever you hung out, for memories, he’d say.

He hoarded those photos, stashed them away in his nightstand, pulling them out when he needed to rub one out. He always felt guilty afterwards, but he wouldn’t get off to anything else anymore.

And sometimes, he’d slip one of the polaroids underneath his pillow, comforted knowing you were there with him.

TAGLIST: @smolserpent @loveyru @sunsetenigma @hbaramas @lubsana @callmedeadric @hellfires-whore @pleasentlycrazyworld

[empresskylo]

hopper is your dad's best friend. you definitely should not be attracted to him. at the very least, he should definitely not be attracted to you...

a/n: i guess i lied, my next jim fic wasn't going to be stepdad!hop but rather dad's-bestie!hop. enjoy nonetheless.

masterlist

cw: smut, age gap, p in v, unprotected sex, power dynamic, size kink

jim hopper x afab!reader

wc: 3.1k

𝐍𝐒𝐅𝐖 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐔𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐓

You were sat at your dining room table flipping through a magazine when you heard your dad come through your front door. You lazily popped another chip in your mouth. You had one leg bent on the chair and the other dangling, your body looking painfully contorted but you swore it was more comfortable sitting like this.

“Dear,” your dad called out. You mumbled a response without lifting your eyes from the gossip article you were currently engulfed in.

Your eyes flickered up when you heard two sets of footsteps walk into the kitchen. Your cheeks flushed when you spotted the chief of police, Jim Hopper. Your father had been friends with Jim for years now, and you always had a little crush on him. Especially when he’d come over in his work uniform. 

You almost choked on the chip you were swallowing which gained an eyebrow raise from Hopper. You didn’t realize you were staring at him until you saw his eyes widen. You looked down and realized you were only wearing a frilly tank top and skimpy PJ shorts. You quickly crossed your arms to cover your chest, feeling self-conscious.

“Jim’s gonna be staying the night,” your dad spoke as he flung open the refrigerator door and grabbed a beer for him and Jim. He didn’t think twice about Hopper seeing you indecent like this. He was like family. He had known you since you were a kid. It was normal for him to be around all the time.

“Why?” 

“What? Already sick of my presence?” Hopper teased. 

You awkwardly fiddled with your hands that were resting on the table, feeling Jim’s heavy gaze on your frame. “His place is getting fumigated. Needs a place to stay for the night.” 

You nodded your head, refusing to look up and meet Hopper’s challenging eyes.

“We’ll be in the backyard, sweetie,” your dad said. Two sets of footsteps trailed to your back door and outside. 

You let out a sigh of relief. You shifted your legs, rubbing your thighs together awkwardly, your core throbbing. Fuck. Were you really that hot and bothered by just him being in the room with you for less than a minute? 

You spent the rest of your night in your room, wanting to avoid Jim at all costs. You lay flat on your bed, listening to a Stone’s song and flipping through the same Vogue magazine. 

Knock. Knock.

Your dad pushed your bedroom door open slowly, popping his head in. “Hey, kiddo.”

You halfheartedly smiled up at him. “Listen. I know you won’t be too happy about this, but I think it’s only polite if you sleep on the couch tonight.”

You paused your movement before pushing your magazine away and sitting up. “What? Why would I do that?” 

“Hop should sleep in a bed. You’re still young, you can handle sleeping on the couch for one night.”

“But dad,” you whined. 

“I don’t want to hear it.” He sighed. “I only want to be nice to our guest. Com’on, sweetie. Do your old man a favor.”

You couldn’t help but break into a smile. You stifled it down. “Fine.” Your dad grinned and winked at you before leaving again. 

Your stomach felt all funny inside. Hopper was going to be sleeping in your bed…

You quickly shot out of your bed and begin shoving your dirty clothes sprawled on the floor into your hamper and stuffed your loose papers inside your desk drawers. You tried to put everything away that might be embarrassing. As you were closing your bureau draw, you paused. You pulled out one of your pink panties and hid it so it was on the floor beside your bed. Maybe Hopper would see it. You smirked, a little tingle running through you at this dangerous game you were playing. 

You made your way down the hall to take a shower, staring at yourself in the steam-filled mirror. Your face was red from the hot water. You wrapped your towel tightly around your body and peered out of the bathroom door. You paused, listening for a moment. You didn’t hear your dad or Jim so you assumed they must still be outside. You crept down the hallway and slipped into your bedroom. As you stepped inside you jumped. Jim was there, sitting on your bed. You felt your cheeks warm, your arms quickly trying to cover your body more than your towel was allowing.

“Hopper…” you said exasperated. 

Hopper’s eyes trailed your exposed legs glistening from the moisture. The towel clung to your body, emphasizing the curve of your hips. Hopper cleared his throat before standing up. “Was just checking out my room for the night.” He looked at you as he walked closer. You backed away slightly. “You got a lot of stuffed animals in here.” You could hear the teasing in his voice. 

“So?” you whined. 

Jim smiled, clearly happy with the way he was flustering you. “Just an observation.” You could practically hear the grin on his face as he spoke. He slipped past you, whispering as he did, “The panties were a nice touch.” Your eyes widened. When you turned to look at him, he was already making his way down the hall. Shit, you knew that was a bad idea. Hopper may have stolen glances at you from time to time, but this was the first vocalized interest in you. And he knew you wanted it.

You quickly shut your door and let out a breath. You felt a warm feeling pool between your thighs. You felt dirty from the way Hopper was eyeing you. After taking a moment to steady yourself, you grinned. 

You were sweating as you laid, tucked in a warm blanket, while you tried to sleep on the couch. You huffed and looked up at the clock: 11:34 

Almost midnight and you still hadn’t fallen asleep. 

You got up and made your way to the bathroom, stretching your arms as you went. You halted outside your door as you were passing, hearing groans coming from the other side. 

Like an inexperienced idiot, you immediately thought Hopper must be having a nightmare, or maybe he’d hurt himself. You pushed open the door. “Hop—“ You were faced with Hopper relaxed on your bed, his shirt bunching up, his pants lazily unbuttoned, his hand stroking his thick cock, and your panties in his other hand. 

Your eyes almost fell out of your head, your face hotter than fire in embarrassment. 

Oh my god. Hopper is jacking off on MY bed.

You weren’t sure if you should be disgusted, flattered, turned on, or offended. The rush of emotions must have displayed perfectly on your face because Hopper stood up and pushed the door closed behind you, his body looming over you. His hands were on either side of your head against the wall, his pants still undone but his dick hidden back in his underwear to much of your relief… and dissatisfaction.

“Don’t act like you didn’t leave those for me to see,” he grumbled, referring to your discarded underwear. You gulped. “You knew what you were doing, little brat.” You gulped at the way his nickname for you had felt different in this context.

Hopper’s hand stroked your jaw, your body flinching at first. 

“No. I…” Your words got lost as Hopper’s dark eyes pierced you.

“No, hm? Fine, leave if that’s what you want.” Hopper backed away from you, buttoning his jeans as he slid back onto your bed. 

You stood there, your legs glued to the floor. Hopper looked up at you, raising a cocky brow. “So the little brat wants to play.” He whispered matter-of-factly, his voice was so deep that it came out in low rumbles. You felt a wave of warmth swim straight to your core. 

Hopper’s eyes flickered down as saw the way your thighs squeezed together, a smirk being drawn out across his lips. 

You were only covered by your oversized t-shirt that stopped about mid-thigh. Hopper was so grateful it was so damn hot out. 

He motioned for you to come to him. You hesitated, but eventually, you moved your feet so you were a foot in front of him. 

“I was thinkin’ bout you, you know.” 

Your thighs pressed together harder, your arousal surely dripping through your panties.

“Do you do that often? Think of me?”

He smirked, his large hands coming to grab your thighs which billowed out around his fingers. He nodded slightly. “I think bout you all the time. Thinkin’ bout all the ways I could ruin you.” His voice was soft as he leaned into you, placing a kiss on your clothed belly. Your hands immediately went into his hair, your fingers pulling at him slightly. Your body reacted to his touch before you even had time to think.

Hopper’s hands snaked upwards and pushed your shirt up so he could see your waist and soaked panties. He kissed you again, your t-shirt bunched in his hand, his lips now kissing your skin below your navel. You gulped as he moved further down, his mustache tickling you. 

He pulled back and looked up at you, your eyes wide with lust. “Gotta be quiet. Can't wake your old man.” You felt shame fill you when you remember just what was happening. Your dad’s closest friend that you’ve known since you were a child, was currently feeling you up–saying dirty things like how he has thought about you while getting off so many times–all while your dad was sleeping a few doors down. 

“Hop, I don’t think—“Your words were cut off with a gasp. Hopper could see your hesitation so he stroked you through your underwear, making you realize just how bad you wanted this. Wanted him.

“You were saying?” He asked sweetly as he slid your frilled underwear to the side and moved his finger along your soaking slit. 

Your grip tightened in Hopper’s hair, your head falling back in pleasure. Your earlier thoughts drifting away. 

Hopper pushed one of his fingers in, making you stifle a moan. “God. I’ve waited so long to know what you’d sound like.” Hopper removed his finger from you resulting in your face pouting. He quickly slid your panties down and you kicked them off. “Get on the damn bed,” he growled. 

You crawled on top of your comforter, your shirt riding up and exposing your bare lower half. 

Hopper shoved his jeans off and then was resting his body between your legs. He grabbed the hem of your shirt and you lifted your arms so he could take it off. “That’s a good girl,” he cooed as he watched your chest be revealed to him. 

Hopper leaned down and placed kisses along the swell of your breasts before sucking one of your nipples into his mouth. You groaned, biting on your nails to try and stifle your obscene sounds. 

“You ever been with a man?” He asked as he switched to give your other nipple attention. His left hand came up and groped your left breast. 

It was hard for you to speak. “N-No.” 

Hopper grinned, biting your bud softly before pulling away. He almost came hearing the fact that you were a virgin. You were going to be so goddamn tight. 

Hopper’s cock throbbed painfully in his underwear. He finally pulled it out, grinding his hips into you so his cock dragged along your clit. 

You didn’t mean to moan as loud as you did, Hopper’s hand swiftly coming up to cover your mouth. “Shh,” he insisted. 

Hopper rubbed against you a dozen more times, your eyes already rolling to the back of your head. Your hands squeezed your bed sheets, trying your hardest not to get any louder. 

“Ready for me?” He asked, even though he didn’t really care if you said yes or no. 

You nodded, biting your lip and looking down between your bodies as Hopper lined the tip of his dick up with your entrance. He slowly began to push in, your head flew back into the mattress, grunts getting lodged in your throat. It stung painfully, but at the same time, you wanted to buck your hips up into him. It was torturous how slowly he filled you. Your walls pressed against him in resistance, making Hopper grunt himself.

“Fucking hell, baby.” The end of Hopper’s sentence rose in octave as he bottomed out. 

You let out a panting sigh as Hopper held himself still inside you, finally filling you up. 

Hopper slowly pulled out of you, a sharp hiss leaving your lips. Your eyes closed as you tried to focus on something other than the twitches of pain between your legs. Hopper leaned forward and left kisses on the side of your neck, his mustache tickling you again. “You’re doing so good for me,” he mumbled into your hair. 

“You’re… so… big,” you said through exasperated breaths. One of Hopper’s hands slid into your hair, surely messing it up. He began to rock his hips against you in a gradual rhythm. 

Hopper could feel you pulsating around his cock, he growled low in his throat. “So fucking tight,” he babbled as he filled you. As he continued to rut into you, he realized your time was fleeting. Your damn bed moved along with his body, squeaking rather loudly. Your dad was sure to hear if he kept it up. It definitely crossed his mind to keep going–to pick up speed even–not giving a shit if your dad walked in. Hopper wanted nothing more than to chase this high. But that idea soon got pushed down again. Hopper stopped and you looked up at him with your fucking doll eyes. “Why’d you stop?” You asked, somewhat out of breath. Hopper grinned. How were you even out of breath? He was the one doing all the work. 

“Beds too loud,” he said. He slid out of you with a sting to your crotch. You squeezed your legs together, eyes locked on Hopper as he shifted his way to the floor. He even pondered dragging you out to his truck so he could fuck you in there, but he decided the floor would have to do.

“Well?” 

Startled, you stood up and met Hopper on the ground, his back pressed against the wall. Oh, shit. Did he want you to get on top? On your first time?! 

“I don’t know about…” 

Hopper cut you off before you could finish. “It’s alright.” He smirked at you, his hands gripping your hips and pulling you on top of him. “I’ll guide you through it.” He kissed your cheek and your face warmed. You aligned yourself, your knees on each side of Hopper’s thighs. One of his hands helped line himself back up with you, the other one squeezing your waist. “That’s it.” He encouraged. Hopper intently watched you, your cute mannerisms piquing his interest. Your face contorted, biting your lip, as you slid down on him. Your hands grabbed his shoulders for balance. Hopper’s hands now both roamed the side of your body, bringing your attention back to him. 

You began bouncing, drawing out your every move, trying to warm up. “Is this good?” You asked, looking at him.

Hopper’s hips bucked up slightly in response, a gasp escaping you. “Fucking perfect.” 

You rode him with more confidence, sliding on top of him with far less resistance now. Almost no sound was being made except for the connecting of your bodies and the sounds of both of your moans. 

You were constricting him as his cock throbbed against your walls. He wasn’t going to last much longer, your tight body basically forcing the orgasm out of him. Hopper’s head leaned against the wall, lazily watching you. One of his fingers moved to your clit, dragging it in slow circles. You squeaked, the new sensation making you bite your tongue. So many little sounds were being dragged out of you now. “Sound so pretty,” he mumbled in pleasure. 

As you were chasing your own high, you began to rock your hips back and forth, Hopper hitting you at a new angle. “Shit,” Hopper groaned, not expecting the switch in your confidence. Your moans sent Hopper over the edge, not having enough time to pull out of you before he came. 

You cried in pleasure as you followed close behind with the help of his circling thumb, your body tightly pulsating around his cock. You felt his warm seed explode into you and squelch out of your body. You were too cockdrunk to fully process what was happening, all you wanted was to extend your high as long as possible.

Hopper had to keep from groaning loudly, his voice a deep growl in his throat as he bucked his hips up, expelling himself into you further. 

Hopper watched as you used his cock to ride out your orgasm, messily rocking against him, your eyes shut, in another world completely. 

When you finally slowed, you collapsed forward onto his chest. Hopper wrapped his arms around you, catching his breath. “Always surprising me.”

You took a few deep breaths then looked up at him, your face lined with beads of sweat. “What?” You asked exasperated. 

“Didn’t expect you to use my dick like it wasn’t attached to anything, but solely there for your pleasure,” he teased. 

You felt embarrassed, just as surprised as he was at your sudden horny boost of confidence. He grinned. “It was hot,” he concluded. 

After you both got dressed, you felt a sudden wave of regret. Now that your mind wasn’t goop from the fire between your thighs, you could think clearly. What did this mean: fucking your dad’s friend? Someone who is over all the time. How were you going to hide this? Was Hopper going to want to fuck you again? What if you didn’t want to?

Before you could open your mouth to vocalize some of your panicky concerns, you heard your dad walking down the hall. Your door had slightly opened, just enough for your dead to hear movement. “You still up, hun?” He asked, moving to push your door open.

“Just had to use the bathroom,” You said with more haste than you meant to. Your dad’s hand fell back to his side. “Alright. Night then.” You heard him close the bathroom door. 

You looked up at Hopper behind you with big eyes. “Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!” You hissed. 

Hopper rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe he’d forget by morning.” Of course, Hopper was referring to the fact that your dad was too sleepy to remember Hopper was staying in your room, and you were supposed to be sleeping on the couch. It might click by the time he wakes up that it was you who answered him through your bedroom door, not Hopper. Neither of you were sure what you were going to do, but for some reason, it made your thighs pool with desire again. 

[that-one-random-writer]

City Of Love Part 2 [Complete]

Kind of an AU drabble multi part words:

Summary: You are a famous fashion designer, Jake is an actor. You style Jake for a photoshoot for his cover on Vogue magazine. It set you up for a night in Paris. Word count: 1,251

Warnings: 18+ for language and NSFW content This is very 2000s inspired.

Part 1 Part 3 My Masterlist

Your foyer has a delicate table in the center holding a gorgeous vase with a fresh floral arrangement. Your housekeepers had just finished their routine. You step across the marble floors, aiming for the hardwood of the dressing room. "Navi dear, help me with my outfit, then you can go home for the night."

Navi followed you to your dressing room. You had texted Jake just before arriving, and he confirmed the date. "So, what are we thinking for tonight?" He questioned while flicking through the hangers. "I'm thinking couture from the 'summer's night in Paris' collection." You briefed your assistant on your plans.

"Fabulous darling. Maybe a string of pearls, sophistication, classy." You waved your hand. "Too old, and the stripe pattern clashes with the shape of the pearls." He agreed and continued looking. "Black choker, with the ankle strapped stilettos?"

Your lips curled into a soft grin. "Simple luxury."

He held his hand out. As if telling you to wait. "For the bag saint laurent, Cassandre Matelassé chain wallet in Grain De Poudre embossed leather." You clapped your hands together with a scream of joy.

"Navi, you are mon amour." My love. He bowed and grabbed the items, setting them aside for you to get dressed. "Go home and get some much needed rest." You smile happily, pushing him from towards the door. He waves goodbye and slips out the door, using his key to lock up the front.

You dressed into the newest pair of lingerie. A red lacy set from Jane's Vanity. You slipped on a simple pair of black leather pants with a black and nude striped bodice style top. Your choker is clasped tightly, with your stilettos clasped on tighter. You checked the time and texted your chauffeur. You clacked down the hall, turning your lights off.

Your chauffeur opened the door, and you stepped in the car, getting comfortable. Your thoughts were on the actor. The way he looked at you. Your bottom lip fell between your teeth. His body was so chiseled and perfectly sculpted. Jake definitely had the confidence to back it. Your mind swirled him into positions above you, below you, and beside you.

Your door opened, and flashes of paparazzi cameras pulled you from your thoughts. You put sunglasses over your eyes to help with the flashing, then grabbed the hand that had been offered. You found Jake pulling you from the car. You stood beside him, and you linked your arm to his placing your opposite hand against his bicep.

His outfit must have been chosen from his stylist. His top was left open three buttons down with his sleeves rolled up showing off his muscular arms. His pants were pleated at the top with a black and thin gold stripe down the legs in a pattern.

His hair was styled perfect without a hair out of place. You smiled up at him, and you were absolutely positive that these photos would be on a magazine cover somewhere.

You both were welcomed by the waiter.

"Bonsoir, your reservation s'il te plaît?" Good evening, please.

Jake smiled politely at the waiter. "Jake seresin."

The waiter looked over the list. "Merci, follow me." Thank you. He instructed, then led you both to a table for two. The table is covered with red linen and a small candle lit in the middle. "mon nom est Louis. I will give you some time to look over the menu. Chef Jean is honored to serve you both tonight." My name is. He bowed.

"Merci, Louis." You spoke up before turning your attention to the menu. "Have you ever been here before?" You glanced up at Jake. He was looking over the menu himself. "No, I haven't, I'm assuming you have?"

You sat down the menu. "Oui, Chef Jean was voted for GQs chef of the year a few years ago. He is one of the best in the world." Yes.

Jake lifted his eyes. "What do you recommend?"

Your fingers trailed across your menu. "The seabream, or the poached cod. Both are incredible."

"Which wine do you think is the best?" He glanced at the wine menu.

"Do you want my honest answer, or do you want my 'being considerate on a first date' answer?" Your voice playful but had notes of sincerity.

"Always Honest..." He trailed, looking up from the menu, meeting your eyes.

"The 1994 Montrachet, it has aromas of deep mineral spice with hints of orange blossoms and star anise. It pairs so nicely with the fish."

Jake smiles politely as Louis reaches the table. "Ladies first." Louis glances in your direction. "I'll have the seabream." He nodded, writing it down. "Yes ma'am and for you, Monsieur?" Sir.

"I'll have the poached cod. Could I get a bottle of the 1994 Montrachet as well, please?"

"Of course." He wrote down the order, took the menus, then bowed dismissing himself to the wine cellar.

"Jake, you don't have to do that. That bottle is ten thousand dollars." You crossed your leg over the other.

Jake smiled the famous smile with his laugh lines lifted and perfect teeth shining under the dim candle light, saying cooly, "I got it." As if he were talking about a ten dollar morning cup of coffee.

You nodded, your eyes never leaving his. Your lips mimicking his in a smile. "What is your favorite wine?"

"I'm not much of a wine man. I prefer beer." He chuckled, leaning back comfortably in his seat.

"You can take the man out of America but can't take the American out of the man." You giggled softly.

"No, you really can't. So tell me about yourself? What is life like for a French fashion designer?" He spoke with his drawl. It thickened just the slightest.

"I am working on a few pieces right now. Fashion week is going to be soon, so Paris is going to be full of life in a few months. What about an American actor? What is your life like?" You rest your arm on the table.

"I just got done filming a new movie, so I've got a premiere coming soon." His body shifting comfortably in pride of his accomplishments.

"I've seen the previews it looks good. You looked really good in it." You leaned forward, emphasizing how you really meant his topless scenes were a part of your enthusiasm.

He chuckled with a smirk poking through. "You think so."

"Absolutely. I got to see the real thing in person. The live version of you undressing was impressive." You eyes traveled down to his lips. Then, back to his sea foam eyes.

"I bet a live of you undressing would be even better." His suggestive tone was quite alluring.

"I can't disagree with you. I've walked a few Victoria Secret shows. I don't normally do a show for free, but I really would like to reenact the sex scene in your new movie. That one position seemed very interesting." Your voice held such power and foward behavior.

Jake's eyebrows lifted, his smirk raised. "I think we can work something out." He tried so desperately to hold himself together. Jake wanted nothing more than to push every delicate, expensive item off the table, disregarding every peice of polished silverware and pick you up, slam you on the table and take you right there, but he held himself together.

The sudden shift in sexual conversation was turning you both on. Neither one of you wanted to sit through dinner anymore, but the food had finally made its way to the table, so the suffering teases had begun.

[limmastyles]

My theory is that the stunt was supposed to be over during tour. I think Italy was the last leg of it and they were going to use the tour as an excuse and how she was too busy with her kids and work to be with him all the time. I think what happened was Jason‘s GQ article came out and exposed Olivia but also don’t worry darlings prescreeners weren’t doing well. We know that they’re prescreeners happened right before tour started and my theory is that we were supposed to get the official trailer in September and the movie was supposed to come out in spring summer. When the reviews for the pre-screeners were a bad Warner Bros. decided that the movie had to come out at a later date a.k.a. September so it had a chance to do well. If it came out in spring and summer it would’ve done badly and if it came out any later other movies would’ve overshadowed it. I think that Olivia couldn’t let the stunt end a year before the movie came out because people would have forgotten about it and Then Warner Bros. probably gave hairy more money or Olivia’s team and renegotiated the terms to get him to extend it. I don’t think it was supposed to last this long and you can tell by how her vogue cover came out at such a weird time when she had nothing to promote and nothing really happening that was the biggest indicator that this movie was supposed to come out in spring summer and we were supposed to get the official trailer and it never came out so we just got the teaser. I think that Warner Bros. pressed Olivia because of the fact that she could loose them $40 million and if she doesn’t make it back she’s fucked. Olivia‘s job is to make sure that this movie gets $40 million in the box office. Anything else she gets a cut of and so does Harry. She seems to be getting more desperate because the conversation around Harry’s movies isn’t around don’t worry darling everyone’s talking about my policeman. It’s the thing that people are the most excited to see in his Fanbase and the general public. The pre-screeners were fantastic and everything went to plan. This movie is going to do well. Not to mention it’s a streaming service movie so it doesn’t have to make a certain amount of money and that’s not what the Director have to worry about. So she’s doing everything she can to take the attention off of my policeman and put it on don’t worry darling but what she doesn’t realize is that it puts everyone off. Majority of his Fanbase Are more excited to see my policeman then don’t worry darling and she’s not happy about it. DWD has had 5-7 pre screener and they have all been bad so she is doing everything She can to get the conversation around her and hairy and don’t worry darling so that this movie can do somewhat well. I don’t think it was supposed to last this long and I don’t think Harry thought it was going to last this long but I think his team were given an offer that they couldn’t refuse and a fuck ton of money and that’s the only reason why he still doing it.

I LOVE YOU!

[silvazemybeloved]

Stranded - Chapter One

Synopsis: A zombie apocalypse has broken out! What happens when the only way to survive is through the waters across the town? What will happen to Sonic if he can’t keep up? Read Stranded to find out! Use the tag [ #sml sonic stranded ] to find the rest of the story!

A beautiful day in Möbius was ruined as news broke out about an unknown scientist's experiment that failed and caused havoc across the whole continent and its cities. Loud roars of crowds running to their houses to take cover so they don't become turned, fires being lit by the gas stations around just to try and block a few of the straggling flesh-eating Möbians who were once their friends now dead, and alarms going off to try and flee those who still have no idea what their lives are being turned into around them. A cobalt blue hero watches as the town rips itself apart bit by bit in horror, but tries to keep a strong face for a smaller boy with two tails next to him.

"Sonic... what do we do?" Tails, the nickname of the boy who stands next to the blue hedgehog, questions.

"I have no clue. We have to get back to our homes and build some type of base, though. I'm not about to do this alone and have everyone in fear." The man named Sonic sighs and Tails nods.

"We could use my workshop, I don't mind. It has a lockdown mode as well as camouflage. I installed the camouflage the last time Eggman tried to take the chaos emeralds and one of my newest inventions."

"Great thinking. Let's find Knuckes and Amy, then we will send out a message to everyone to bring them to the base."

"Let's go!" Tails grabs Sonic's arms to give them an aerial view of the city.

About five minutes later, they notice a pink hedgehog slamming the faces of zombies in with her trusty hammer. Tails flies Sonic in and he does a spin attack around the zombies in their way. Tails knocks down a couple with his latest invention, the F90-Drill, and destroys a couple of more around him. They are aware that these were people who were alive in their city, but what are they supposed to do? Be turned into one?

"Sonic! Tails!" Amy smiles as she runs to him and Tails. "I'm so glad to see you two are unharmed. Have either of you found anyone else yet?"

"No, you are the first one we've ran into. We wanted to start the search with you and Knuckles, then send everyone to get resources to bring back to our base, which is going to be my workshop." Tails sighs and Amy nods.

"Well, at least we found each other. I think I saw Rouge flying around here not even an hour ago, but I don't think she saw me..."

"Your attire does look a little different than usual, so maybe she thought you were someone else." Tails mentions and Amy nods. It is a different look for her. A long black top with khaki long pants and black combat boots. She wants to fit in a little more and not be a bright-colored target for the zombies to start chasing her when she's trying to sneak around. Her hair is tied up in a ponytail and on her hands there are black fingerless gloves instead of her white gloves.

"I just hope that Knucklehead hasn't gotten into too much trouble while we were away." Sonic groans and a rock gets thrown at his head. "HEY!" He looks into the direction where it was thrown from and he smirks slyly.

"I heard that." Knuckles, the man of the hour with long red dreads tied out of his face and spikes on his knuckles walks up to the group. His attire looks a little different as well, with more black than usual, like Amy's. Wanting to not stand out as much with his red fur, he put on a black t-shirt and black pants with boots as well.

"Yeah, I got that. Nice fit, dude, trying to get on the cover of Vogue?" Sonic tries his best to get under the echidna's thick skin, but alas, it's like trying to eat a hotdog without the chili.

"They tried to put me on the cover of Vogue... but my legs were too long." Knuckles poses, which sends Amy into a fit of laughter, Tails following shortly after and Sonic rolls his eyes.

"Look, I'm glad we all got this reunion, but we have to get going or we're going to be zombie food, and I've heard hedgehog soup isn't that tasty." Sonic groans, and no one laughs at his quip.

"You're falling short, no one found that one funny." Knuckles chortles.

"I'm stressed. Leave me be." Sonic dusts off his shoes and gets ready to run to Tails's workshop, but stops for a second. He reaches his hand out to Amy and smiles ever-so-slightly. "Those combat boots don't look like the easiest to run in, would you like a lift, m'lady?"

"Never call me that again, and yes, after a while. Thank you for thinking of me." Amy smiles and takes his hand and he lifts her up and starts running through the abandoned town.

"Now that makes me want to call you that even more." Sonic chuckles and Amy rolls her eyes.

"You're the bane of my existence."

"And you're heavy."

"SONICCCC!!!"

"HAHAHA! I SWEAR IT WAS A JOKE!! Amy.. it was a joke. AMY NO!"

The four of them find themselves at Tails's workshop in record time. Tails hits a button on his wrist and the door opens, then he shuts it and turns on the building's camouflage mode. This mode makes the area disappear and look like a hill instead of the workshop. If anyone was to try and come in or destroy the hill, there is a barrier around it that is tougher than anything Dr. Eggman has ever built in his life, and he's a 'doctor'.

"Okay, I think I know where Shadow, Rouge, Blaze and Silver are. I'll start there." Sonic mentions and they nod their heads. Bringing Shadow in? It sounds like a recipe for disaster, but he would be a valuable asset and they aren't just going to let their friend die like that.

"I believe Cream and Vanilla are still at their house. They have The Chaotix protecting the area. That's where I was before I went out to fight. I can grab them." Amy suggests and Tails nods.

"I'll start foraging and bring anyone that we don't know the location of." Knuckles punches his fists together.

"On three?" Amy smiles. They all put their hands in the middle.

"One... two... three!! OPERATION: KILL A BUNCH OF ZOMBIES AND KEEP EVERYONE ALIVE!| SAVING OUR FRIENDS! | TEAM SONIC! | TEAM KNUCKLES!"

"... We probably should've decided on what we were going to say before we did that." Amy groans and they laugh. Tails unlocks the workshop and the three of them leave. He stays inside to update all of the technology in the area.

[mugzymiik]

the legs go all the way up pyrare

they tried to put him on the cover of vogue. but his legs were TOOOOO LOOOONGGG

[nationalharryleague]

Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that. 

Genre: Famous Fake Dating! 

Word Count: 17.1k!

Pinterest Board

A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries​) and Lu (@meetmymouth​) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N  looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.  

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.  

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.  

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.  

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!! 

An extra for our babies can be found here!

[astaroth1357]

I don’t know if this’ll make the cut, but brothers with an MC wearing their (the brothers) clothes, and I’m talking full ensemble not just a random jacket or accessory (you can delete if you’re not comfortable of course)

So when left with the question of whether this was a full on clothing theft or a cosplay of some kind, I'm going with theft because that's just funnier to me. Just a little MC marching around in Beel's tent of an outfit… Hilarious. 🤭

MC Steals the Brothers’ Outfits

Lucifer 

It started out like any other morning, Lucifer woke up early in bed - as he always does - but when he rolled onto his side to stir the MC, he found their side of the bed empty… 

Normally, he’d have thrown up the alarm in an instant, but his mind was still groggy as he tried to recall what happened the night before… He could have sworn the MC slept over… unless…

MC: “Good morning, love.”

Their voice was enough to get him sitting up again and he uh… well he was not prepared for what he saw. The MC was sitting with their legs crossed at his desk, attempting to imitate his “I’m-in-Complete-Control-Here” energy as much as they possibly could, but with an added detail…

They were wearing his clothes. His favorite suit to be specific which was tailored to his much bigger frame, resulting in a frankly ridiculously ill-fitting look on their smaller human body...

MC: *picks up a poisoned apple off the desk, continuing their very best Lucifer-impression*  “You should get up, love. We have an early meeting today and we can’t keep Lord Diavolo waiting.”

The MC appeared to polish the apple with his sleeve for a moment before taking a bite, looking pleased with themselves before their eyes widened in complete horror. It only took a split second for them to spit the unchewed hunk of apple into a nearby waste basket and toss the apple away in panic.

MC: “Ah FUCK!! I forgot I can’t eat these!!! SHIT!!”

Their panic only grew as Lucifer could no longer hold in his laughter, the booming volume of which is enough to wake up all his brothers throughout the House.

MC: “Lucifer, don’t just sit there laughing!! Bring me some water or something!!! LUCIFER!!!”

Mammon

Look, Mammon always gets up late so not being able to find, like, any of his normal clothes was a serious problem! He’d already dug through half his closest and still couldn’t find anything!!

He had a photoshoot that he had to get to in less than hour and he still needed to take a shower, get dressed, get his stuff together, then bolt halfway across town before-

MC: *literally kicks open his door Kuzco-style* “Yo, yo, yo!! What’s up, Mammon??”

First off, the sudden loud bang of his door hitting the wall nearly scared him out of his skin, but before he could even yell at the MC for their weird entrance his brain had to process what they were wearing….

Good news! He found his missing clothes, the MC had thrown them on while he was sleeping - sunglasses and all - and now stood before him with a toothy grin on their face.

MC: “What's the problem, Mams? Lucifer got your tongu-EEEK!”

Apparently, they weren't expecting Mammon to literally lunge at them and capture them in a tight hug, practically lifting them off their feet with a laugh.

Mammon: “What'cha think your doin', MC?? I'm gonna need those back ya know?”

MC: *laughs loud and bright, throwing their arms around his neck* “I know, I know... But I wanted to surprise you!” *stops laughing suddenly and blinks* “Huh…”

Mammon watched the MC experimentally lift his glasses off their nose then put them back down, repeating the action several times before snickering.

Mammon: *frowns* “What's so funny?”

MC: “Nothing really but… Mammon, do you wear these just to make everything look like gold?”

Mammon actually had to pause before responding, pulling the MC closer with a devilish grin.

Mammon: “Nah… I ‘cause got all the gold I need right here~”

MC: *chuckles and nuzzles his cheek* “Nice save...”

Mammon: *his cheeks flush and he frowns* “I dunno what your talkin’ about... But could ya go put on a t-shirt or somethin’? They’re paying me big for this shoot and I really gotta go!”

Leviathan 

Another convention, another cosplay far too complex to ever hope to peel out of… Though Levi would never regret wearing his five piece Lord of Shadow cosplay, it’s a heavy thing and certainly not something he can change out of in a bathroom stall…

When he finally got back to the House, he wasn’t looking to do anything but drag his tired body back to his room and change into some more manageable clothes… but… well…

When Levi opened his door, he saw the MC sitting alone at his computer desk playing a game by themselves. That was all well and good but… WHY IN DIAVOLO’S BLACK HELL ARE THEY WEARING HIS CLOTHES???

When they heard the door, the MC whipped their head back and they both stared at each other in an awkward silence… His clothes didn’t even fit them right!-or maybe they did?? His mind was panicking because they had the collar of his shirt covering their mouth and it looked so moe it was actually ridiculous!

Levi: ……….

MC: ………….

MC: …. “I can explain.”

Levi: ……. “Y-yea?”

MC: “I was having trouble on this one level and you wouldn’t pick up the phone… so I thought ‘What would Levi do?’... and it escalated…”

Levi: “You think??”

Levi felt like he could die right there, but he wasn’t entirely sure if it was from embarrassment or happiness… On the one hand, the MC was  literally trying to be him in order to get better at video games - which was flatteringly adorable… And on the other, the MC is pretty much cosplaying as him, right in front of him… and looked so damn cute doing it too… 

MC: “Is this weird…? This is weird. I’m sorry, I’ll go change-”

Levi: NO-agh! *he throws a hand over his own mouth, surprised by how loud he just shouted* … “U-uh… no it’s fine…”

MC: “Okay...?”

MC: “But could you put your phone down? I think you’ve been taking pictures for the past two minutes…”

Levi looked down at his hand and sure enough he unconsciously pulled out his phone in camera mode and has been spamming the “Capture” button long enough to have his thumb cramping...

Levi: “Oh.” *stops for a moment, then seems to second guess himself*

Levi: “Uh… just one more?”

Satan

When you share a house with Mammon, you grow accustomed to not being able to find things from time to time, but an entire outfit?? 

When he woke up one morning to find that he couldn't find any of his normal clothes, he blamed Mammon right off the bat… 

I guess in hindsight, what would Mammon want with his jacket? But anger doesn't always jump to the most rational conclusion, you know?

After searching for "long enough," Satan stormed out of his bedroom on a warpath. He didn't stop his march until he was banging on Mammon’s door with a closed fist!

Satan: “Mammon!! What did you do with my clothes you useless, money-grubbing asshole!?”

When he didn’t get a reply, likely because Mammon was hiding in his closet or something, he was about to kick the door in when he felt a tap on his shoulder...

When he turned his head, much to his surprise, he found his missing clothes!... They were on the MC - right down to the single sleeve - and the MC met his eyes with a mischievous grin…

They had a book in their hands he recalled seeing once at the library: "101 Ways to Prank Your Partner," open like they'd been reading down the hallway.

MC: … Page 47.

They winked at him before bolting back down the hallway in a fit of giggles and oooh, it was on now.

Satan spent the morning chasing the MC through the House, both laughing and dashing around in reckless abandon. He really needed his clothes back and he wouldn’t mind an extra hour or two with the MC when he got them… 😏

Asmodeus 

Asmo isn’t exactly a morning person… Though he forces himself awake so he can perform his wake-up routine, by the time he comes to the table it’s a hit-or-miss on how irritable he’s going to be...

Of course, his favorite outfit suddenly disappearing from his massive closet did not help his mood in the slightest!

Who would take his clothes?? Well, that’s not even a question - surely plenty of his devoted, adoring stans would kill to even have his scarf, so maybe the better question was, “How??” Lucifer keeps all the doors and windows magically sealed at night! (He would know, having been locked out on numerous occasions)

Asmo was tearing through his closet, wracking his brain for any place he might have left his beloved outfit, before he heard someone clear their throat by his bedroom door.

What greeted him was a lovely look at the MC wearing the missing clothing in question, even with all the grace and style he would himself!

Asmo: *jaw-drops* “MC???”

MC: *smirks at his delight and winks at him* “Looking for something?”

They strutted into the room with the confidence of a mock fashion model and took a silly vogue pose in front of the closet, barely holding in a fit of laughter from their actions.

MC: “… Or just at me?”

Asmo, of course, snatched them right up in his arms with a delighted squeal.

Asmo: “Oh. My. Diavolo!! MC, you look just gorgeous!!!- Because you look like me, of course.” 🤭

MC: *laughs and cups his cheeks to pull him closer* “Who wouldn't want to be you, Asmo?”

Asmo: “So true… But you’re already perfect, my love~” 😘

And he went on to prove that to them all morning long...

Beelzebub 

Beel didn't even get the chance to notice his clothes were missing. He had a tournament the night before and was sleeping even harder than Belphie that morning...

What woke him up was the smell of food: scrambled shadowhawk eggs, hellboar bacon, pancakes with nightshade syrup…. 

Beel's stomach had him sitting up long before his eyes ever opened, drawn in by his nose alone.

MC: “Beeeeel. Wake up!”

Beel's eyes dragged open at their request and what he found had his mouth watering... The MC had brought him a dining cart with a complete breakfast spread, brimming with portions only Beel could ever finish, but for once he wasn’t looking at the food.

The MC, for whatever reason, had decided to put on his clothes… And keep in mind that Beel's built like an ox compared to almost anybody. They were absolutely swimming under all that fabric (thank the Devil for his suspenders…) 

MC: “Congratulations!!!”

They throw their arms up excitedly, making the unzipped jacket balloon out like a parachute behind them… It's a remarkably cute image.

Beel: *blinks* “Oh.” *he gets a little pink, still very confused* “What did I do exactly…?”

MC: “You won the championship last night, remember? Or did you forget already??”

The MC takes a step to the side and begins pointing at the plates on the cart.

MC: “I thought we'd celebrate with some breakfast! I brought you eggs, bacon, pancakes, toast, cereal-”

As they continued their list, Beel's hand naturally reached out towards the cart eagerly, before something finally clicked in his head. WHY were they wearing his clothes??

Beel: “Wait. MC, why are you wearing-...?”

MC *holds their hand up* “Hold on!”

MC: “-oatmeal, muffins, banana bread, annnd…” *they get onto the bed and plop down onto his lap with a grin*

MC: “Me! Congratulations, Beel!!”

They lean up to peck his cheek while his arms automatically wind around their waist. The combination of their scents already bringing out a different sort of hunger in him…

Let’s say if this is his reward, he'll never lose a game again. 😏

Belphegor 

Belphie was in the middle of his afterschool nap in the library. The day was exhausting, so he didn’t even bother changing uniforms… The couches there were comfortable and the space was quiet, really nothing should have woken him up...

But somehow, for whatever reason, something did. A tug… Something was chasing away his dreams by tugging on the cow pillow in his arms.

MC: “Beeelllppphie….”

The tugging did not cease and he half growled in response, still keeping his eyes firmly closed.

Belphie: “What now...?”

MC: “I need this…” *they tug on the corner of the pillow a little harder* “Can you let go please…?”

What kind of question is that?? No one takes away his favorite pillow!

Belphie: *hugs the pillow tighter* “Go away, I'm trying to nap…”

MC: “Noooo please…! I need it for something right now…!!”

They started really pulling on his pillow now and he only held on tighter in annoyance. Since they wouldn’t leave him alone, he finally opened his eyes.

Belphie: “MC! Why are… you..?”

His voice trailed off as he finally saw the MC standing there in his usual outfit. His cardigan was so long over their arms that they had to grasp his pillow through its sleeves...

While his drowsy mind tried to catch up, the MC snatched the pillow from his grasp with one swift yank.

MC: *grins* “Mine now!”

They turned to bolt out of the library, but Belphie snatched them by the waist and dragged them back to the couch with him.

Belphie: “Fine, but then I get a new pillow.” 😏

The MC yelped as he flopped on top of them, pulling them close like a body pillow and resting his head into the crook of their neck to enjoy the soothing smell of their scent mixed with his.

MC: “W-wait Belphie…!” *tries to wiggle out from under his surprisingly heavy deadweight* “I was just playing around…! Please don't fall asleep on me!!”

Belphie: *yawns and settles in, already drifting off* “Too late… G'night, MC…”

MC: “Belphie!!!” 😫

They could complain all they liked, he wasn’t going to let them go for a few hours. Cute or not, MC, nobody takes his pillow!

[duuhrayliegh]

europe - request

pairing: sebastian stan x singer!reader (seb!pov)

summary: singer!reader writes another song, this one is about seb

warnings: suggestive content (*wink wonk*), language, the works ya know

a/n: this took so long bc im not lyrically inclined and there isn’t even that many lyrics in here. i can’t even guys this was a nice break though. i liked the concept, i hope i lived up to your dreams. :)

p.s.: my requests and tag lists are both open loves!

check out my other writing on my full m.list

Sebastian was doing a press interview for his new movie. It was his first on television interview. First time being back in the studio for The Late Late Show with James Corden. First time since you and him had gotten together. He was eager to see what James had in store for him.

He was wearing a bright yellow shirt paired with a red leather jacket. His legs were clad with a different pair that he wanted to wear originally because you couldn’t get quite enough of his thighs. Had he worn the other pair, there would’ve been a prominent wet spot on one leg where you rode him to your own satisfaction. The memory made him bite his lip and adjust his pants to try to quell his oncoming boner.

“Good luck out there tonight, lovey. You’re gonna crush it.” Your voicemail warmed Sebastian’s heart. He missed you a lot, but you were currently on your own press junket. Your new album finally came out and your manager had been running you ragged. Sebastian was so proud of everything you’ve accomplished, and he wasn’t afraid to show it.

“Hi, Mr. Stan. You’re needed on deck in five minutes.” He nodded at the assistant producer who stuck her head in his dressing room. Sebastian ran his hands through his hair one more time before deciding enough was enough.

“Well, this is as good as it's gonna get.” He murmured to himself as he walked out of the dressing room. He rolled his shoulders, snuggling into the leather jacket encasing his back. Sebastian took a swig of a water bottle from the table backstage. He still got nervous when doing interviews, always worried that he’s going to say the wrong thing.

“And now I would like to introduce our next guest. You’ve seen him as Bucky Barnes in the Marvel Cinematic Universe for the last ten years. He’s played the borderline psychotic Jeff Gillooly in I, Tonya, and the corrupt Sheriff Bodecker from The Devil All The Time. It is my pleasure to introduce the one, the only, Sebastian Stan!”

James stood, clapping as Sebastian made his way to the main set area. He raised his right hand, his left remaining on his stomach. As he approached James, Sebastian switched hands, his left coming up as an offer for James to shake. Afterwards, James held his hand out to the chair beside his desk, waiting for Sebastian to sit down.

“Hi, Sebastian! It’s so good to have you back.” James’ accent broke Sebastian’s name up into three distinct syllables, bringing a smile to Seb’s face.

“It’s good to be back, man.” He grinned big, waiting for James to ask the first question. Once they got into it, the interview went smoothly. Sebastian was able to avoid giving out spoilers for his new project, leaving just enough to the imagination. James was in a fit of laughter after Sebastian had told a crazy story from being on set. James wiped tears away from his lower lashline, calming down just enough to catch his breath.

“Okay, so I want to move onto something else.” Sebastian sobered up quickly, unsure of where James was taking the conversation. “We want all the juicy details about your relationship with Y/N.” Sebastian’s brow raised as he pulled a face at James’ question. He laughed to himself for a minute before answering.

“Ya know, we really have you to thank for that.” Sebastian pointed at James, before bringing that same finger to rub his eye.

“Really?” The man’s voice pitched up, brows hitting his hairline.

“Oh yeah. We were only introduced because of your show.” Sebastian leaned back in his chair, remembering that night with you. The two of you had gone out for drinks, talking for hours at the bar and then even longer in his hotel room. He remembered waking up with you wrapped up in his arms. You didn’t have sex that night, but you definitely did the second night.

And oh god, if  that second night wasn’t just as amazing as the first. The face you made whenever you climaxed danced it’s way to the forefront of Sebastian’s mind. Not good, definitely not good. He had to readjust himself in his pants again, crossing his legs to cover up his rather large problem.

“Yeah, we started dating that same week. Kept it quiet though.” Sebastian held his palm out in the air, bouncing it up and down.

“Right, right. And do you want to tell everyone how you did end up revealing that you and Y/N were an item?” Sebastian looked down at his lap, smirking to himself. “Or should we just play the clip?”

A clip played for the studio audience. It was Y/N doing her makeup for the Vogue Beauty Secrets Youtube video. Sebastian waltzed in the background of the shot. It then cuts to Sebastian kissing Y/N on the cheek, brandishing the hickey’s that she had sucked onto his cheek the night before. Mhm, I remember that night too.

Sebastian had surprised Y/N by coming to see her. He wasn’t doing anything and he missed you, so why waste a perfectly good opportunity. He spent the night there completely ravishing you until you begged him to stop. That night he proudly wore your thighs as earmuffs, burying his face in you. He really needed to stop reminiscing during an interview.

“How adorable. Was that planned at all? Or did you just do that because you could?” Sebastian shook his head, his right hand scratching at the stubble decorating his jaw.

“Oh, no. It definitely wasn’t planned. I honestly don’t remember if I knew Y/N was filming that morning, so I’m just glad I put on pants before I left the bedroom.” James laughed at Sebastian’s comment.

“Okay, so I’ve gotta ask your opinion on something though.” Sebastian made a hum of acknowledgement, signalling for James to continue. James leaned back, pulling out a cardstock of your new album. “So, this is Y/N’s new album, it just came out about three or four weeks ago?” The crowd clapped for you, and Sebastian cheered along with them.

“What do ya want my opinion on? If it’s the album, then I gotta tell ya, I loved it. Every single song on there is absolutely amazing.” James nodded, a smirk forming on his lips making Sebastian think he made a mistake.

“So you’re aware of the song Europe?” Sebastian smirked, nodding his head because he knew where this was going. “Would you like to tell us what that’s about?” James laughed as Sebastian stammered, looking for the right words. “I mean, let’s just read some of the lyrics.” James looked at the cards in his hands as Sebastian drifted into his thoughts again.

You had brought him into the studio before finalizing Europe. He remembers watching you twist your hands at your waist and continuously cracking your knuckles. Sebastian was curious because you hadn’t ever been like that when showing him a song before. Every question he had about your anxiety revolving around the song was thrown away when he heard it.

Europe was an ode to Sebastian, all of Sebastian. He couldn’t help pulling you down onto his lap by your waist as he listened. You were the only two in the studio, so the two of you were free to do whatever you wanted. The funny thing about that night was that there was a new track recording.

“Oh shit, Seb.” The dam broke afterwards, peels of laughter leaving your lips without explanation. Your right hand raised to your mouth, attempting (and failing) to quiet your giggles.

“Babe, why the ‘oh shit’?” You held up a finger to your lips, telling him to be quiet and listen. He strained his ears, waiting for his own ‘oh shit’ moment. Then, his own voice filtered into his ears, making him crease his brow in confusion. “What is that?”

“That’s the audio from when I first played you Europe.” Small giggles passed your lips again. “I was going to ask you if I could use, like, a sound byte from it for either the beginning or the end of the song.” Sebastian nodded, slightly amazed that you were so creative with your work. “But, I forgot to turn off the recording.” Sebastian’s eyes locked on your expression, waiting for him to connect the dots. He pulled a face and then,

“Oh shit.” His eyes widened, a huff of laughter escaping. “Wait, so it caught all of it?” Your lips rolled inwards, holding back laughs as you nodded your head. Sebastian raised a brow, his eyes flicking over your face. “Use it.” He had a few new hickeys after that night too, but not after decorating your body with a few of his own.

“Sebastian, I would like you to read a few lines from the song, please.” James handed Sebastian a card, a snort leaving Sebastian’s body involuntarily. He glanced at the cards, know the lyrics by heart already. He took a big breath, reading the lines that James chose. He threw him a look with his eyes, head tilting slightly toward the British man.

“Uh, okay, here we go.” Sebastian laughed to himself, blowing out a breath through clenched lips. He lifted the card again, “You know,” dropping his hand back to his lap while raising his other hand. “You know, she’s gonna make fun of me for this right?” James laughed, looking into the camera as if he was on The Office, then to the audience with a duh look on his face.

“Sebastian. We’re going to make fun of you.” The crowd didn’t hesitate to join in James’ amusement. Sebastian dropped his head into his hands, groaning loudly. “Do you need a little encouragement?” The audience began cheering and clapping for Sebastian.

“Fine, alright, alright.” He shook his head before starting. “Long nights with hickeys earned like a badge of honor. Teasing kisses, twisted sheets, all signs of true seduction.” Sebastian looked up from his hands, expecting James to say something. All James offered, though, was a wave of his hand for Sebastian to continue. “I never have to worry because all my sins are forgiven when I’m with you.” James held his hand up, stopping Sebastian from continuing.

“Okay, let’s dissect that, Mr. Stan.” James propped his elbow on his interview desk, placing his head at an angle in his palm. “What is this song about?” Sebastian’s lips curled inward, stopping himself from laughter.

“James,” Sebastian leaned forward against the arm of the couch. “I thought this was a family show.” The British man quirked a brow, sweeping both hands in front of his body gesturing to the studio.

“This is the Late Late Show, Sebastian.” He turned back to the audience, addressing them and the cameras. “And that is all the time we have tonight! Thank you to Sebastian for coming on the show with me tonight! And thank all of you for tuning in tonight. We’ll see you next time.” The producer beside the camera signaled that the show ended and Sebastian turned back to James.

“It’s a good song.” Sebastian smiled wide afterwards, saying his goodbyes to the crew. He was back in the safety of his dressing room when his phone started ringing.

“Hello?” He knew that it was you from the personally assigned ringtone you picked out when he wasn’t looking.

“The Internet is going to eat you alive.” Sebastian grinned as your peels of laughter trickled in through the speaker of his phone.

“Oh yeah, could you imagine if I told them that it wasn’t just random sounds at the end?” He could just imagine your smirk at his mention of your little addition to Europe.

“We’re gonna have to do that again.” Sebastian paused, waiting for you to explain. “Although I think next time we should do a visual along with the audio. You pickin’ up what I’m putting down Stan?” Sebastian smirked to himself, thinking about being able to watch himself bring you to the brink over and over again, even when you’re not together. His pants got tighter at the idea.

“I think we might have to look into that, Y/L/N.”

[stylesberries]

My Princess

Summary: You tag along with Harry to his Vogue shoot. The dress is definitely a turn on.

Genre(s): purest smut of all

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning(s): smut??? use of butt plugs, sub!harry (not a warning, more of a welcoming sign)

“Harry! A little more to the left! Yes, great!” the photographer kept giving Harry instructions on adjusting his poses for the December Vogue cover photoshoot. You sat next to dressed up Gemma on the bench in the field of tall grass chatting and observing from a distance.

“He’s pulling the dress off better than I ever could.” You told Gemma, letting your gaze go back and forth from her to your boyfriend.

“Same. No way I could ever feel confident enough to wear that. It’s so puffy.” Gemma giggled, diving deeper into the blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“He looks like a princess.” You announce, looking at the man with adoration.

Harry caught your creepy stare and wondered what was going through that pretty little head of yours.

“Whatcha thinking, pretty?” He asked, smirking at you, knowing exactly what you were thinking.

“You look like a princess!” You exclaimed loudly, smiling widely at Harry. Your words surprised him and caused a dimple to appear on his smiling face. Harry put a hand on his defined waist and stroke a silly pose to make you laugh.

“A princess, huh? Well, would you be my Prince Charming then?” He shamelessly flirted with you, flapping his lashes at you.

“I’m down to be your Prince Charming any day.”

Harry swears he could feel his dick twitch in his briefs.

Thank God I’m wearing a dress.

Harry kept posing and for another 30 minutes and the whole time you’d keep shamelessly flirting. Gemma had to stop herself from throwing up at how disgusting you two got. At some point, she snuck away to talk to Anne on the phone (at least that’s what she used as an excuse) and left you and Harry on the verge of foreplay.

“This dress would look beautiful on you, you know,” Harry said, turning his back to you, obviously asking you to unzip the dress.

You two stood in the middle of his trailer that parked in the open of the field. Harry had to change into the other outfit his stylist picked for him to continue the photoshoot.

“You know I don’t wear stuff like that.” You answered him, slowly unzipping the back of his dress, looking into his eyes through the reflection in the mirror.

Harry felt the mood rapidly change. He watched your eyes darken as you kept prolonging the unzipping of the dress, slowly dragging your cold fingers against his skin behind the zipper.

Harry couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as he felt the tip of your tongue leave a wet trace along his spine.

“Ah, please,” Harry whined, letting you wrap your arm around his waist holding him from running away from your wet tongue.

“Please what, baby?” You teased him further, running your nails against the wet trace along his spine.

“Please, touch me.” He begged, pushing his back against your chest in hopes that your arm would move a little lower and touch his crotch even though he knew how much you hated it when he wasn’t patient.

“What do you think you’re doing, huh? You should be patient. And here I thought you were a good boy.” You added the last words knowing that it would make him go crazy.

Harry’s eyes went wide as he no longer felt your hands or tongue on him. You completely retreated and walked to the couch on the opposite side of the trailer. Harry felt cold and his naked back only added to it.

“No, no, please.” He turned his face to you as you watched the look full of regret on his face. You sat back against the couch and watched your boyfriend slowly walk up to you.

“Stop.” You commanded.

Harry didn’t dare go against your command and stopped the second you told him to.

“What do you have to say when you’re being bad?” You asked him, looking into his sad eyes. His lips trembled as he stood in the middle of his trailer.

“I’m sorry for being a bad boy, mommy.” He whispered the last part to himself but you still heard it loud and clear.

“What do bad boys have to do for mommy to forgive them?” You ask Harry, getting comfortable in your seat, getting ready for what was to come.

Harry understood you right away and his eyes went straight to his tote bag. He walked to it and pulled a small sunglasses case from it. Inside the case, there was a small bottle of lube and a butt plug with a green stone on its end.

You didn’t say anything and just watched as Harry fell on his knees, his back facing you. Harry opened the lube bottle and poured some lube on the butt plug, some on it dripping on the front of his dress.

You stayed silent throughout the show, watching as he presses his face against the flood of the trailer and pulls the puffy dress out of the way for you to see his ass covered with the fabric of his briefs, a visible dark spot on the part covering his hard dick.

Harry waited for your “blessing” with the lubed-up butt plug in his one hand and pulling his underwear down his legs revealing his twitching cock and his gaping hole with the other.

“Start.” You commanded, moving to the edge of the couch to see Harry slowly insert the tip of the butt plug into his hole.

A deep whine left Harry’s mouth as he felt himself spread welcoming the wet cold metal inside.

“Silent. Only good boys get to make noises.” You growled at him.

Harry kept his mouth shut, pressing his face against the floor to muffle his moans, taking the butt plug in completely. His hand left the green-stoned end and pushed his upper half off the floor to stand on all fours.

“What a nice view, H.” You cooed, looking at the pretty green stone - the evidence of the fullness your boyfriend was feeling.

You got up from your seat and made a U-turn to stand in front of Harry, facing him on his fours. You pressed your fingers under his chin, pushing his face up to look at you.

Harry’s face was covered in tears that kept dripping from his eyes from how turned on he was and how much he needed to cum.

“Awww look at this. What a filthy slut, huh.” You kept teasing Harry and watched his face contort in pain as he felt his dick twitch and his hole squeeze around the butt plug.

“Would you want to say something?” You asked, raising your eyebrow from curiosity.

“Mommy, I’m so sorry. I’ll be a good boy. Please let me cum. It hurts.” Harry begs on his knees quite literally.

“Hm. You have been following my commands so far. Get up and put your briefs back on.” You think out loud and step away, letting Harry get up from his knees. The dress puff fell back in place and covered his filthy wet hole and hard dick. Harry bent over to put his underwear back on. When he was ready he looked back at you standing in front of him, waiting for your next instruction.

You sent him a smile, walking up to him and reaching between you two to push the front dress ruffles up and sneak your hand in his underwear to free his painfully swollen dick out of its prison.

Harry just stood there waiting patiently this time.

“Oh. You’re so hard, baby. Does it hurt?” You ask, looking into his eyes with a pitiful look.

“Yes, mommy,” Harry whined.

“Good.” You quickly say and spit onto his almost-purple cock, getting it wet and letting go of the rubber band of his underwear. It painfully snapped against his lower abdomen and caused his dick to be pushed back tightly against the wet fabric. A desperate moan left Harry’s mouth following your actions.

You proceeded to walk out of the trailer before turning around and looking at Harry one last time before opening the door to leave.

He stood there, his dress - pulled up, the light fluffs of the expensive dress - a mess. Some puffs had drops of dried lube on them and Harry’s face was red from the shame of what just happened. The tears had already dried on his cheeks. He was still squeezing around the now-warm butt plug and thinking about how much his dick hurts. Pathetic.

“What a pretty little princess you are.” You coo at Harry before turning your back to him and exiting the trailer.

You walk away from the trailer and make your way back to where you have last seen Gemma.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. Is Harry coming? We have a couple more pictures to take. He’s taking a while.” The photographer asks you the second he sees you.

“Um. Not sure. You could check his trailer though.”

© all right belong to stylesberries. do not repost or modify.

[kkusuka]

Y/n gets bored so she decideds to ask her boyfriend oikawa if she can do his makeup and at first he’s like no but y/n just forces him into a chair with a quick peck before she gets to work on his hair and makeup, but it’s a bit hard to do so she decides to straddle oikawa to get a better angle and pervy oikawa has been activated -✨Puppy🤩

oikawa- in-in eyeliner, and crack bc yes 

Oikawa x reader 

genre: crack 

a/n: im currently crying over Junpei all over again 

--

He was beautiful.

Fair skin, plush-pillowy lips that you’re sure would feel like clouds, piercing brown eyes that cut through straight to your soul, and tousled brown hair that you would love to run your hands through.

Not only that. It was the dark-rimmed eyeliner accompanied by the bright electric blue mascara framing his eyes. And the cherry pink lip gloss reflected the plump lips.

Whoever this man on the cover of Vogue was, he was beautiful.

Nothing could ruin your moment.

“Heeeeeey! C’mon y/n! Stop fangirl over some random guy right in front of me!”

Well maybe one thing, but it isn't your fault Tooru couldn't appreciate true beauty. He’s too full of himself to admit other people are pretty (besides you of course). He’s been throwing a fit about how you think some random guy is hotter than him and you have yet to confirm or deny that statement.

Which, as you could imagine, made him even more irritable. After ten minutes of ranting about how you had one of Argentina's most eligible bachelors in your court yet you can't appreciate that, he just walked out of the room.

Originally you assumed he had just given up and started watching Tv in another room, but you were quickly proven wrong.

“I can wear all of the makeup shit too.” he proudly stated as he ripped the magazine out of your hand and cleared the coffee table in front of you, plopping your makeup kit on the newly open space.

He gave no other direction as he just sat next to you, crossed his legs, and waved his hand for you to continue.

“Tooru, this is ridiculous” you laughed, yet still going to open your bag.

“It is not ridiculous, far from it, I'm just proving that I am just as beautiful as that rando. Now put the stupid stuff on my face!” he doesn't ask, he demands.

Just trying to get translucent powder on his face was a hassle, he inhaled the moment your brush came close to his face and had a five-minute coughing fit. Then he tried to tell you what blush to use and that started a fight, everyone with a brain can tell a peach-pink blush did not fix his skin.

But now things were getting harder, eyes shadow was a challenge. Your angle didn't help and his eyelids keep twitching, not to mention all the flinching back made for a very challenging cut crease.

And there was no way in hell you could ever put eyeliner, nevermind mascara, on your boyfriend. Somehow you knew that you would have to hold him down in some way.

Coming to a quick conclusion, you slapped his leg for him to uncross his legs. Grabbing your eyeliner and a pink mascara that a friend gave you for Halloween.

“I’m hoping on.” before Tooru could even open his mouth you were straddling his waist and had a hand on his cheek.

“If you wanted to sit on me you could’ve just said so, no need for the makeup.”

“Shut it trashykawa, you reap what you sow. Now sit still, I'm almost done.” listening to your command he sat still for most of the eyeliner, but of course, nothing is calm when Toru is involved.

“AH! y/n! Are you trying to poke my eye out! I'm sorry for making you angry but this is very extreme!”

What horrendous deed had you done to gain such a reaction? Well, it wasn't really you, he had jerked his head while you attempted to put the last swipe of mascara on. You didn't even touch his eye.

“I didn't even touch you!”

“Yes, it did! Was that your plan? To make me pass out so you can take advantage of me! I know I'm pretty but that’s a bit much!”

Honestly, he did look very pretty with makeup on if he wasn't ranting about your plot to kill him for life insurance.

[iamnotoriginalphil]

Good Girl (Wilhemina Venable x f!Reader)

Synopsis: No single person has ever enchanted you as much as Miss Venable. All you want is for her to feel the same. 

Words: 4.1k

Warnings: smut

**GIF not mine**

You’d always had a thing for authority figures. You’d had countless crushes on teachers, had lusted after your boss for an embarrassingly long time, and any woman in a cops uniform could handcuff you whenever they wanted.

Miss Venable outshone them all.

You’d never met anyone with such an aura of authority in your life. Just seeing her could make your mouth go dry and your stomach tighten. You wanted to get down on your knees for her. She was making your time in Outpost Three both heaven and hell.

Your fingers tripped along the spines of leather bound books, the library quiet in the afternoon hours. The others, congregated before a fire, had left you to your own devices, choosing to complain about the conditions rather than accept their new reality. The song, the constant loop, was playing and you mouthed along to the words, unconscious of it in these moments when you were alone. Your mind was focused on the way Miss Venable’s eyes had glittered over dinner the night before, the firelight bringing life to the usually hard to read expression on her face.

There had been a moment, when Coco was complaining about something or other, when your eyes had met hers. You’d given her a small half smile and her chin had dipped. It had sent a thrill through you that you’d never experienced before. You’d had to look away before you’d done something stupid at the table, like swear your life long loyalty to her in front of everyone. You hadn’t been able to even so much as look at her since then.

“Are they not to your liking?”

The voice was sarcastic but the tap of the cane had you jumping around, pressing your back to the shelves. A tilt of the head and you were ready to spill your deepest secrets to the red haired woman if only asked for them.

“No I… I,” you tried to get out but your mouth was dry.

Something sparked in her eye and she took another step forward. You tried to press back against the shelves further but they were already digging into your flesh. She stopped in front of you, both hands clasping her cane, her face inscrutable.

“You?” she asked, her voice low, making you squeeze your eyes closed.

“I’ve already read them,” you said. You squinted your eyes open. Her eyes were roving over your face. You felt your skin heat up under her gaze.

She nodded, turning away from you, perusing the shelves across the room from you. You turned your back on her, assuming that was a dismissal from her. She’d done worse when done with the other Purples. You pulled a book at random from the shelves, not bothering to look at the title before turning to walk out of the library.

“Wait.”

You froze, the absolute command of that single word making the place between your legs throb. The tap of a cane and you turned. You saw her murmur something to herself.

“If you have read them all, what would you recommend?” she asked.

“Oh.” You felt your eyes grow a bit wider, “I suppose it depends on what you’re looking for. There’s a lot about the Salem witch trials if that interests you, or a lot about plants if that takes your fancy. There’s not much fiction, but over in the corner are some books teaching Latin.”

“And you have read them all?” she asked.

“There’s not a lot to fill the hours with,” you said, “and sometimes I can’t sleep.”

She gestured to the book in your hands, “is that a particular favourite?”

“Um.” You finally looked at the title. A book on the witch hunts in Europe, “it’s very informative.”

“Read it to me.”

She turned, taking a seat in one of the chairs, firelight flickering over the planes of her face. With her back to the fire her expression was nothing but shadows.

“Well?”

You jumped, hurrying over to the other seat. You cracked the book open, your eyes flicking up to her then back down. You blinked, then began reading, your voice hesitant. You saw her eyes close and you took a deep breath, continuing stronger.

You don’t know how long you were there, how long she had you read out loud to her. It was hard to tell if she enjoyed it. At some point her eyes opened, watching you intently, but her expression gave nothing away as to how she was feeling. All you could go off was how you felt, which was as if you were caught in an intimate moment you hadn’t prepared for. Soft voice, firelight, and the attention of a beautiful woman had you ready to flee and ready to remain as long as you were wanted. The warring sides of your brain kept you from enjoying the moment.

After time had passed, pages and pages gone by, she held up a hand, silencing you. She stood and you hurriedly followed suit, the book shutting with a loud clap in the otherwise silent room.

“That is enough.”

“Of course, Miss Venable.”

You bowed your head as she passed you and without another word she swept from the room, the tap of her cane growing faint. On weak legs you sunk back down on your seat, pressing your hand to your cheek. Your heart was thrumming hard and fast and you felt light headed. Already you were addicted to her presence.

That night you found a book outside your door. A book you had never read before.

The next day brought Gallant in the library, complaining about the lack of any interesting books but an insistence on lounging in one of the arm chairs. This led to Coco searching him out where they both took up a loud conversation about missing Vogue. You gave up five minutes into the conversation, searching out a quiet corner of the facility to try and hear your own thoughts.

And to read your gift.

You took to carrying it with you. Having it out of your sight for more than a few minutes had you feeling itchy. You read it cover to cover, your fingers running over the ink and paper and leather. By touching it, it felt as if you were touching the woman from who you’d received it. It was the closest you’d ever get to her with the rules in place.

She found you in a quiet corner of the Outpost, a place usually only frequented by the Grays. You sat in an alcove, your legs curled under you, book open in your lap. The soft leather against your fingertips and the comfort of familiar words filled your heart but the tap of the cane on the floor had your heart fluttering. You looked up, watching her approach.

“A new favourite?” Her voice had you ready to please.

“Non fiction can be stimulating but I’ll always be fonder of fiction,” you said.

“You seem unable to put it down,” she said, “or has it become a safety blanket as a child would carry?”

“More that I don’t trust the others with it,” you said.

“You think they would do something to one of your possessions?” She raised an eyebrow at you.

“I know Coco sends Mallory in to find out people's secrets,” you said, “it won’t end well if they think I’m hoarding anything. Even if it’s something they don’t particularly care about.”

She took another step forward.

“And I believe the original owner may want it back,” you said.

Long fingers plucked the book from your lap, a disdainful look crossing the face at the title but the corner of the mouth quirked up. You devoured her face, your eyes roving over the high cheekbones, the full lips, the dark eyes. You wanted to know everything that was passing through her mind.

“Have you enjoyed it?” she asked, her eyes meeting yours. A thrill went down your spine.

“Very much so,” you said.

Her fingers curled over the cover of the book, holding it to her chest. You felt yourself flush, imagining it was you she was holding close. You could imagine her heart beating against your skin.

“It’s not his best work but he has a way with words I’ve always found elegant,” she said. Her eyes felt as if they were boring into yours, drawing answers from you that you had no idea she wanted. You were willing to give them to her. Whatever they were.

“Do you enjoy poetry?” you asked. Her eyes squinted but obviously she did not find it too distasteful a question.

“Occasionally,” she replied, slowly, considering the words coming out of her mouth, “most poetry I find insipid but there are a few I’ve found enjoyment in.”

“There’s a small volume of poetry I found tucked under my mattress when I arrived. That book reminded me of it,” you said, “perhaps you would like to read it.”

She tapped her cane on the floor, making your mouth fall open. You planted your feet on the ground, folding your hands in your lap to keep her from seeing them tremble. She tilted her head, her eyes running down your body then back up until she met yours.

“Lead the way,” she said, slow and steady.

You rose on shaky legs, giving her a quick nod. She held out her hand, letting you step in front of her. You felt your hips swaying an extra amount as you walked in front of her, hoping she was looking but assuming she wasn’t because she was above that kind of thing. You couldn’t stop your body from giving her the signals.

You paused in front of your room, turning to look over your shoulder at the woman following behind you. She tilted her chin up and you turned back, grasping the doorknob. It opened smoothly in your grip and you pushed it open. You didn’t bother to invite her in, automatically lighting the candle by the side of your bed. The soft tap of the cane and a quiet click had you stiffening.

“It’s, um.” You turned, “it’s still under the mattress.”

“Are you expecting me to lift it?” You could tell by the note in her voice that the answer should be no.

You lifted the mattress, pulling out the thin volume. The worn leather and the hand cut paper was exactly where you’d left it, small enough to fit in your hand. You turned, jerking back when you found Miss Venable much closer than you were expecting. You fell on the thin mattress, wincing as a spring stabbed you in the ass. She chuckled, something in her face softening.

“I’m not going to bite,” she said.

Her fingers brushed against yours as she took the book from your hand. She didn’t bother looking at it, turning on her heels and walking to the door. She opened it then turned back to look at you.

“Unless you’d like me to.”

Since then you hadn’t been able to think of anything else. Her teeth sinking into your skin, leaving marks to be seen later, the pain and pleasure mingling together. All she had to do was give you a look and you had to press your thighs together while you tried to catch your breath. And from the way her lips would curl up every time she knew what she was doing.

A few weeks after that incident you found your book of poetry outside your door, plus a thick, well worn paperback, the first of its kind you’d seen in the Outpost. You looked both ways out the door, finding the hallway deserted. You picked up both, a hint of lavender clinging to the pages. You ran your fingers over the raised lettering. Another by the same author.

You stayed up all night reading.

You brought it with you to breakfast before slipping into the library, wanting the silence to wrap around you. You sank into the armchair, running your fingers along the edge of the pages. You could see some of the pages had been dog eared and in one place you could see the vestiges of pencil underlining a sentence.

Your head jerked up when you heard the tap of a cane on the stone floor. The dark figure of a beautiful woman emerged from the shadows. You watched as she began to look at the shelves, completely ignoring you.

Without thinking you began to read from the book aloud in a soft voice. You kept your eyes trained on the words, not wanting to look at the woman. If you did then it would all fall apart and you’d lose your voice. You kept going until a finger rested on the book, gently pushing it down into your lap.

You looked up into dark eyes, able to see the firelight flickering in them. She grasped your chin in a tight grip, and you felt your heart jump. Her eyes darkened as your tongue darted out to wet your lips.

“You’re such a good girl,” she murmured, “all for me.”

Her thumb swiped along your bottom lip. You made a noise in the back of your throat and a smile curled at the corner of her mouth.

“If I asked you to debase yourself in front of me, you would, wouldn’t you?” she asked.

“Yes Miss Venable,” you said.

She let you go, pushing your face away. She took a step back from your sitting form, the mask slamming back into place. Voices began to draw closer from outside. She turned back to the shelves, her back stiff and chin high. You sniffed and stood up, fleeing from the room, not sure you could handle another second with the cloying atmosphere of desperate want. You almost slammed into Mallory in your rush, a quiet chuckle following you all the way back to your room.

You fell back on your bed, ignoring the clamouring voices in your head. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to get your breathing back under control. You couldn’t stop the heat in your cheeks and you knew you were in hell. And Miss Venable was the devil.

You tried avoiding her after that. It shouldn’t have been so difficult in a place as large as the Outpost but she seemed to be around every corner. With the rule about copulaton you had to get over whatever hold that authoritarian woman had on you before you were shot in the back of your head for wanting her in every way. But she wasn’t making it easy.

You’d finished reading the book she’d lent you, trying to draw it out as long as possible. The longer you were reading it, the longer you could keep a piece of her with you. It was sitting on your nightstand, burning your brain with shame. You knew you had to give it back, but you couldn’t bring yourself to knock on her door and hand it over. You couldn’t bring yourself to face her, alone, without fear of being interrupted. Every night you looked at it before blowing the candle out, that well of shame overflowing in you, knowing you had no right to the book, but unable to give it up. Once you did, it would be the end of whatever was going on.

You were frozen, unable to move one way or the other.

On one of those nights, when the images of what if were running through your head, and your heart hurt so much you thought it might kill you, you rummaged under your mattress for the poetry book. It was wedged in tight, taking a few tugs to free it.

You pressed yourself against the cool stone wall, your knees at your chest. You rested the book balanced precariously on your knees. When you opened it to your favourite poem some dried pressed lavender slid from between the pages. You picked it up with your thumb and forefinger, careful not to crumble it. The scent of lavender surrounded you, making your heart ache.

Looking down at the small piece of lavender, kept in your book, marking your favourite poem, it made something in your brain crack. It must have because you stood up, snatching up the paperback, and stormed out of the room.

Everyone knew where Miss Venable’s room was, and thankfully for you, people tended to avoid that area of the Outpost. You stood outside the door, staring at it, listening to your heartbeat in your ears. You raised a hand, watching it tremble. You knocked on the door.

It took a while to open and as you waited you considered turning around and running back to your room. Seeing her in flickering firelight and a satin nightdress had the breath knocked from your body. She looked at you with inquisitive eyes.

“It’s past lights out,” she said, “you're supposed to be in your bed.”

“I’d rather be in yours.”

You clapped a hand over your mouth, your eyes widening and ice filling your veins. Her face hardened for a moment before her hand shot out, grabbing your wrist. You tried to jerk back but she pulled you forward into the room, the door slamming behind you. You were shoved back against the door.

“I’m so sorry Miss Venable. I don’t know why I said that. I didn’t mean it. I’m so so sorry,” you said. She tilted her head, not giving anything away as she looked at you, “oh god I’m so sorry. Please don’t kill me.”

“What’s that in your hand?” she asked, not letting go of your wrist.

“It’s your book. I came to return it to you,” you whispered.

“And climb into my bed?” she murmured.

“No, I- it wasn’t- I wasn’t trying to,” you tried to say.

“That is disappointing,” she said.

“What?” You felt as if you were on the back foot. It didn’t make sense. She was looking at you with those unreadable eyes, her lips pressed together.

“I was hoping you were going to debase yourself for me,” she said, “or are you not my good girl?”

You squeaked. She gave you a slow smile, her hand dropping your wrist to wrap around your throat, giving it a gentle squeeze. Your mouth fell open and the book fell to the floor with a thump.

“Or were you waiting for me to bite you?”

She bared her teeth at you. Your hands settled on her hips, feeling the soft material against your skin and the warmth of her body. You tugged on her but she didn’t move a step.

“Answer me,” she said.

“Yes Miss Venable.”

“You were waiting for me to bite you?”

“I was hoping you would,” you said, your cheeks aflame. Her eyes darkened, turning molten, smouldering at you, “in fact it’s all I’ve been able to think about.”

Her head descended, warm breath fanning over the exposed skin of your neck. Her hand slid into your hair, tangling in your locks, pulling your head to one side. Her lips pressed to your jugular and you thought you might die. A warm tongue ran over your skin, tasting you. You made a strangled little noise and you felt her chuckle against you. Your fingers reflexively tightened on her hips.

“Only good girls get rewards,” she murmured into your skin.

“Tell me what to do,” you said, “please.”

“Touch yourself.”

She took one of your hands off her hip and pressed it between your legs. You jerked against your fingers, surprised how sensitive you already were. You pressed more insistently, a little gasp falling from your lips.

You tugged at your skirts until they were up around your hips, your hand able to gain better access to your panty covered core. She tightened her hand in your hair until you felt it pull. You whined, feeling her teeth scrape against your skin. You slipped your hands inside your underwear, your finger beginning to circle your bundle of nerves. A breathy moan escaped your lips. Her teeth pressed more insistently into your skin.

You bucked against your own fingers as you pressed down on your clit. Her teeth sunk into your neck, deep and hard. You whined, reaching out to Miss Venable, slipping your arm around her waist. Your fingers clutched at the fabric of her night dress. Her teeth sunk in deeper, not letting go as pain turned to pleasure, shooting down to your core in a wave.

She brought her hand down between your legs, knocking yours away from your heated core. You whined until her fingers replaced yours. She hummed into your skin, collecting the wetness on her finger. Your knees trembled.

Her tongue ran over your bruised skin as her finger plunged into you. You moaned, your head falling back against the wall. Her teeth sunk into your shoulder, leaving another bruise for you to find later. Her palm brushed against your clit and your hips jumped towards her.

Her pace was slow, tortuous, but adding another finger had you making a strangled noise in the back of your throat. She pressed you back against the wall, pinning you there as her fingers thrust in and out of you. It was the only thing keeping you upright. She sucked hard on your pulse point.

You were panting, the pressure building in you. Her face was hidden in your neck, her teeth all over you. Her thumb pressed down on your bundle of nerves. One of your hands landed on her shoulder, fingers clutching at her. She murmured something into your skin, the fire licking at you. Your thighs were trembling.

“Come for me, my good girl,” she whispered, her breath fanning over the shell of your ear.

It crashed into you, wave after wave of pleasure coursing through your bloodstream. You stiffened, your breath catching in your throat. She nipped at your collarbone as her fingers slowed. As you came back to yourself you realised how tightly you were gripping her. You let her go, flexing your fingers. She stepped back, holding up her fingers to show you them glistening in the flickering candlelight.

“You’ve made quite a mess,” she said, “clean it up.”

You opened your mouth, sliding your lips around her digits, tasting yourself on her skin. She hummed, her dark eyes watching you, studying you, making you flush under her scrutiny. You grasped her wrist, drawing it away from your mouth, your tongue lapping at the rest of your juices, never breaking eye contact with her. It might have been the candles, but you thought there might be a blush high on her cheeks.

“Good girl,” she murmured.

Her other hand came up, resting on your throat, her thumb running over one of the bite marks on your skin. You hissed, surprised at the sting. She drew her hand back, a drop of your blood lingering on the pad of her thumb. Her tongue darted out, catching it before it slid from her skin. It shouldn’t have sent a thrill of arousal through you again.

“I found the lavender,” you said, “how did you know that was my favourite poem?”

She quirked an eyebrow. While you waited you pressed a kiss to her palm, your thumb running over the pulse thrumming in her wrist. You could feel it racing, despite the calm look on her face.

“It was my favourite too,” she said.

You offered her a small smile, “it was nice seeing something natural down here.”

“Consider it a gift.” She cupped your cheek, her thumb running over your cheekbone. You nuzzled against her palm, pressing a kiss to the knuckles of her other hand, her wrist still in your hold. Her eyes were sparkling.

“Now return to your room,” she said.

She removed her hand from your cheek and pulled her hand from your grip, turning away from you. Her red hair swayed against her back, lit up by the candlelight, and all you wanted to do was wrap your hands in it. You gulped. You had never wanted another person as much as you wanted her.

“And if you’re a good girl tomorrow I might let you return the favour.”

You’d never moved so fast on shaky legs before.

[misslilli]

Felix Felicis

MSR. AU. PG-13. | tagging @today-in-fic | read on AO3

Chapter 27 - Embarrassments And Evil Plans

[ FM ]

It’s not like I planned it or anything, but on the same day next week, I find myself back outside, walking the streets of Plymouth. Last weekend, snow has finally fallen but it had melted right away, leaving an ugly brown slush in the streets and pools of water on the floors. Somehow, I end up in front of the only Starbucks in town, oh what a coincidence.

I enter the coffee shop a little too exuberant for the wet floor and my dress shoes, so before I can catch myself, I slip in the puddle and fall face first to the floor. It knocks the air right out of me, stupid snow!

“Well well… isn’t it a nice surprise to have a man fall at your feet, in a Starbucks of all places.” I recognize the teasing voice even without looking up, my face burning with embarrassment. When I do look up, I’m faced with a smirking Scully waiting in line for her weekly sugar fix.

“Are you okay?,” she asks between laughs after she helped me up.

“Aside from my wounded ego? Yeah, fine.” I grumble at her laughter, that’s not helping little lady.

“Sorry. Come on, I’ll buy you and your fractured ego some coffee.” We step up to the counter to the eagerly waiting barista.

“Black coffee for Bob.” she says. “Peppermint Mocha, sweet cream foam and an extra shot of espresso for Nancy.” I say.

She hands over her credit card and at the end of the counter, as we wait, she raises an eyebrow at me. “Nancy? Really? Next time, I’m choosing the undercover names!” ‘She said next time!’

“I’m curious about that sugar mixed with more sugar concoction of yours, can I get a sip?” She gives me a ‘Yeah right’ look.

“Nu-huh, you’ve proven youself to be a concoction-snob, you’re not getting a sip.”

“Ouch, there goes my recently mended fractured ego again!”

As if we’ve never been doing anything else, we walk out of Starbucks and turn to head towards the junction where we’ll have to part ways.

“You should really invest in some sensible winter boots, city boy! These are just a safety hazard!” I burn my tongue on my coffee with a hiss.

“That won’t go well with the GQ cover look I’m going for, to be honest.”

“Well, maybe you should consider modeling for Land’s End if you don’t want to kill yourself in the winter that’s about to come!”

When she almost slips herself in her high-heeled boots, I offer her my arm. “Maybe you should start by taking your own advice, being on the Vogue side of the shoe department yourself!”

“I need all the height I can get, otherwise I won’t be able to see across the Starbucks counter.” I chuckle, taking another sip, my tongue still burning.

“Sooo how has your week been so far?” She goes on to tell me stories about her kids at school and the girls, then I tell her about my new case, as much as I’m allowed to, anyway. I also tell her about how my mother, while very helpful, is slowly driving me up the wall.

Skirting the fine line between friends and flirting, we never actually talk about what we are to each other now. I’m just glad we’re on speaking terms again and enjoy her company. Also, I’d rather chew my own arm off before I put myself into the friend zone voluntarily. We don’t arrange to meet anywhere else, like on a date - that would be like pouring gasoline over the line and setting the damn thing on fire.

We part ways with a short hug and head off in different directions, the coffee and something else warming us up from the inside.

—————

[ Teena ]

Over the course of the past few weeks, I’ve seen quite an improvement happening with my son, he’s not obsessing over work anymore and he seems to be getting better. Why, I can’t say, maybe it’s therapy, maybe it’s me taking care of him, maybe it’s something entirely different, like what’s happening during his walks on Tuesdays he keeps insisting on.

Either way, I’m glad that he’s doing better, I hate seeing him hurting.

Felix and I are spending a lot of quality time together and I marvel at the amazing child he’s become, despite his history. His mother is a piece of work in itself, she’s late every single time she picks him up from school, and this week, of course she does it again.

The call from Principal Skinner comes on the landline and I happen to be the one who takes it, which is how I found out about this situation in the first place. Felix doesn’t like to talk about it and, knowing my opinion of his ex-wife, Fox avoids talking to me about her like the plague.

The weekend passes, we talk, we cook, we laugh, we reminisce about the old days and I can’t wait for Sunday evening, when Felix returns with his mother.

She sends him into the house without coming in, which is rude in its own way, so I leave the two boys to themselves and step out of the house. “Diana, a word please.”

She’s surprised to see me there and I wonder if she talks to her son at all during those weekends because if she did, I’m sure he’d mention that I’m staying at their house for a while.

“I heard that you were late for pick-up again this Friday.” The defiant look she gives me is not new, I’ve seen it a thousand times when I tell her how I feel about her parenting abilities. She doesn’t think I have a say in the matter, but I’ve raised two children and I’m fiercely protective of them as well as my grandson.

“And…?,” she has the audacity to ask.

“It’s disrespectful to your child and his needs that you don’t seem to care enough to be on time. We’d appreciate it if you made an effort to be on time from now on. Goodnight.” Not waiting for a reply, I close the door in her face. I’ve said all I had to say.

—————

[ Felix ]

“… and a partrige in a pear treeee.” We finish singing all thousand verses of The 12 days of Christmas just before the bell rings for recess, proud that we mostly got it right. It’s really hard!

Sitting in my designated spot on the teacher’s bench, I take my chance of talking to Miss Anderson alone while Miss Scully is settling yet another fight between her kids on the playground.

“Hey Miss Anderson, can I ask you a favor?”

“Sure Felix, what’s up?”

“It’s about the trip to the Chocolate Factory on the last Thursday before Christmas. My dad’s coming on it too to chaperone and I was wondering if you could maybe put him with another group? I know it’s not very nice but I don’t want him to ruin my good reputation. He’s such a dork!” The last part I stage-whisper, to the laugh of Mrs. Anderson.

“It’s not very nice, no, but I get it, it’s no fun if your parents come on school trips. I’ll see what I can do, alright?”

An idea has formed in my head since the day dad told me he’d be coming on the school trip, an evil genius idea. I hope Miss Anderson will go along with it.

Feigning nonchalance, I swing my legs, pretending that this idea just popped into my head right now. This is the most important part in my evil plan so I need to get it right.

“Soooo… maybe we could put him with the fourth grade kids? They’re randy and loud and they fight so much, I think they need someone like dad to keep them in line!” That’ll teach him not to come on school trips anymore, hee hee.

Why Miss Anderson looks at me with surprise, I have no idea, but she agrees. Yes! My evil plan has been set in motion.

[shhhlikeme]

You know the working daddy captain fanart that you've reblogged recently.. I can't get Kuroo and his son out of my head so may I request a domestic married life au oneshot revolving around that particular fanart - him, his wife and their first kid, a toddler son? Fluffy and romantic, no angst please. If you're up to date with the manga maybe it could be based on post timeskip Kuroo? Thanks a lot!

DILF Day Care With Daddy Kuroo Tetsurō 🤱👼🍼 📆📈

(Fluffville)

‼️ TIMESKIP SPOILERS BELOW ‼️

———————————

“Yeah. Yeah. So that’s what I told Jim in marketing already. To send Bokuto to Tampa to surprise a Japanese little league team there and to send a camera crew with him. Kenma is already putting our ads on his YouTube channel—he told you what?! That he’s not doing it? Well did he say why?! That bratty cat, must have caught him on a bad day. Okay. No, I need this handled TODAY, Greg! Hold on, he will. He’s currently in Italy at some big video game tournament but I’ll stop by his office right now to work it out with his assistant. Just give me thirty minu—“

“Oh no you don’t, Kuroo Tetsuro!”

The wife of the sexiest businessman in the Japanese Volleyball Association Corporation set a cup of French vanilla coffee in front of her talkative husband before stomping her foot. Kuroo quickly covered the speaker part of the phone and gave you a pleading face.

“No!” You repeated. “I am going to Lev and Alisa’s Vogue Magazine cover day-party at their mansion. The babysitter is on vacation. Which means you and only you have to take River to his appointment cross-city.”

Giggling because he understood his own name, almost 2-year-old baby River Tetsurō blew bubbles with his own spit and clapped his tiny hands. Kuroo looked down at the miniature baby he held in his lap as he was on the phone. River looked up at his Daddy and Kuroo’s stomach tightened in return. He quickly said bye to his group call with the interns.

After marrying you 2 years ago, Tetsurō never thought he would love someone as much as he loved you....but he was happily mistaken 9 months after the honeymoon when little River Kuroo popped out.

***

“This is my son?” Kuroo, decked out in a light blue hospital dress—took his baby from the doctors hands. He was the first to hold him. He stared down at his son, already seeing the start of little jet black hairs pressed to his baby’s head.

“Yes.” The nurse grinned, moving Kuroo’s hand so that it was supporting the newborns neck.

Fresh tears sprung out of the ex-middle blocker’s eyes as he shuffled his son to one arm as he moved hastily to hold your hand and show you. He squeezed your hand and the tears kept pouring, showcasing the life you two just created to the wife he loved so much.

“Oh Kuroo....” you whispered drowsily as your eyes filled with tears also. You looked up at your husband in amazement. “He looks just like you.” You whisper to him and then sit up so that you can hold your beloved son yourself.

“Yeah, he does.” Kuroo handed him over to your weak arms, still keeping his hands under yours to support you and the baby. He kissed you on the side of your forehead and wiped your tears. “I love him so much already, Y/N. I love you so much.”

You smiled through your happy tears and leaned your head in to reciprocate Kuroo’s embrace, then leaned down to kiss your baby boy. After a few minutes of admiring him, you handed him back to Kuroo and told him to show the baby to your families and Kenma who were all still waiting in the waiting room. You knew Kenma seemed disinterested to others because he was on his video game, but all who knew him well knew that Kozume was only distracting himself because he was itching to meet his new Godson.

“Okay.” Kuroo whispered into your hair before taking River and planting a kiss on your lips.

***

Returning from his flashback, Kuroo realized that you were in the middle of lecturing him about the balance between work and parenting. He was a phenomenal father and he was there 95% of the time, but he was still a businessman and that meant sometimes he had to work more than he would like to.

Your son started to cry because he didn’t like seeing his mum worked up, so like second nature, Kuroo gave his two index fingers to River to grasp in his tiny hands. That, combined with his dad bouncing him on his the leg (which is exactly what Kuroo was doing) stopped River’s crying in its tracks. River loved holding onto his father’s fingers for some reason, it soothed him. Baby River blew more spit bubbles and giggled.

Kuroo watched you lecturing him, biting his lip because damn was his wife sexy when she was mad. You were all dressed up for this day party in a long black sundress that hugged your curves and as his eyes roamed your figure Kuroo decided that the amazing morning sex you two had earlier suddenly wasn’t enough.

“—Kuroo!! Are you even listening?!”

He returned his eyes back up to yours.

“Uh yes. Listening and undressing you with my eyes. Yep.”

You narrowed your eyes at your man then reached over the expensive island to use River’s bib to clean your son’s snot and spit off his babyface.

You leaned in for a kiss from River and the angel cutely bumped his face against yours, getting saliva all over you. You used his bib to wipe your face too.

“River, honey? Mommy is going to go and have some fun at a party that mommy put on the obvious calendar weeks ago.....the party that she has been excited about going to FOR MONTHS! So, baby boy, your annoying twin will take you to see Dr. Wimble this time because he shouldn’t be working on his days off anyway not to mention he promised, okay my Riv-honey?”

Kuroo deadpanned. “I hate when you speak to our son but you’re really talking to me.”

“Don’t care. I left both your boys’ breakfast is on the stove. And Don’t forget River’s diaper bag!” You stole a sip of your husband’s French vanilla before snatching the car keys and your purse off the island.

Kuroo tried to think about what he was going to do as he continued to bounce his son on his leg, his analytical brain running through dozens of scenarios in a matter of seconds. No matter how he spun it—though, the sexy businessman knew he wouldn’t be without his son today. Looking down at his spiky haired mini-me that looked back up at him with bright, happy eyes, Kuroo realized that—no matter how he spun it—nor would he desire to be without his son today.

“Wait, Y/N! What time is the appointm—“

“—Calendar! Use it!” You yelled dryly before you shut the door and headed to the car Kuroo bought you for Valentine’s Day.

Back inside, Kuroo dragged his son’s high chair next to him at the island and served him the kiddie breakfast you made. Your husband sat beside him, giving River his finger while he drank his coffee and ate his food with one hand. When both boys were done he picked up River and walked over to the calendar.

You were right: it was there. In plain capital permanent marker on today’s date:

It read:

RIVER’S APPOINTMENT - 3:30PM

HAIBA’S VOGUE PARTY - 1PM

DO NOT MAKE PLANS KUROO!

River giggled as if he was making fun of his father and Kuroo looked down at the love of his life. “River, should daddy piss mommy off and erase it so that daddy looks like he was right?”

River stopped giggling and pouted up at his daddy, his tiny lip quivering like he would cry if he did anything to upset mommy.

“Okay okay!” Said Kuroo hurriedly, giving his son his finger again so he’d stop crying. River smiled. “We have 2 and a half hours until your appointment Rivs, which is on the other side of town, and in between is Uncle Kenma’s office. So we will stop there on the way and then the park. Let’s go, son.”

The raven haired baby cheered. “YWAY DA!”

In 30 minutes flat, Kuroo was decked out in an elegant Armani navy blue business suit. He had every colour and material. He collected River’s diaper bag, packed snacks and his baby chest carrier.

Locking up, Kuroo buckled his son in the back of his 2020 Jag, checking thrice if he was safe in his car seat. Then, he clicked the button to play River’s favourite kid show on the car tv and handed him the stuffed cat Hinata got River for Christmas. It was his all time favourite toy.

Once Kuroo parked in front of Kenma’s high-rise office, he strapped on his baby carrier over his Armani suit and placed River in it. The tall and sexy businessman garnerned SO MANY stares as he looked PRIMO SEXY DILF as he locked his car and strutted inside Kenma’s office building with his son, pressing the elevator button. As he waited, he called his best friend who was in Italy. Kuroo held his phone in between his shoulder and cheek before he snapped at his friend.

“Kenma. Do you need me to hop on a plane with River and crash your video game tournament right now?! Because I will.”

There was murmuring on the other line.

Kuroo gasped.

“WHAT DO YOU MEAN RIVER CAN COME BUT I CAN’T?!”

River squealed loudly because he heard his name.

“Listen Kozume....... I have the keys to your loft, did you forget? You’ll come home to a mountain of River’s diapers in your game room if you back out now. You can’t just say no because my administrators are calling too much!!”

Baby River smiled cheekily and clapped his adorable hands as he rode the elevator with his daddy all the way up to his godfathers top floor.

That boy had a mother, father, godfather and a long list of pro volleyball player uncle’s who doted on him....

He couldn’t be happier.

————————————