#and this dude was like over six feet and fucking massive

[felinemotif]

I just give them my emotional baggage and tell them I'm depressed and they lose interest quickly and avoid me.

you’re so real for that honestly xD not even ten minutes after i made that post one of my friends came to me complaining abt this guy on her campus always oversharing with her & it’s like!! need men to realize that being nice/cordial is not an invitation to hook up ://

[theoddcatlady]

Crimson Wings

My husband Shaun and I love… well, loved, camping. We would go all year around, snow and rain was no object. We didn’t have kids and our trips didn’t have to be long, we’d pack up on Friday and be back on Sunday night when we couldn’t get any time off.

Last July we’d managed to scrounge up enough PTO for a whole week trip. We were heading down to Tennessee and it was going to be one of our best trips yet.

Our campsite was right smack dab in between two others. The family on our right were the Schultz family. They were the new to the whole camping thing, I had to end up going there to help the guy out with his fire. Greg was grateful though and he could grill with the best of them. His wife Anna was mostly fussed with taking care of their four year old daughter Genesis, but their son Ace was a treasure. He kept coming over to our campsite to tell us stories about giant bears that they’d seen while driving here. Shaun took to him and would swap even more ridiculous tales with the creative six year old.

On our other side was a group of young men out for one last trip before one of them got married. I only really talked with two of them, Brian and Phil, the husband to be and his best friend. They were a bit rowdy but they kept it to the daylight hours and they weren’t being gross so for the most part we ignored them.

There was one trouble maker though- fucking Gavin. Gavin is to blame for all of this. He was the one who kicked the hornet’s nest… literally.

The Schultzes had joined us for dinner on the third day, we’d gone fishing with Greg and Shaun had the kids captivated with a big fish tale when I heard a giant hullabaloo coming from the guy’s camp.

“The heck?” I murmured as I got to my feet, craning my neck to get a better look. I could only see that the guys were wigging out over there.

Shaun waved them off. “Ignore the kids, they probably saw a squirrel or something,” He said.

I frowned. That didn’t sound like excitement, it sounded like… anger. “I’ll be right back, if they’re pissy drunks then I’m gonna say we’re moving our campsite tonight,” I said, stepping over the log I’d used as a seat and walked on over.

One of the guys was giggling like a maniac and I could smell weed on him. The guys were all gathered around something on the ground and Phil was scowling. “Gavin, kick that shit back into the woods!” He said.

Gavin giggled again. “But dude! It’s sooooo big man! Greg’s really gotta see this!”

“He can’t see it you fucking idiot! He’s allergic!”

“Doesn’t he have an Epipen?”

“Oh my god I want to kill you.”

I got closer and finally got a glimpse of what they were freaking out about. It was a massive hornet’s nest, probably a bit bigger that a soccer ball, sitting at the guys’ feet. I could faintly hear the buzzing inside. “Guys, can you please get rid of that thing? You’re lucky none of you have been stung yet,” I scolded.

Phil looked up and threw his arms up in the air. “I’m trying, believe me,” He said through gritted teeth, “but Gavin is an idiot.”

“Awwww, but look at it!” Gavin gestured at it. “It’s soooo cool! The bees are cool too man, one was like, crawling all over my hand and didn’t sting me or nothing! Greg would be fine!”

Phil looked ready to sock Gavin in the mouth before I stepped forward. “Knock it off, I’ll get rid of it.” Wondering if the nest was just konked out from all the smoke from our campfires, I knelt next to the nest and gently lifted it in the air.

A cherry red hornet crawled out of one of the holes. My skin crawled as it gently brushed against my hand, I was lucky I didn’t drop the damn thing. It didn’t seemed particularly offended as I carried it past the treeline and carefully sat it down. I know, that was the stupidest thing I could’ve done, but I thought the nest was either mostly empty or this was a bizarre species of hornet that was really hard to piss off.

I headed back to camp and told them all about it. Ace immediately demanded to see it, his mom shot that idea down and then Greg said dinner was ready, and the easiest way to distract a kid is with food. By the time we’d finished dinner, Ace had all but forgot about the nest. So had I, until I heard shouting again.

This time I could pick out about every third word. I could tell it was Phil, losing his shit on Gavin for bringing the nest back into camp. Gavin kept whining and said the nest was friendly and that the hornets could be their pets. I looked over in time to see Phil shove Gavin and for Gavin to drop the nest.

I heard that thing crack when it hit the ground.

I smelled something like sulfur and suddenly that quiet buzzing I’d heard earlier was magnified a hundred fold. It was deafening, I could almost taste the sound. Ace and Genesis immediately started screaming, clapping their hands over their sensitive little ears as the rest of us instinctively ducked. As if that could protect us from what was about to happen.

The sky turned red with the bodies of thousands of red hornets. Far more than what could possible fit in the nest. Then they dive bombed. I felt one light on my arm before its stinger jabbed in. I screamed and crushed it with a single swat, but the damage had been done. My arm seized up and exploded in pain. I had broken my arm before. This was so, so much fucking worse.

With the last semblance of sense I had, I dragged myself to the tent and hurled myself inside. Shaun ran up, I saw hornets crawling in and out of his shirt as he dragged Ace along. He pushed Ace into the tent before running back to where Anna was crouched, she’d thrown herself over Genesis to shield her from the stinging.

Ace was wailing, rocking himself back and forth as I held the tent flap up to prevent any wasps from getting in. I felt my arm randomly spasm, and whenever it did I felt another wave of pain hit me. I couldn’t ask Ace if he was okay, if he’d been stung, the only thing I could do was scream at the top of my lungs.

The tent door was shoved back open and Genesis was tossed into the tent. Before I could move, Shaun collapsed on top of me and began to bawl like a baby. I managed to crawl out from under him and zipped the tent door shut.

After that, I let myself fully succumbed to the pain.

I don’t know how long it went on. There’s no way to fully describe how bad this was. Time didn’t make it any better. If anything it got so much fucking worse. I could sometimes hear Anna screaming but those stopped before it was dark outside. The buzzing never stopped. It seemed like it would never stop.

I vomited on myself sometime during the night. I swear I saw things from how bad the pain was. Dark figures moving past the tent, walking trees, the tent catching on fire and burning poor Genesis alive… then I’d blink and the fire would be gone. Genesis would still be crying and there was nothing outside the tent but the goddamn hornets.

Passing out was a mercy. When I woke up, the buzzing had quieted down to almost nothing. The two children were asleep on each other, snoring quietly.

Shaun’s lifeless eyes stared up at the ceiling of the tent, several swollen purple and red bumps covering his entire body to the point he was barely recognizable. I think he’d been stung a few dozen times saving Genesis and Ace. And he’d paid with it with his life.

I tried to shake him awake, I begged him to wake up with my voice hoarse from all the screaming, but he didn’t. He was gone.

I slipped out of the tent and nearly tripped over Greg’s body. He’d tried making it into our tent, his sting covered hand was still reaching for the zipper. Anna was at the forest’s edge, slumped over a tree stump.

I almost wished Gavin was still alive so I could wring his fucking neck, but he was a few yards away from where I found Anna. The bachelor party laid in various positions on the ground, all covered in uncountable stings.

But I wasn’t alone.

I tripped over Phil and a few others, seeing if any of them had survived when I saw her.

For a second, she looked… normal. A red haired teenager, no older than fourteen or fifteen, wearing a teal t-shirt and cargo shorts. I nearly sobbed as I hurried to her, babbling out nonsense about the hornets.

Then I saw she had a few dozen of them sitting on her shoulders.

I came to a stop as the girl cocked her head to the side.

“… You didn’t mean to hurt them. But they didn’t know that,” She said softly, blinking and dark brown eyes turning into black compound. Translucent crimson wings protruded from her back, occasionally twitching.

I couldn’t believe my eyes as she came closer, I saw even more hornets crawling on her skin, flying in and out from her pockets and shirt. She knelt by my side and her soft fingers brushed the swollen sting on my arm. Without a word, she squeezed it and it popped. I screamed and nearly passed out again before it all went numb.

A brand new hornet crawled out from the popped wound, cleaning off its antenna and wings of blood. The girl smiled and took it into her hands, placing it in her mouth.

“Many of my family died today, but yours will provide replacements.” She winked, as if she was sharing a joke, and whistled a tune as she walked away.

Every body burst at that moment. The air was filled with a soft hum as hornets rose from the corpses, following the winged girl into the forest, where they all vanished.

No, I was never given an explanation when I was taken to the hospital. They didn’t bother. No one had a clue what happened out there. From what I heard, Ace and Genesis have both gone completely deaf. I don’t know if it’s a psychological thing or a physical one, but there’s hope with hearing aids and therapy they can recover.

I can’t move my right arm anymore. I’m still in therapy but it’s looking like I’ll never be able to use it again. I ended up quitting my job, I get by on disability. I can never sleep because my dreams are just of buzzing and screams. Occasionally I’ll feel stabs of pain in my dead arm when I wake up from these nightmares.

And sometimes when I wake up, I think I see that winged girl standing at the foot of my bed, smiling with scarlet hornets crawling over her teeth.

[loudsnapdragon]

it's a sex shop fic.

Buy Local: Steve Harrington's Guide to Modern Sexuality

steve/eddie. mature. 49,000 words, 5/5 chapters. background platonic stobin, nancy/jonathan, and robin/vickie. read on ao3 here, loudsnapdragon.

Amid the crotchless lingerie and silicone dildoes that litter the floor of Hawkins’ worst and best and only Adult Store, Steve undergoes a very short, and not very stressful sexuality crisis; Robin fails to lose her virginity; and Eddie refuses to admit why he doesn’t use Grindr. It’s not what Steve expected out of life, definitely not what Steve's dad expected out of his life either, but Steve’s not complaining, well, not until he ends up locked in the stockroom, with nothing more than a bag of genitalia-shaped candy, and a prudish Eddie Munson to keep him entertained, with their least favourite gun-carrying regular tearing apart the merchandise outside.

‘Co-captain’s log, the time is…’ Steve checks his watch. ‘4:47pm, the date is 06/10/23, we are currently locked-’

‘You cannot be serious.’

Steve snaps his head away from the security camera positioned in the high corner of the stock room, scowling at Eddie, who sits jaw-dropped, eyebrows set in a furious line, legs sprawled out on the floor, his elbows wresting on a cardboard box marked Penis-Enhancer 2000.

‘What else am I going to do? Dude, we just have to wait this out. I pressed the panic button. The police will be here soon. Might as well be productive.’

Outside the stock room, there’s a loud thump, a swooping noise, followed by the quiet woosh of air escaping an inflatable. Steve winces. Unlucky Doris.

Eddie pulls at his hair with both hands, his feet bouncing faster. ‘How is that being productive?’

‘It’s how me and Robin pass on notes, don’t be a dick. Just calm down and shut up.’ He turns back round to the camera. ‘It’s the sixth of October, and we are currently locked inside the stock room…’

There’s another bang from outside the stock room, the sound of Rodney’s muffled cursing, then a shelf falling over, a clattering of small boxes hitting the floor. Steve silently mourns his beautifully organised DVD displays.

Eddie clumsily jumps up onto his long legs, belt chains clanking on the cement floor, knocking over a box of skin rags in the process, starting to pace manically around Steve. ‘We’ve gotta do something! He has a gun.’

Steve shrugs from the floor. ‘It’s just Rodney.’

‘It’s just Rodney? How can you be so chill? He’s tearing your store apart!’

Steve rolls his eyes, giving up on his captain’s log. ‘Dude, this is like the third time this has happened to me. I don’t really care anymore. Ms. Scarlet has insurance, she’ll be fine.’

From the sounds of it, Doris will be the only casualty, which is a shame, Steve had grown quite fond of the inflatable sex doll.

read more under the cut.

Eddie stops his frantic circling around the six-foot square space. ‘This store has been robbed two times already?’

‘Oh, I dunno, probably, Ms. Scarlet seems prepared, but the other robberies weren’t here.’ Steve yanks Eddie down by the shins, because he just can’t deal with the unnecessary panic right now. ‘That was at Scoops.’

‘Who the fuck does a stick-up at an ice cream parlour?’ Eddie says, confused, which is good, maybe if he’s distracted, he’ll give up with the fretting. He settles beside Steve, leather pants tacky as he wraps his arms around his knees, feet still bouncing.

‘Two guys who massively overestimated the value of vanilla milkshakes.’ Steve says, planting a hand on Eddie’s thigh to stop it shaking, only resulting in Eddie striking it off with a scowl.

Steve laughs, ‘Oh, I forgot there was a robbery at Family Video too, but I wasn’t working that day. And there was this car chase at the drive through, same day that me and Robin got locked in overnight, but that was just the kids messing with us.’

Eddie skews his eyes. ‘Dustin?’

‘Nah, not him. Will and Mike.’

‘Will?’ Eddie asks, tilting his head, surprised. ‘I mean Mike, sure. But Will? I did not expect that for him.’

‘He’s a schemer when he wants to be. He got pissy when I refused to give them free milkshakes on their big date. He pickpocketed the building keys off Robin when she wasn’t paying attention.’

Eddie smiles, feet slowly stilling. ‘Good for him. The boy deserves some mischief.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Steve scoffs. ‘We’d just finished a ten-hour shift. I was exhausted. Have you ever been forced to make an emergency bed out of hamburger buns? Have you?’

Eddie’s eyes glint in the stock room’s dim light, and he laughs as he fiddles with his hair, curled round his finger, long line of his neck white and gleaming; and Steve considers, not for the first time, there’s danger here, in the trapped box of a stockroom. They’re locked there, their phones lying dead and smashed behind the door, waiting until the police arrive as Steve’s least favourite regular throws a weaponised hissy fit outside.

‘Be honest, was that the worst place you’ve ever fallen asleep?’ Eddie asks, with a knowing lilt.

Steve sighs, smiles despite it. ‘Obviously not. The worst place was last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘Yeah. I swear, my Grindr date’s bed was stuffed full of rocks.’

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back, opens his mouth to speak, stops at the sound of a bullet pinging off the stock room door.

Steve turns to it, bolted from the inside. There’s another bang, a loud crash, then presumably what must be Rodney chuckling to himself.

Steve glances over at the screen with the different security camera views by the light switch, where all the store’s cameras are still very much covered in the silly string Rodney brought along, pink and orange lines dripping over the three of the four views, the fourth one just a grey-scale square in the corner, showing Steve and Eddie hauled up in the stockroom, looking like off-duty actors caught behind the scenes. 

Eddie starts biting his lip so hard it’s going bright red. ‘Fuck. Fuck. He has a gun! Steve, he has a gun!’

Steve pats his shoulder. ‘The door is like, titanium, or something. Ms. Scarlet says it’s bulletproof.’

‘Thank God.’ Eddie exhales, raises his hand to cover Steve’s, skin on skin, then a second later, blushes, and shakes it away. Steve can’t help but smirk.

‘This never happened upstairs, we’ve never had a robbery.’ 

‘Huh. I woulda’ thought a vape store would get tonnes of this shit.’

‘No.’ Eddie says, his legs practically hovering off the floor. ‘Not once. Never had it at the record store either.’

‘Was the record store your only other job?’ Steve asks, trying to find a conversation that will take Eddie’s mind of the madman outside. Probably rude to call Rodney a madman, like he’s an asshole, obviously, but it’s not his fault he has a couple screws loose.

‘Yeah, yeah. Only other legal job.’ Eddie says, unravelling his legs, almost relaxing. ‘Started working there at sixteen, stayed there four years. Then it closed, and… well… you know how my move to the city went after that. But shit man, I can still remember how bummed I was when Andy said he was going to sell the place.’

‘I get it, fucking pain in my ass when Family Video closed.’ Steve says, ‘And Scoops, and Benny’s, and Holloway Press, and Merrill’s farm, and the library, and…’

‘Christ.’ Eddie interrupts. He does that all the time. ‘How many jobs have you had? How did ya’ even get all them?’

Steve doesn’t try counting, he’d need his resume to know for sure. ‘Robin’s good at applications.’

Eddie snorts. ‘You get Robin to apply for all your jobs?’

‘Yeah. We’re a package team, she’s not going anywhere I can’t follow.’

‘Cute.’ Eddie rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his only-slightly shaky knee. ‘Soo how did you end up here? At this wonderful, titanium protected, sex emporium? She sent in an application for you both?’

Steve kicks out his legs and raises his eyebrows. The door remains shut, the barrage of Rodney’s destruction filtering through the cracks.

‘Actually, that was all me.’

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Hawkins has always been a shit hole, but in the years following Steve and Robin’s consecutive high school graduations, it’s become an all-encompassing shit crater; a chasm devouring and destroying all hope for the few youths that remain in their backwash hometown. Every local store closing, most of the big businesses vacating, Family Video first, but hey, can’t blame them. Personally, Steve blames Netflix, streaming is killing the little guys, people just don’t appreciate a good DVD these days.

Benny’s drive through-was the saddest closure, but the man was just retiring early, couldn’t be assed competing with the McDonalds down the highway. Steve didn’t really give a shit when the newspaper stopped printing, other than losing out on that sweet dental insurance and his last pay cheque. Tom Holloway, the rat bastard, still owes him $558. But Nancy was real torn up, practically mourning the local paper, had a very detailed argument explaining why late-stage capitalism was murdering independent journalism, which Steve failed to keep up with, too busy trying to surreptitiously text Robin under the diner table, asking her if she had any luck with their application at Walmart.

Robin is forging an escape route, halfway done at the community college in the town over, but she’s still bunking with her parents, still pretending to be dating Steve to survive scrutinising questions at weekly family meals; saving up cash for the fancy, probably single sex dorm rooms at whatever stupid, liberal arts school on the East Coast she’ll eventually run away to. Yes, Steve is bitter about her plans to move away, but never enough to try to stop her. So, for now, they still spend their weekends together, driving the pot-holed roads and empty streets, past the burnt-out crisp of Starcourt mall and the bug infested corn fields, singing along to the cheesy local radio stations, and gossiping about all the other losers still clinging on to their hometown by their fingernails.

They’re both very experienced, very bored, and very, very desperate for cash; like most other twenty somethings stuck in the Midwest; and with the rent on the tiny apartment in Steve’s shabby complex only getting higher, and the scholarships Robin’s applying to only getting more competitive; their desperate job hunting driving around the edges of Hawkins eventually leads to the sign-less warehouses just past the town boundary, where the sidewalk stops, the windows are painted black, and the posters promise: a clean and confidential experience.

Robin slams the car door after jumping out the passenger seat. Steve scowls, and she huffs, before gently petting the door and cooing. He accepts this apology on his Beamer’s behalf with a tight-lipped nod.

She twitches her nose as she looks up and down the strip. ‘Steve, are you sure about this?’

‘Not really, but hey? Can’t do any harm.’

A literal tumbleweed rolls over their feet. A crow caws from its stoop on a rickety drainpipe. A barefoot woman in a massive trench coat stumbles out the back entrance of the farthest warehouse, lighting her cigarette, pushing away her silver wig to glare at them over a cloud of smoke.

‘I’m feeling like it could do some harm.’

‘We could do worse.’ He says, ‘Come on.’

[alarawriting]

Fuuuck... accidentally posted to the wrong account against.

Have a thing I'm working on instead of a rant that belonged on my main blog, instead. ****

You are very confused about how you got here, and moreover, what here even is. The last thing you remember, you were cramming for your Organic Chemistry final, it was like 4 or 5 am – you were scared of looking at the clock too often, so you’d been avoiding it – and it was so hard to stay awake, despite the six espressos, three Jolt colas, five regular Cokes, three energy drinks, and caffeine pill you had taken, but you were trying to force yourself to read over the text and repeat to yourself everything it said. The exam was going to be at 8 am and you needed to do well. Your entire future depended on it. You remember having a massive headache and thinking you should go find some Advil, and then deciding against it because you couldn’t spare the time from studying.

Now you’re in a large… cavern? Throne room? Temple? The room’s enormous, with walls that look like white marble glittering with embedded crystal, and you are standing in front of a winged unicorn, a human-sized bunny rabbit who is standing on its haunches and has six – arms? Forelimbs? It looks kind of like what if Shiva was a fluffy grey bunny rabbit? – and a Chinese dragon. The Chinese dragon is small for a dragon, maybe 10 or 12 feet long but it’s coiled around itself, looped tightly enough that its head is about, maybe 8 feet high. The unicorn is the size of a racehorse. The three entities occupy a dais in the middle of the room, with some sort of flame-like background that is in rainbow colors, and oh shit, obviously you are dreaming. Fuck. You need to wake yourself up now.

“Leo Chen?” the unicorn asks. Her lips move, but not like a human saying the words “Leo Chen” would move. You can’t lip read but you know whatever it was her horse lips are saying, it’s not what you’re hearing. Like a bad dub. Shit. Too many Godzilla movies. Netflix dubs are a lot better than this.

“Look, this is great and all and I’m sure I would normally love this dream, but I’ve got to study for my orgo final that is happening something like three hours from now, so I think I need to wake up.”

You do not wake up. Normally when your dreams go lucid and you realize, oh right, Grandma’s actually dead, or Jesus I am about to get hit by a bus except this isn’t real and I’m dreaming, or whatever, you wake up. This is not always in your favor. The dream where Jeff Whittaker turned out to be gay and have a crush on you and the two of you were going to go on a date and then you remembered, wait, gay or not there is no way he’s gonna want to date me, and then you realized it was a dream, you tried very hard to not wake up, but it didn’t work. Realizing it’s a dream wakes you up. So why aren’t you waking up?

The Chinese dragon is laughing at you. Chortling. You didn’t think anyone ever really chortled, that was a word Lewis Carroll made up, but no, he’s chortling. “Oh, dear. Another one of the ‘it’s a dream’ ones.”

The bunny rabbit says, in a very butch lesbian voice, “Yeah, sorry, dude. It’s not a dream and you don’t have an orgo final anymore.”

“I do have an orgo final! In three hours! Or less, depending on how long I’ve been asleep!”

In a gentle, musical, feminine voice, the winged unicorn says, “I’m so sorry, Leo. You’re not asleep.”

“You’re dead,” the rabbit says.

The unicorn glares at the rabbit. “Petra, do you need to be so blunt about it?”

“Oh, you could have me tell him,” the Chinese dragon says. “You’re pushing up daisies! Not pining for the fjords! Kicked the bucket! You are an ex-human!”

“And you, Hundun, do not need to be cruel about it.” The unicorn looks right at you. For the first time you notice that she has predator eyes, facing you, not the side-eyes typical of a horse. Also, they are purple. This is plainly shit your brain got out of The Last Unicorn or maybe My Little Pony �� in fact, with a winged white unicorn and a black and gold Chinese dragon, this is a lot like My Little Pony.

“No, I’m definitely dreaming,” you say confidently. “You look waaaay too much like characters from My Little Pony. Except the bunny, I don’t know where my brain got you.”

The Chinese dragon laughs again. He is not voice-acted by John de Lancie, but the general tone and pitch of his voice aren’t entirely dissimilar. “I knew it was going to bite us in the ass someday that we sent someone back.”

“Hush, Hundun. The young man is dealing with a lot right now.”

The rabbit says, “Look, I’m sorry. You’re dead and we brought you here because we need people like you.”

You roll your eyes. “Oh, Jesus, it’s an isekai. I’m the Chosen One? The Hero who’s destined to fight the Demon Lord or some shit like that? That’s not even vaguely believable. I’m an overweight biochem major shooting for medical school. I’ve never fought anything if you don’t count video games and frankly I don’t even like JRPGs where you swing a sword around and kill things. There is no way I would ever be some kind of special chosen one.”

“You’re right,” the rabbit says. “You’re not actually special.”

“At all,” the Chinese dragon says. “You are, in many ways, miserably average. I mean, I’ll give you this, you’re smart and hardworking. Well, at least the hard working part, given that you just gave yourself an aneurysm studying for an exam. I can’t help but think that if you were smart you could have avoided that.”

You’d had a terrible headache.

No. Bullshit. You’re not dead, this is an anxiety dream because of the headache making you feel like you were going to have a stroke. That’s a figure of speech. Guys your age do not actually have strokes, not even if they’ve been up for 32 hours writing papers and studying for exams and have been mainlining caffeine and energy drinks the entire time. The one dose of Adderall you were able to get from your roommate’s friend would have worn off a long time ago, that was more than 12 hours ago.

“Lemme guess,” you say. “You’re the Power of Kindness” – you point at the unicorn – “you’re the Power of Honesty—” the rabbit—“and you’re the Power of Being An Asshole.”

All three of them start laughing hysterically at this.

“He has you figured, Hundun,” the rabbit says.

“Oh, absolutely! And Eufy, all ‘pwetty pwease people don’t be mean to each over…’”

“It is true you’re fairly blunt, Petra,” the unicorn says, chuckling. “As for Hundun… we need to work together so let’s not go there.”

“It’s more like Order, Chaos and Harmony,” Petra, which is apparently the rabbit’s name, says.

“Called it. This is some kind of weird MLP fanfic my brain is making up,” you say.

“Or Change and Transformation, Stability, and the necessary balance between them that allows life to exist,” the unicorn says. “Or Rebellion, Doing What You’re Told, and Working Things Out. Conflict, Top-Down Unity via Enforcement, and Collaboration. Fire, earth and water.”

“So where’s air?” you ask skeptically.

Hundun the Chinese dragon sighs dramatically. “STEM students. Have you never heard of an analogy?”

“The Trains Run On Time, The Trains May Be Somewhat Delayed Because There Are a Lot of Trains, and When the Fuck Is This Train Showing Up?” Petra says.

“And you’re not making any of this up,” Hundun says, “because, trust me, you’re not that imaginative.”

[racingtoaredlight]

St. Helens

I always knew about the eruption of the volcano under Mt. St. Helens, but I listened to a podcast about this dude’s experience on there that fucking blew me away and sent me in a deep dive.

The video at the top is one probably most of us are familiar with...it sets the stage for two critical elements of the story I heard.  First, they didn’t expect it to erupt sideways.  Second, this was the largest landslide in recorded human history...over a mile of the mountain’s north face was displaced.  From beginning signs of eruption to the aftermath, St. Helens lost 1,300 feet of elevation.

The mountain had been bulging like a pregnant zit for weeks.  Just swelling up more and more, causing all sorts of shit.  There were more earthquakes in six weeks here than the state of California experiences in an entire decade.  Think about that for a second...

***

Lets talk about the landslide...

The video I’m about to post is the aftermath of Seattle KOMO cameraman Dave Crockett’s chase.  Chase is the perfect word for it because here are the estimates for the speed of the debris tsunami that was racing after him...initial speeds after the eruption were likely 200mph, reaching critical speeds of over 600mph that were capable of breaking the sound barrier.

Let me put this in perspective...the governement issued a safety radius of 7 miles.  The landslide and all its mass traveled over 7 miles in just over 10 minutes.

Crockett jumped in his car, had this feeling and kept checking his rearview mirror.  All of the sudden, he saw a giant wave of mud, ice, boulders, entire tree trunks and other assorted forest detritus melded together by magma and thick ash, that was about the height of a 3-story building...bulldozing and entire forest of trees in its path.  Here’s an idea of how powerful this landslide was...

*this massive tree was absolutely shredded by the blast itself

*note the humans circled in the bottom right corner for scale

When he looked back towards the road, he saw another giant wave cut across in front of him...he immediately swerved, and by the grace of god, landed on an unused forest road that was somehow safe from all these landslides...got out of his car and started rolling.

I’ve watched the whole video.  It’s honestly kind of boring until things get worse and worse...and it’s still kinda boring because it’s pitch black ash all around him.  His survival is so outrageously lucky, it’s almost impossible to comprehend.

***

The first pic in this section is two pictures taken by photographer Robert Landsburg a few minutes apart.  The second is his camera.  There are supposed images of his car too, but I think they’re mislabeled and actually the car of another photographer lost in the eruption, Reid Blackburn.

The thing is, they knew it was going to erupt...putting up safety radii and warning people and shit...but nobody knew when.  The mountain just kept bulging, getting more and more pregnant...earthquakes were a matter of daily life at that point and the timing couldn’t really tell...so you had a few dudes up there still taking pictures and doing science stuff.

And, like I said above,.the other thing was that nobody expected the volcano to erupt sideways like it did either...

Landsburg must have known he was already dead.  He snapped these pictures, climbed in the car, put the film from his camera back in its case, threw all the stuff into his backpack, and shielded it with his body hoping to preserve it.  They found his body 17 days later, the film miraculously in tact (if not a little damaged).

In that first picture, use the treeline for context...those pictures are a few minutes apart, and yet look at the sheer size of that oncoming hellscape and think about how fast it was moving.  There was no escape from that kind of power.

***

There’s no point or conclusion to this...just blew my mind.

The lake adjacent to St. Helens, Spirit Lake, took the biggest brunt of the blast.  Almost directly in line with the massive sideways displacement and ensuing landslide, the lake’s water was completely slammed to one side of the lake...

If you know anything about tsunami’s, you’ll know I’m describing one right now.  When all that debris slammed into Spirit Lake and shoved the water to one side...it comes back, you know.  The science is pretty well known for shit like this, and judging by the displacement and speed, the ensuing wave of water rushing back would’ve been about 600 feet high.

43 years later, this is what the lake looks like now.  Go to 1:06:00 in the video below.

It’s really incredible shit. 

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Autumn asks, “Where do you want these?”, gesturing to the two blankets and slippers stacked on top.

“Just on the counter is fine, thanks,” Harry says.

Autumn does as he says and then stands there with baited breath. Y/N’s not sure what she’s expecting. For Harry to ask for her hand in marriage or something? But he just glances between the two women. His own foot begins wiggling in impatience.

“Busy day,” He attempts at dismissing her once again - with kindness.

“Oh my gosh, totally!” Autumn gushes, starting to go off on all of the tasks she has to do. She stands so close to Harry, Y/N genuinely thinks she’s going to sit in his lap. Y/N stares up to the ceiling, begging god or whoever to end her misery right there and then.

Harry sees Y/N’s expression and tries to maintain the neutral expression he’s had for the entirely too long interaction. A smile threatens at his rosey lips that had chapped from the morning air.

“Right, well,” he cuts off Autumn, “Y/N needs to get back to tattoo coverage, I think. So...have a nice day.”

Autumn’s eyes widen like she forgot that there was anyone else in the room and steps back from Harry. Y/N nods, a grimace clear on her face. Autumn gives her the same small she used to get from the popular girls in high school when she happened to be talking to their cool guy friend that they wanted to be more than friends with. Sickeningly sweet and completely fake. She could see the contempt in Autumn’s eyes that swirled just beneath the surface of her perfectly outlined green-ish eyes.

“Okay! You too, Harry!” She begins walking to the door and Y/N takes her seat again, closing her eyes and counting to ten. “And Y/N,” Autumn adds as an afterthought.

“Oh my fucking god,” Y/N sighs, her hands going to rub over her face and through her hair. “That was exhausting. Jesus Christ.”

“What? She’s nice. Maybe a little clueless,” Harry counters. “But she was so nice,” he confirms again, seemingly trying to convince himself of it as well.  

She grabs the slippers and slips them on the ground so Harry can put them on easily. Then one of the blankets that she drapes over Harry’s bottom half. He smiles at the gesture, a ‘thank you’ said in a whisper.

“Please, she knows what she’s doing,” Y/N scoffs, “And she’s obsessed with you!” She grabs the concealer to get back to work, “She was all over you and never took her eyes off of your body. It was like she wanted to touch you or something. It was icky.”

“You touch me,” Harry adds cheekily, adjusting beneath the warm blanket.

She laughs, a smile gracing her lips as she gives Harry a look. He was clever.

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

Harry had really tried to not laugh, but it was just so funny. They both snicker, their eyes meeting for a moment longer than usual.

“Speaking of my job,” she adds after controlling her laughter, “Does she not realize just how long it takes to cover all of your bloody tattoos with this shit to make it look like you’re a pristine skinned 50’s psycho killer?”

She finishes the rose coverup and moves to the ship. Harry nods solemnly.

“It’s true...And it doesn’t help that you’re terrible at it, so it takes a thousand years longer than it should.” He adds, laughter overtaking his serious tone at the end.

“Oh my god!” She shrieks in delight, trying not to mess up her work, “That is so rude! I messed up one time - mostly because of you, by the way. And give me a break, this is so not what I thought I’d be doing as a makeup artist for movies.”

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

They grow silent, enjoying Goodbye Yellow Brick Road, the album that she had queued after Joni’s.

“The body thing, I just learned to ignore it, I think.” Harry mutters, eventually, but it’s thoughtless, like he’s not revealing anything about himself with the statement. But it kind of shocks her. Her eyes widen and she stops her work to stare at his face.

“Harry,” she waits till his eyes meet hers, “That’s, like, not normal. Are you serious?”

“I mean, I’m very comfortable with my body, like I haven’t minded the last 45 minutes of sitting practically nude in front of you. And I have plenty of revealing photos out in the world. I just don’t notice staring anymore, it’s not, I don’t think it’s what you’re thinking,” he tries to reassure her. His eyes are intent on hers, full of seriousness that hadn’t been there a few moments ago.

“It’s one thing to be comfortable in your skin and another to be desensitized to objectification,” she insists.

He nods. “I know. Thank you. I would let you know if what she had done had bothered me, so don’t worry. I felt completely safe the whole time.”

“Good,” she nods back and concentrates again. “Good,” she repeats once more under her breath. There had been way too many distractions already today and she wasn’t even done with his arm yet.

As she continues to work up his arm, Harry sings along to some of the songs on Elton’s album. He happily taps his feet to the different beats, now safely tucked in soft fluffy slippers. She would never admit just how amazing it is to be in the same room as Harry’s singing. It was truly special to be less than a foot from him and hear him sing just under the unique voice of Elton - who was someone he actually knew, which was equally as cool.

He hit every note and knew every word. She was impressed. How could she not be when a literal rockstar sat before her? This was the first time she was truly starstruck by her charge, Mr. Harry Styles.

By two hours, they had moved onto an album by Dolly Parton and they were both singing. They strangely had no fights today, maybe some snarky comments from both of them, but no outright mean-spirited words were exchanged.

She stood in front of Harry, finishing up the swallows. She had finished both arms and the birds, all she had left was moving down his body. Up next, the butterfly.

“I love this tattoo,” she mumbles, twisting Harry’s standing body to face her and taking her seat again. This left her eye to eye with the butterfly on his stomach.

He makes a surprised face and raises his recently plucked eyebrow at his counterpart. “Oh really?”

“Don’t act so surprised. I told you day one that not all of them are rubbish and honestly they’re all pretty cool. I just was so annoyed that I had gotten tattoo coverage as my job and then I had to go and index them all.” She flicks her eyes up to his sculpted face and sees he’s watching her work. “Plus, I have some butterflies of my own, remember?” She grins.

“Yeah,” he ponders her words, “I don’t think that’d put me in a good mood either.”

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

“So what’s your excuse for the second day then?”

“You provoked me,” she doesn’t spare him a glance, shrugging like it was the simplest answer in the world.

“Pardon?”

“Let’s not go down this road again, Harry.” She sighs, smoothing over the freshly covered butterfly tattoo. His sternum looked so naked, it was unnerving. Now the ferns.

Harry involuntarily shivered when her fingers traced over the ferns lightly, taking note of the expanse of skin she’d have to cover.

“You’re right,” he agrees, “But agree to disagree on the provocation.”

“Sure,” she says curtly, focusing on his skin and her job.

The expanse of skin that the ferns inhabited was slightly fleshy and especially soft. It bordered where his boxers began and she ignored that part of his body completely. It was of no importance to her and she really had no issue blocking it from her vision, even when it was right in front of her. She finishes one fern with Harry jumping only twice from her cold hands. He couldn’t put his robe on until the makeup had all set for half an hour so he’d have to be cold for possibly another hour still.

She traces the fern that is still visible and Harry shivers. She instinctively shushes him softly and his body quiets. As she works, her hair splays around her shoulders and Harry looks down at her working and doesn’t realize what his hand is doing until it’s too late. His right hand runs over her hair, smoothing it out of her face. It was rarely ever down, so it must have been the novelty of it.

“Sorry, I-” he chokes out when he jerks his hand back.

She sits back, slightly taken aback. Her body flushes just from their positioning and what a hair caress would mean normally in this position, but she’s a professional and she shakes it off.

“It’s fine. We’re even.” She assures him, breaking eye contact with his own wide eyes. “Seems like we’re both hair touchers.”

“It’s just so soothing,” Harry muses. “I think it’s human instinct to touch other people’s hair since it’s so enjoyable for yourself.”

“Possibly,” her voice raises, his thought was definitely plausible. Or maybe they were just two touch starved people who were very much in each other’s personal space 24/7.

At the two and a half hour marker, she gets a walkie message from Olivia’s assistant asking when they’d be done. She had just finished the tiger tattoo, which had been surprisingly easy. It took a while, but Harry didn’t shiver once and neither of them pet each other’s hair.

“Probably 40 minutes, sorry. He has a lot of tattoos and the makeup needs to set.” She says seriously and gets back to work, barely regarding the response of “Yeah it’s fine, just wanted an estimate”.

“Jesus,” Harry moans as she covers up his knee tattoos.

She groans in veiled disgust, “Did I just hit a secret erogenous zone? Is that why you have ‘oui’ there, you creep?” There’s a teasing tone behind the nickname she uses.

Harry laughs and runs his hand over his face, pulling at his jaw and lower lip. His jaw is so sharp, she watches him adjust it. “No, no. I’m just so goddamn tired of this.”

“And it’s not your fault,” he adds, feeling bad immediately after he said it. “It’s actually been nice today, but I’m feeling antsy, like I need to move. I don’t like to sit still.”

“I know,” she says under her breath. She simply nods in agreement.

Finally, the tattoos are all covered up and set. They had talked about George Michael when she got to his ankle tattoos that she hadn’t seen before and they laugh about the tattoos and chat a bit more. She helps him slip on his robe that he keeps in his closet in the trailer and then follows him out of it. They had decided they were hungry and he had been pushed back an hour since he had taken so long, so he had a free half-hour.

As they walked to craft services, they talked about actual things besides work. She was pleasantly surprised by what Harry talked about. It was more than music or the movie. It was the tv show he was currently obsessed with and how he hated LA’s traffic the most out of all of his dislikes for the city. She couldn’t help but grin at his Los Angeles slander. She loved this side of him.

-

Breakfast together after finishing his tattoo coverage became their regular thing. He would come into the trailer, racing from his morning meeting accompanied with tea for two, they’d get his tattoos covered as quickly as possible, and then they’d eat together.

They’d save their “in-depth” chats for breakfast. In early November, he joked about No Nut November and insisted he really wouldn’t have a problem with it - which had made her laugh. They worried together over the U.S. presidential election and meditated together in his trailer to Fleetwood Mac.

Around late November, Harry had requested that Y/N just do his face makeup as well, just to simplify his life a little more and the department had agreed easily. She had to spend extra time on set getting lectured on how to properly do Harry’s makeup, but after two days she stopped getting notes about it. She was so extremely proud and thankful to Harry for doing that.

All he said was: “I mean, you’re extremely talented so I’m not scared of you fucking up my face. Plus, it does make my life easier. Two birds with one stone.”

In late November, he told her about his favorite holiday drinks at Starbucks and what he was getting his mother for Christmas.

When the Vogue cover came out, he laughed over that woman who responded to his cover saying the world needed to bring back manly men. He joked that he was going to really push that from now on, that he was a manly man, and he would sputter with laughter every time he tried to say it with a straight face.

He hand delivered her a special ‘Treat People With Kindness’ sweatshirt that he only had for the cast and crew of the film. Most everyone got them from a PA, but Harry decided since you saw him first in the morning, why not.

He told her about him winning Hitmaker of the Year from Variety when he had left the award sitting in Trailer 6 and about how weird it was to film acceptance speeches in an empty room. His smile had lit up the entire set that day and the day he did his interview on set. He was so smiley she had to bump him with her elbow because he wouldn’t stop smiling at her and it was unnerving.

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

“That!” She squeaked, her head shaking as she ducked it to regard his anchor tattoo. “You’re smiling too much.”

“Oh no,” he says sarcastically, “God forbid I be happy.”

“It’s not that,” she bumps his thigh with her elbow, trying to keep her own smile off her face, “Your face is just so intense when you smile. Feels like you’re gonna burn a hole through me.”

He laughs, completely unconvinced, “You just don’t want me to be happy is what I’m hearing.”

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

She saw he was serious about the ‘manly men’ references when the Variety photos came out and everyone and their mom posted the pictures with some variation of that comment as their caption.

She still found that she rolled her eyes at some of the things Harry did, but she genuinely counted him as a friend by the time December had rolled around.

Over three hours, almost always completely alone, doing work for a job you both care deeply about can really make or break a relationship. And that first full-body coverage day had made them stronger together. After that, Harry and her would banter with one another, but there was never anything intentionally cruel. Just friends giving each other shit sometimes. Harry had been right, he had changed her mind about him. And she had realized that that was who Harry was. He was a deliverer. If you didn’t like him at first, he would try and try again until you did, but he did it in a way that wasn’t weasley or anything. It was terribly genuine and she saw it in every relationship he had on set.

On several occasions she had witnessed his friendship with Nick Kroll. A man she had regarded with dislike before the film. She had quickly realized that dislike was misplaced, but she maintained that it was just because she hated adult cartoons - citing that she literally refused to be friends with any person who willingly watched the Simpsons, Family Guy, and/or American Dad and all of those similar shows.

Nick was far nicer and less weird than she had realized. So she quickly shot her friend from high school an apology text for all the Nick Kroll slander she had spouted back in the day. Her friend had rejoiced but also said how jealous she was that Y/N got to see him regularly on set.

Nick and Harry got along great. Harry generally got along better with older people, she noticed when she was introduced to his friends on the somewhat frequent occasion. Trailer 6 was where Y/N saw most of these reactions take place. She would be introduced in the first minute and then she would smile politely and get back to the work of covering up Harry’s numerous tattoos.

Harry would say something simple and Nick, the literal famous comedian, would laugh. In the beginning she’d raise a brow, confused because it truly wasn’t that funny, but as Harry’s friend now, she kept her mouth shut.

Nick would come and sit on the couch while she’d work and eventually all three of them would chat. Sometimes she would get up to go to the bathroom during those morning chats and she would look in the mirror and think to herself “How are you casually talking to these two men right now” and then she’d think “Because you are a boss ass bitch, you got this” and go back out there with a smile on her face.

“Y/N, what are you doing tonight?” Nick asked on the first Friday morning of December.

She looks up from Harry’s cross tattoo that was half covered. Harry was reading, a book casually propped in his right hand and glasses resting on the bridge of his nose. He glanced at the other two in the room. Nick had been getting some work done before he had spoken.

“No plans,” she states simply before getting back to work. It wasn’t full body today, but it was arms and torso, so kind of a lot still.

“You should come over for dinner at my place with Harry,” Nick smiles kindly. His scruff was really coming in today. “To celebrate us almost wrapping the first half of the movie.”

Harry had thankfully freshly shaved before he sat down. It was her least favorite part of her new job. Whenever he came in for touch ups and she had to shave his afternoon shadow. She was terrified she’d cut him and never live it down from her department or Harry. She had no idea which would be worse.

“My wife will be there too, of course,” he adds, hoping to entice her to say yes.

Harry glances between Y/N and Nick again before focusing on his book again.

She purses her lips, finishing Harry’s hand and moving onto the anchor tattoo. “Yeah, I mean, I don’t know why I’d say no. As long as I’m not intruding on the throuple,” she grins up at Harry.

He stares at her with his big green eyes, slightly obscured behind his prescription glasses. He raises his brows and wiggles them a little bit, teasingly.

Nick laughs and slyly winks at Harry through the mirror. Y/N none the wiser as she removes all traces of Harry’s tattoos.

“Great!” He claps his hands and stands up. “We’ll talk or I’ll make sure Harry gets you the info or something. I don’t know, but we’ll figure it out. My wife’s been wanting to meet you,” he smiles again and walks out of the trailer.

She tilts her head at the last part. He talked about her to his wife. Did he really count her as that close of a friend? She was just a makeup artist and he was a producer… She glances at Harry and he gives away nothing. His jaw looks extra prominent and she knows it’s because he’s clenching it. He did that when he was focused or angry, remembering it bulging on the first day they met and how clenched it had been then.

“Unclench your jaw,” she mutters, “It’s not good for you.”

Harry hums and unclenches it.

He stretches his neck by rolling his head around his shoulders and she glances at the movement. His skin is still beautifully sun-kissed and his pores look so soft, only his moles change the texture of his skin. She loves his moles though, they make him especially unique in her eyes. Not that he needed anything else to set him apart from the crowd. Still, she loved them. His collarbone is prominent as he sits there shirtless and she wishes she could reach out and brush at it. But she gets back to work, knowing the only time she’s gonna be brushing near that part of him is when she’s covering dates in those dips behind his collarbones.

“Y’know, I could just drive you to Nick’s tonight,” Harry says, putting his book down and taking off his glasses. He rubs at his eye with his free hand.

“You’re blind and British, how do I know you can even drive yourself?” She asks sillily, pointing to his glasses.

He shakes his head, “I’m serious, Y/N. Aren’t you staying in the same area as me?”

He asks because they had relocated to Palm Springs a little while ago and everyone had gotten rentals and it was hard to remember where everyone was holed up when they weren’t on set.

“Yeah, think so. But you don’t need to pick me up. I have a car.”

“Nonsense. I’ve been to his place before, don’t want you to have to deal with directions, that’s just silly.”

“I guess...” she resigns relatively easily. She had never hung out with Harry off the set or Nick for that matter. It felt surreal, but she knew the right answer was usually just say yes in these situations. So that’s what she says. “Yes, that’d be great, thank you,” she confirms and watches as Harry’s eyes glimmer softly before turning back to his book. A triumphant soft smirk rests on his face.

The words die out between the two of them as she works on. He hums along to the music and continues reading his book. When she’s done with his tattoo coverage and his face makeup, she sends him off to hair and the rest of his day. He gives a flirty wink as he walks out the door and she rolls her eyes in response. She tidies up her kit and then goes to do some other makeup work.

When she wasn’t working with Harry, she was assigned to some of the minor characters and doing their makeup. They were always her second concern, especially now that she did Harry’s makeup as well as his tattoos. As she works on them, she can feel her mind drifting to Harry. Harry and how they were friends now. She was pretty sure, right? They were friends. He had never really said a mean thing to her if she really thought about it. It was her… She had been rude and mean-spirited and he had just taken it. He rarely had even thrown it back at her. He was so good to her and patient and she realized that he had proven to her that he was good. He was better than good, he was kind and loving. Considerate. Wonderful. All of those positive superlatives, Harry filled them. And she had the audacity to be mean to him.

She paused the brush that was adding blush to an actresses cheek.

Lisa, the actress, looks at Y/N confusedly, “What’s wrong?”

Y/N twitches her head, refocusing on her task at hand. The realization of her pausing her work becomes clear as she looks between her hand and the cheek that has not enough blush on it. “Oh,” she breathes. “...I just realized that I was terrible to someone who doesn’t have a mean bone in their body.”

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

“Yeah, I mean...We’ve kind of moved past the phase where we don’t get along. Like now we’re friends, but the realization just really hit me.” She sighs, picking up where she left off on Lisa’s makeup. “I’ll make sure to apologize next time I see them.”

Lisa smiles.

-

At the end of the day, Y/N realizes she left her tattoo coverage kit in Harry’s room after their touch-up session halfway through the day. She had run off to help with a makeup emergency for a tiny cut on a minor character’s face and forgotten to go back and grab her things. Another roll of her eyes and a huff of breath and then she’s walking back to Trailer 6, a place that seemed like a home away from home now. She knocks, patiently waiting at the bottom of the steps.

Harry swings open the door and props it with his hip. He’s got a toothbrush held in his mouth, slowly scrubbing back and forth with his left hand. His costume is somewhat taken off, he’s still got the pants on with suspenders hanging down, his chest was completely bare and he looked funny with some of his tattoos only being half covered based on what parts of his skin had been showing today. Her work. His skin looked half silky smooth and half tattooed like usual.

His naked skin seemingly left her breathless because as her eyes returned to Harry’s face, she breathed a soft, “Hi.”

“Hey,” a smirk twists onto his face. “Forget something?”

“Yes,” she nods, coming back to her senses and entering the trailer at Harry’s gesture.

She begins to pack up the kit that had been left haphazardly strewn around on his counter. “I’m sorry I left a mess like this, I got called over to something else and forgot.”

“Don’t worry darling,” Harry grins at his joke.

She looks up from her work and sees Harry in the reflection of the mirror. He’s wiping off the makeup from his chest and his beautiful tattoos reemerge as entire images.

She laughs humorlessly, “It gets less funny each time you use that.”

“That’s not true,” he looks at her through the mirror now, his green eyes trained on her face, “Everyone else still thinks it’s hilarious.”

“They’re humoring you and your fragile ego,” she winks and watches as Harry’s smirk twitches from his perfect face.

“You’ve got a very mean disposition, you know that?” He asks.

He finishes his chest and moves to remove the makeup from his left arm, glancing at the mirror every so often to check himself and to flicker his eyes over Y/N’s face.

She genuinely laughs at that, but scolds herself internally for being mean when she had planned to apologize the next time she saw Harry. This was the next time so why was she doing this instead?

“Rewrite sweet disposition for me?” Her voice honeyed. Clearly stubborn and terrible at saying sorry...maybe her and Harry were a better match than she realized.

Harry twists his lips as he slips on his t-shirt he was wearing today.

“Pick you up at 6:30?” He says as his head pops out from beneath the rainbow striped sweatshirt he slipped on top of the shirt. His chestnut hair had been toweled out and was flopping over his forehead slightly.

She sighs and zips close the kit, standing from the seat she had taken at his counter and turning to face him now.

“6:30 is perfect. Thanks again for doing this. I just can’t believe Nick Kroll is inviting me over for dinner!” She smiles, shifting to lean against the counter as she waits for Harry to finish up. She didn’t have to but for some reason she felt like she was in no rush.

“Are you serious?” He’s moved on to changing his pants now and he’s slipping on black sweatpants.

“Yeah…” She blinks and her eyes widen as Harry appraises her expression.

He straightens up after fixing a cuff on the pants and he can’t tell if she’s being genuine or sarcastic. It was always so hard to tell with her.

“I mean, Nick Kroll is like a huge celebrity and I know in the entertainment business you’re not supposed to get starstruck but when I was in college my sister thought he was weirdly hot and my friends and I would shit talk him. I don’t know, it’s just kind of surreal to be having dinner at his place. Like I’ve watched him on tv and now I’ll be eating with him...so weird.”

He shakes his head, beginning on his dirty vans now. A small laugh escapes his mouth and he glances between her and his shoe, scratching his head quickly. “I still can’t tell… It feels like you’re fucking with me right now.”

“I’m not!” She insists, her hands coming out in front of her in a confused fashion. “I used to watch that guy’s tv show then he’s my boss now he’s inviting me over for food? It’s a lot to process.”

“How come it’s not surreal to be having dinner with me then?” He asks semi-joking, a hint of offense tinged within it. It’s visible only in his knitted brow and twisted lip.

“Careful there, sailor. Venturing into some dangerously self-absorbed waters.” Her eyes light up, a quick raise of her brows accompany the shine, and she decides now is her time to head out. Especially as she thinks about getting ready for this soiree tonight. She needed to shower and pick out an outfit with less than two hours to prepare.

Harry sputters at her response and fumbles with his pink shoelace. “That’s not...that is - You’re being unfair. My question is valid.”

She shrugs her shoulders and skirts Harry’s attempt at grabbing at her arm to stop her from leaving. “Okay, Mr. Big Man On Campus. I promise you you’re the most popular boy in school.”

She blows him a kiss and walks out the door as he attempts to get her to come back by calling her name a few times and slightly shouting “C’mon! I wasn’t being insecure. That was a reasonable ask…”

He sighs and shakes his head again. Every interaction would end with one of them either rolling their eyes or shaking their head and usually a sigh on both of their lips. It was exhausting, but exhilarating too.

20 minutes later, Harry receives a text from Y/N: “You’re still picking me up right :))) ?”

He’s in his car, getting ready to finally leave after getting held up with last minute schedule changes that he had to be informed about by some PA that he had forgotten the name of. His lip quirks to the right and he closes his eyes for a second enjoying seeing her name on his phone screen for a moment.

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

“Fab.” She sends back, immediately followed by: “Fanks BMOC ;)”

A full smile rolls onto Harry’s face after he swipes his tongue over his lower lip. “Yeah, yeah, save it for the next guy” he types out quickly before throwing his phone gently beside him and driving back to his apartment. She made him feel young, not that he wasn’t young, but generally his friends didn’t text like she did.

-

At 6:28, she receives a text from Harry Styles - his name in her phone. A name she had never expected to see in her phone unless her Spotify was on shuffle. Yet, instead, his name popped up under messages and it read “Here!” followed by a quick “I think” and then a phone call coming through from the apparently anxious man himself.

“Hello Harry.” Her tone even. She throws little items into her purse, making sure everything she needs is there.

“Could you peek out your window? I’m not quite sure I’m at the right place and people are staring…” nerves laced in his rushed tone.

She ambles to the window and opens up the shade she had closed to change. Below her, she sees a sleek black Range Rover with a slightly disarrayed hairdo and big dark glasses peeking below the windshield. She ignored the instinct to retch at the sight of the Range Rover and peered at the lamp lit sight below her. It was definitely Harry, but she searched for the prying eyes he was worried about and saw none. Well, maybe a few, but it wasn’t a lot.

“I see you, I’ll be right out, dude. Just deep breaths, it’s mostly crew staying here right now so they’re just seeing that it’s you, another guy they work with. They won’t come up for pictures...I would hope.”

She hangs up with no farewell, snatches her purse from its place on the bed and races out the door. Harry smiles anxiously at her when she stands next to the passenger’s door and he unlocks it. She bites her lip and raises her brows, waiting to hear if anything terrible happened in the minute and a half it took her to come downstairs and out to the car.

“Hi,” he exhales.

A smirk crawls onto her features and her eyes sparkle with a bit of a childish glee that normally she didn’t exhibit as she glances at him. “Hi.” She says quietly. “Alright big boy?”

“‘M fine.” He huffs but balks at her smile that she maintains while she stares at him. “What?”

“Just happy to see you, I guess,” her smile returns after speaking and Harry glances between her face and the windshield in front of him.

He can’t tell if she’s being serious or not once again. But he fears that conversation of her either ridiculing him for thinking she is serious or being offended that he still can’t tell. Instead, he will keep his mouth shut. For the most part.

“Happy to see you, too,” his lips create a closed mouth smile quickly before turning out of the parking lot.

She watches him. Their first time together outside of work. And they were friends. She needed to get used to simply thinking that. He picked her up to take her to dinner with her other friend and his wife. This was normal life, just with big names behind those terms of relation. Jesus, she always said it didn’t bother her to be around celebrities so why did she think about it so damn much?

She twitches her head and refocuses on Harry and his driving. His jaw is clenched again and she wants to reach out and sooth it herself. Instead she starts to open her mouth to correct him, but stops herself from that as well. They weren’t at work and it didn’t feel like something just a friend would say right now. She refocuses on the view of his eyes that are barely visible while he regards the road. His large eyes that she had grown acquainted to are surveying what he’s doing, every so often drifting to the right side of the road to check out the lane beside him. But then, always back to right in front of him, leaving a crescent of green visible to her.

“Can feel you staring at me…” His voice sounds like it’s rolled around in gravel after the long work day. It makes her wonder if he’s supposed to have a vocal rest when he’s not at work, but then again it’s the weekend now so maybe it was fine. Maybe she should ask him. Or maybe she should stop worrying so much about him.

“Have I got something on my face?” His low register bumps her from her racing thoughts. He doesn’t take his eyes off the road, but she can see he’s widened his eyes in wonder.

“No! Of course not, I just was...making sure you weren’t going to crash us or something.” She grasps at straws, desperate to not be caught by Harry.

A low chuckle bubbles from his chest and he spares a small glance over at her bundled up in his passenger seat. She matches his gaze with something of distrust hidden behind her eyes. She hopes to convey that she’s being silly and when Harry turns back to look at the road unassumingly, she feels like she has won. The harmonies of the beginning of a Queen song take over the silence, Harry’s spindly fingers thrumming against the wheel.

They arrive at the Kroll’s Palm Springs residence at 6:50. 10 minutes early and the two twiddle their thumbs for a few minutes, trying to pass the time and not intrude earlier than they were supposed to. She appreciated that Harry liked to be timely but not early, similar to how she was.

“So what is the fascination with Range Rovers?” She queries, leaning against the door’s armrest. The back of her head touches against the semi-tinted window.

Harry shifts in his seat, seat belt no longer constricting him and no road requiring his attention as they sit in the driveway. He rushes a hand through his hair and lets a single strand of hair fall over his prominent forehead.

“Dunno,” he shrugs his shoulders and allows a hand to fall onto the steering wheel absentmindedly. “I don’t really prefer them anymore, but when I’m in LA and doing work, it makes things easier. My other cars are a little flashier...have more privacy in this.”

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

Her head tilts to take in Harry’s appearance, sharp black silky button-up and dark green plaid slacks, and she rubs a hand over her jaw. His eyes flicker to the movement and attempt to really take it in, even in the dim glow of the lamp light outside barely peeking into the dark interior of the car.

“Effect?”

“Y’know…” She arches her brow at him. He feigns innocence or possibly the expression is genuine. She’s begun to realize Harry was as genuine as they came, but she just didn’t think he was that unaware. An assumption that was likely correct, but even Harry liked to pretend he was a completely unassuming individual.

“Forget it,” she finishes when he gives no indication that he knows what she is hinting at. She doesn’t want to get into it with him again. Especially when he plays at this game where he has no idea what she’s talking about. It made her feel like she was crazy for thinking he made these calculated decisions to get his desired outcomes.

They move on, neither of them quite sure what the other was getting at in that conversation. The two of them walk into the house a minute before their expected arrival time side by side and are greeted happily with Nick and his wife. They’re ushered in and Y/N is happily received by the happy couple.  

“So, Y/N, how’s it been for you working with these two? I know they can be more than a handful - especially together,” Nick’s wife, Lily, asks after a sip of wine.

The group of four had been eating for a while with Nick and Harry bantering for quite a bit at the beginning about whether or not Harry would be willing to hand feed Nick. The answer was settled at “another time”.  

Harry seems to have a very specific habit of watching whoever is speaking - no matter what. So after Lily has finished speaking, his gaze flickers to Y/N, the person his brain expects to speak next. He watches her attentively as she wipes her mouth on her napkin before speaking.

Her hair was styled differently tonight than it usually was on set, she had it down rather than up in a ponytail or braids. He hadn’t had time to really look at her when they had been in the car, his mind occupied with stress and exhaustion that he refocused into driving and deep breathing. Now, in the comfort of a trusted friend’s home, he was far more relaxed and able to truly take in her appearance, which he couldn’t help but think was beautiful. He’d have to tell her that at some point. That he thought she was beautiful. Not that he didn’t see her on set and think she was beautiful...he just hadn’t really thought about it before. She was his wily makeup artist who was critical of him most times, but occasionally sweet, who had an amazing taste in music and good aesthetic style. The beauty part of it all, he guessed wasn’t something integral to their relationship before.

But now he was sitting beside her at the Kroll’s nice dining table and she had her hair splayed in front and behind her shoulders with one side tucked behind her ear and her outfit fit her impeccably. The top she had on had capped sleeves that cinched with buttons at her delicate wrists and a severe drop to create a small sweetheart neckline just above the curve of her breasts. It was silky and shiny, a blush pink that complemented the high waisted dark grey slacks that flared over shiny black boots that he wasn’t sure where they ended beneath the pants.

“Well,” she starts, chuckling under her breath when she meets Harry’s stare, “Harry and I spend a lot of time together, covering up all his tattoos, and he yaps a lot. So, it’s actually pretty refreshing when Nick comes in, because Harry’s then talking half the normal amount.”

He huffs a scoff, while Lily and Nick laugh happily. Nick interjects an “ouch” for the bite she just took out of Harry, but she thought it was fine, he can take it.

Harry thought to himself that if she can serve it, then she can definitely take it. His eyes remain on her as he opens his mouth to speak, but then look at Lily when words actually come out. “Well, Y/N, she thinks she can read people really well, but it’s actually quite the opposite. She had me completely wrong when we first met, so I talk now in hopes that she’ll really understand me.”

His head tilts to her when he mentions her name, but otherwise doesn’t glance her way away again. He scrunches his nose at the end of his comment, implying he converses with her out of pity.

It’s her turn to scoff and stare at him unamused. Nick and Lily share a look, unsure of what was going on, they had concocted this dinner date idea in hopes to set the two up but the way this conversation was going, they seemed to be pushing each other further and further away from one another.

“That’s simply not true,” she says curtly and takes a sip of her quickly emptying wine glass.

“Which part?”

“Almost all of it, I’d say,” her eyes glaring back at him, fiery with a disdain he hadn’t seen in awhile. “You’re proving my original perception of you with every passing second,” she adds.

“Care to elaborate exactly what the original perception of me was for the class,” his eyes are wide and wild, any extra adoration he had started to feel towards her slipping away just as quickly as it had come, like a wave along the beach.

“You know, so why don’t you?”

“I want to hear you say it,” he grits out the command.

She shifts in her seat, glancing at Nick and Lily who are watching on and she has a feeling she won’t be getting an invitation again anytime soon. Lily gives her a semi-reassuring smile like she was sorry to have asked the question at all, but Y/N knows this is kind of her fault, not that she would ever admit that. Her comment could have been taken innocuously, but Harry’s pride wouldn’t let it slide. Like she said, she should have known better, the weeks of friendship were flying out the window and she was helping them along.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Have fun calling an uber at this time of night,” he shrugs, malice dripping in his tone.

She truly was taken aback at this. A slight sound of shock leaving her mouth. Harry was many things, impatient and anxious usually, but downright cruel with her, she had yet to see it. Arrogant and pompous, definitely, but this wickedness that was starting to creep from the shadows worried her. But the little fiery demon within her wasn’t going anywhere either - yet she might back down to save herself some money and hassle.

“Fine,” she raises her brows in a challenge to him and restates her original take on him - possibly adding a bit extra malice in her phrasing, “You are a shell of a man, held up by the people around you, creating the illusion of a completely genuine and down to earth rocker who dabbles in acting, philanthropy and all around goodness. No one’s ever had a bad experience because no one’s ever truly met you. Not the real you.” She takes a deep breath as she shakes her head in disbelief now, a sarcastic laugh leaving her mouth, “And I thought, I really thought, that I had been wrong. Because these past months you really fooled me with your sweet smile and deep eyes. But when it comes down to it, you tricked me just like everyone else.”

Harry stares at her blankly and she shakes her head once more, feeling foolish. For thinking Harry was someone he wasn’t. For thinking the past few months had been real. For thinking that tonight would go off without a hitch. And the shit part of it was that she had really hoped that all of it was true. She wanted this to be her life, but her instincts had been right. Beware of the picture perfect because it always is just a mirage of deceit and lies.

“All I’ve got to say is you’re a damn good actor Harry, so at least you’ve got that going for you.” Then she pushes back from the table and stands, turning to Nick and Lily. “I really am so sorry, I understand that you probably want me to leave, so I’ll just be going,” her voice faltering at the end, she wasn’t as strong as she liked to pretend and she was pretty sure she just ruined her chances of working again in Hollywood. You’d have to be an idiot to be an enemy of Harry Styles and she feels like she just became his first.

“No!” Nick says quickly, standing too, “I think things just escalated really quickly and some things were said that both of you didn’t mean. Um...just, let’s take a few minutes to cool off. Harry could you and Lily deal with the dishes and I’m going to talk with Y/N alone.”

Everyone nods and Y/N follows Nick down a hallway, a little confused but following after he beckons her with his hand. They go out a side door and end up on a porch in the backyard. He stoops down and opens a little sitting mailbox she didn’t see and pulls out a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. He places one between his teeth and then offers one to her. She accepts, not usually a regular smoker, but right now seemed like a fair time to indulge in the bad habit. She needed to calm her rapidly beating heart.

He lights the cigarette for her when he sees her shaking hands and then in turn lights his own. They stand on the porch beside each other and stare out into the dark night sky.

“Well, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” Nick starts, after a few exhales of smoke.

“No,” she laughs nervously, her foot toeing at the wooden slate on the porch. “I shouldn’t have tried to make a joke.”

“No one’s to blame,” Nick says quickly, glancing at her, “You and Harry...you both have really strong personalities and I don’t think either of you are used to being challenged.”

She nods along, she definitely had to agree after the argument they had both willingly gotten into in front of other people.

“I think that can be a really good thing, challenging each other, because then you two can both grow. But what happened in there was more of a battle to the death rather than a friendly spar.”

“Yeah,” she exhales, flicking at the burning cigarette between her fingers, “I don’t know why he gets under my skin sometimes in a way I’ve never dealt with and it’s kind of uncomfortable so I lash out, I guess.”

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

“Ugh,” she groans, “I wish I hadn’t done that. We were doing so well, it’s like I don’t even really know what I’m saying, it’s like I can’t handle a friendly spar, I always end up going in for the kill - as you put it.”

She rubs at her face with her free hand and then takes a drag herself. Nick bites at his lower lip, trying to think of a solution.

“Y’know? Lily and I had concocted this plan to try and set you and Harry up tonight,” he says slowly, revealing the plan that had clearly been taken off the table as they just needed to attempt to salvage cordiality.

“Really?!” She’s in complete disbelief and slight dismay that the plan was seemingly ruined.

“Well,” he sputters, “When the two of you aren’t throwing verbal fireballs at each other, you’re actually quite sweet to one another. Those fond little glances you hope no one sees, well he does that too, and you both fail miserably because I see it all the time. I’m sure plenty of people do too.”

“Oh,” she states, visibly deflating. She looks to the ashtray conveniently on a table behind her and presses out the rest of the cigarette. “Should probably talk to him, huh?”

Nick nods, stamping out his nub of a cigarette as well. They go back inside and into the kitchen where Lily and Harry have plated dessert. Harry looks a little sheepish, likely having a similar conversation with Lily and she wouldn’t be surprised if her expression looks similar, if not a bit more flushed from the outdoor chill.

Lily murmurs that she and Nick are going to eat their dessert in the living room, a fair bit away from the kitchen and the two now deflated counterparts nod and then stare at each other, knowing what they need to do.

“Can we talk?” Harry rasps out, his voice even lower as he speaks softly, a mere foot away from her in the kitchen.

She nods, but moves further from him to lean against the counter and tuck her hands behind her. She’s lost her appetite and doesn’t want Harry to see her shaking digits.

He’s ducked his head and a stray curl falls over his forehead, laying there softly. He doesn’t move to fix it, just stares at his feet until she begins to talk. He can’t not look at her face when she speaks.

“So…” She slowly starts, not enjoying the tension in the room. Her eyes can’t meet his though, his stare dark and unnerving like usual, but almost painfully so now. “I can start.” She kicks at the tiling on the floor like she had done outside as well, trying to not think about the eyes trained on her right now. “I’m sorry I lashed out on you, Harry. I didn’t mean what I said, it was just a heat of the moment response.”

“I’m sorry, too,” Harry says immediately once she finishes speaking, “I shouldn’t have gotten upset over a silly joke and brought up a sensitive subject. Then it escalated…”

“Yeah, I really liked the friendship we’ve garnered these past few months and I just can’t believe I almost ruined everything - including my career…” she squeaks at the end and tears start to roll from her eyes. “Oh god,” she is hit with the gravity of all that she almost ruined as Harry stares at her again. “I’m so sorry, Harry, I really am. Do you forgive me? I don’t think I could stand it if you didn’t.”

She stands there and feels sobs wrack through her and her hands go to cover her face out of embarrassment. She had caused a scene and now she was making another one. In front of Harry.

In an instant his arms are wrapped around her frame and he’s hushing her cries. They had never hugged before, but now seemed like as good a time as ever. His arms were strong around her and she pressed her face into his chest, not caring at all about how she looked or whether this was worse than getting in a fight and running off.

“Of course I forgive you,” he says and then begins repeating her name over and over, trying to soothe her. He definitely had been hurt by her words, but it seemed like she was more upset about the whole situation than he was and he didn’t think bringing up what specifically had hurt him would help her frame of mind.

She settles after some time, her whimpers and tears subsiding after being rocked into a more peaceful mindset with the help of Harry’s calming voice and reassuring embrace.

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

Harry pulls his neck back and his head off the top of her head to look at her face. It was tear stained and her eyes were glassy, lips slightly puffy. He gave her a soft tight-lipped smile. “No more apologies,” he states sternly and then softens again at the slight quiver in her lip. He pulls from her a little more, leaving her at arm's length, with his hands still attached to her hips, fingers slipping over the plaid fabric. “I meant to tell you this earlier, before things…” he stares at her face again and she holds it this time, “You look beautiful tonight.”

She scoffs and her eyes immediately drop to her feet, “Definitely not anymore.” She doesn’t believe Harry.

“‘M serious,” he insists. His right index finger goes to rest beneath her chin and brings her face up to look back at him.

“Sure,” she says, still not convinced but not sure how else to respond. She feels herself warming at all the positive attention he’s pouring into her.

His gaze won’t falter from her face, he’s intent upon making her understand him. He whispers her name, “Accept the compliment.”

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

“Fine, thank you,” she sighs when he won’t stop giving her that look of his. That look that makes her want to melt into the ground because it feels like she’s the only person in the world. “Though you looked especially good tonight, too,” she adds, her hands rubbing over his shoulders softly.

“Thank you,” Harry states lowly, the words only traveling to her ears. His hands fiddle with the sides of her top, thinking about the night and where they were now. Her eyes were red from crying and overall she looked tired beyond her years. “Do you want me to take you home?”

“That’d be nice.”

They make a quiet farewell to Nick and Lily, as well as apologies from both her and Harry. They don’t speak in the car and the music plays loud enough for it to not seem unreasonable for them to be silent. Harry’s hands don’t tap against the steering wheel, they sit in their spots stoically doing their job and nothing more. She watches the window, legs crossed and hands clasped in her lap. She’s thankful for the music because she knows that even though they had talked, it wasn’t enough. What she had said was hurtful and one apology wasn’t enough for how she had behaved. She didn’t think her and Harry would be the same after tonight, but the silence made it possible for her to pretend none of it had happened.

Just as Harry’s car is pulling up the apartment complex that is far darker now, the harsh splatter of rain begins to fall on the pavement and the sleek black car the two are still sat in.

“Oh,” she comments offhandedly, just responding to what she had noticed.

The rain grows louder when Harry parks and then turns off the car. He glances at her for the first time since they got into the car. She registers the look out of the corner of her eye, her face still looking out at the rain. She loved the rain, but there wasn’t always a lot in Southern California, especially not in Palm Springs. It seemed that tonight was different.

“Well,” Harry breaks his silence, she thinks that’s her cue to leave and unbuckles her seatbelt, but he continues. “This certainly wasn’t how I expected this night to go.”

She stops moving, her hand hovering over the handle of the door. She sits back and settles into the seat, feeling her teeth bite into the plush of her bottom lip.

“That’s what people keep saying,” her eyes remain on the rain hitting the front of the car, the splatters of seemingly black liquid that form when the clear rain touches the onyx hood of the car.

“Huh?” Harry grows perplexed at the rather wistful tone of her and how she won’t look at him again. He was still hurt, but he had hoped them talking in the kitchen had straightened some things out. During the car ride he hadn’t wanted to talk, but it didn’t mean he was still angry with her. Just confused, and growing further confused by the second.

“Oh,” she repeats, “Didn’t Lily say? Her and Nick concocted that dinner in hopes to set us up.”

Harry hums, knowing that because Nick had left out a little part of that plan. That he had been a part of it. He had been talking with Nick about getting to know her better outside of work and how Nick had thought it’d be a good idea to have dinner so he had told Lily and they set it up like a casual dinner party. Harry didn’t know how to respond because her knowing that he was in on the plan might just make matters worse. He really didn’t think things could get much worse, but it seemed that they always managed to make it happen so in the end he decided to keep his mouth shut.

“I don’t know if we’d ever be able to work out differences out for that,” she decides to continue, when Harry stays quiet. She scans the interior of the car and watches Harry for the briefest moment before going back to looking out the window. “Nick said that we challenge each other to grow, but all I see us do is hurt each other.”

Her voice is just above the rain pattering outside the car and Harry thinks it sounds almost melodic if it weren’t for the sadness laced in every word.

“I disagree,” he states before wetting his lips.

“Of course you do,” she laughs in spite of herself.

“Even after all these months together and you still don’t get it. I like you.”

“You don’t like me, I don’t know how you could ever like me,” she shakes her head. “We just...we get under each other’s skin. You can make me so angry sometimes and I know I make you angry too. And when we’re not angry, we’re focussed on something that doesn’t have to do with ourselves.”

“I don’t think what you feel for me is anger,” Harry insists, “Just because something feels burning and fiery, frustrating even, doesn’t mean it’s anger.”

His body shifts closer to the center divide and she turns to face him finally. His eyes are extra dark in this lighting, which is barely there from a streetlamp a ways off. She longs for the comfort of his light green eyes, the soft pale glow of the moss that seems to have been trapped within his iris. Maybe for that reason she unknowingly leans closer to him.

“Then what is it?” She whispers, eyes blinking slowly as her breathing grows strained.

“Passion.”

Immediately, her head is tilting to meet his lips. Her mind knows one thing, she needs to be kissing Harry right now. And then she is. His left hand goes to cup her cheek as his lips attach themselves to hers. His soft lips press to hers in a long searing kiss. They stay there for a moment, pressing all of that passion and frustration into the kiss.

She presses impatiently forward, her lips starting to move more, wanting to kiss him deeper. Harry obliges, parting his lips and kissing her more vigorously. He licks into her open mouth and smiles at the sound she makes in appreciation for his actions.

She’s shifted to have herself kneeling on the leather seat and she’s leaning over the console. One of her hands finds purchase on Harry’s thigh and grasps tightly, her other at the back of his neck, pressing him closer if it were possible.

His chest is pressing against hers as he pulls her closer. He kisses her and his fingertips rub softly at the apple of her cheek. Eventually they run behind the shell of her ear and trail down her neck.

Eventually, she pulls away and stares at Harry. She watches as his eyes flutter open gently. His soft eyelashes dust his cheeks before moving away, allowing his eyes to peer at her in the dark.

Her breathing feels a little irregular after the kissing and she’s sure she is heaving her chest slightly, likely mirroring Harry’s chest as well.

“So, where to now?” She inquires, lips quirked up at her suggestion.

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

Harry doesn’t stay the night, he walks her up to her apartment door though. He kisses her chastley in front of her door and wraps an arm around her waist as he does so. He bids her a goodnight and a promise of seeing her soon.

They don’t see each other for a month. Both of them had been so blissful after the endorphins of kissing their person that they had forgotten that filming had wrapped. They weren’t set to work for a month. Harry texted her the next morning informing her that he’d be in England until filming resumed. She was still going to be in California, filming was moving back to Los Angeles, so she’d be back in her place there. Her family knew she was working, so they had sent her presents ahead to her place instead. Angie, her only true friend in the area, was spending her time with her actual family and Y/N didn’t want to intrude.

So the holidays were going to be spent alone. Those four weeks alone passed surprisingly quickly. She practiced techniques on herself, bought a tiny Christmas tree like the one in A Charlie Brown Christmas, watched A Charlie Brown Christmas and just about every other holiday movie possible. She fell in love with young Hugh Grant and Colin Firth for the thousandth time. She sang carols to herself and decorated her place with decorations from Target. She jammed out to the new Miley Cyrus album and held dance parties for herself in the house. She baked cookies and even attempted a trifle after watching a Great British Bake Off episode. She did and she did all in hopes that her mind wouldn’t wander to the guy who hadn’t called.

Harry texted occasionally, but it was infrequent at best. He was a busy person, she knew that. She knew who he was. And she didn’t want her mind to have enough time to feel sorry for herself. For her to think that she was just somebody to pass the time with while at work, because if she stopped doing things that’s where her mind would wander. Why did her mind spiral like it did? She had no idea, she’d always been like that.

His absence, their separation, made her question if her own feelings were even true. She wondered if when she saw him he would act as if nothing had happened. As if he hadn’t said their relationship was passionate and she had kissed him until she couldn’t breath.

Too much time alone, she needed some fresh air. On January 2nd, after an uneventful night at home and a lackluster countdown washed down with cheap champagne, she decided to go and walk around near her place. There was a coffee shop that wasn’t extremely expensive that she also liked that she figured she would get coffee from. After a brisk walk, she walked through the store's doors and ordered an iced green tea. As she waited, she watched the other customers around her, wishing to see a friendly face, someone she knew. And seconds later, she was met with half of that wish. Someone she knew, not necessarily a friendly face.

“Autumn.” She states with a grimace when someone taps her on the shoulder and she spins around.

“Y/N? It is you!” Autumn, one of the PA’s from Don’t Worry Darling who was especially in Harry’s business, exclaims overly happy as per usual.

Y/N bites the inside of her cheek and gives a tight lipped smile, trying her best to be cordial.

“How’s your holiday been!” Autumn asks.

“Great. You?”

“So great!” She’s quick to lean closer and say in a hushed tone, “But I miss working on set, especially getting to see that Harry everyday. He’s just so gorgeous.”

A breath gets stuck in Y/N’s chest at the mention of Harry’s name. Her brows can’t help but raise a bit at Autumn’s comment. Even lowering her voice didn’t make it feel alright to talk about Harry like this. He was her friend after all.

“Sure.” Y/N nods abruptly, realizing Autumn wants some recognition of what she’s just said. Y/N’s eyes glance around the room, hoping for an out like her drink is ready or something - no such luck.

“I mean,” Autumn keeps talking, of course, “You’re so lucky. You get to see him shirtless, like what? Everyday practically? Don’t tell me you don’t miss that just a little bit!”

“I miss working,” Y/N says, avoiding what Autumn is trying to get her to say. “And Harry’s my friend, could you maybe not talk about him like that with me?”

Autumn’s eyes widened in shock, her lips parted dumbfounded by her co-worker's response. Y/N’s name is called for her drink and she’s thankful for the serendipitous nature of that sound getting her out of the awkward situation she had just been in.

When she gets back to her apartment, she surprisingly has a text from Harry himself. She’s always telling everyone; speak of the devil and he will appear, in one way or another. It’s a Happy New Year well wish followed by a separate text asking how she was.

It was sent a minute ago so she decides to try and give him a call. She preferred talking on the phone over texting.

It rings a few times and then, again surprisingly, he picks up.  

“‘Lo?” His voice is nice and deep and sounding extra British after his weeks surrounded by family and such.

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

“Happy to hear your voice,” he says her name and she can tell he’s smiling just like she is, from ear to ear.

She bites at her lip, hearing him say her name.

“I’m well, thanks,” she says after a moment of happy silence.

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

“You texted asking me how I was and I called to respond.”

“Got it,” Harry chuckles, and she hears him shuffling around, likely sitting down on something.

“How are you?” She continues.

“Good, starting to wind down for the day,” he lists off the things he’s been doing over the past few days. Some of it work related, some of it family activities. All of it fun, he insists. “What did you do today?” He finishes, knowing she was an avid activity doer based off of the snaps she had sent him over the past few weeks.

“Tidied my place, went to the coffee shop and got iced tea…” she tries to think and then she gasps, “Oh! And I saw Autumn, one of the Don’t Worry Darling PA’s -”

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

“Exactly!” She laughs, “And I may have kind of told her off… accidentally.”

“Accidentally told her off?” Harry repeats, incredulous. “How’d you do that?”

“Well,” she doesn’t want to tell him the rest, but there’s also a tiny part of her that really does, “She was gushing about you, which, ew. And then she asked if I missed seeing you shirtless everyday.”

“Well do you miss seeing me shirtless?” Harry smirks.

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

“If I really wanted to see you shirtless, all I’d have to do is type in “Harry Styles sh” and it would come up,” she rolls her eyes even though she knows he can’t see them. “Wouldn’t even need the whole word. Guaranteed.”

“Uh-huh?” Harry questions still, “If you want me to send you shirtless pictures that the rest of the world hasn’t seen, Y/N, all you have to do is ask.”

“I do not want you to send me shirtless pictures of yourself!” She exclaims. She feels like jumping out of a window right now. This conversation had escalated so quickly and she felt herself flushing, maybe even perspiring a little bit. And she also knew that she also would probably like it if he sent her shirtless pictures, which made this whole thing worse.

“Offer stands,” he says, smug as he normally was, happy he got to banter with her again. It had been dull without her, if he was honest with himself. “If you ever find yourself in need, just send a cheeky text and I’ll whip one out for you, no matter where I am or what I’m doing.”

“See this sounds like you’re saying something sincere, but really you’re just telling me you’ll send me nudes at any time.”

“No one said anything about nudes!”

“Shirtless, nude, sounds like you’re getting too caught up in the details, hon.”

“No!” He protests, “You’re the one who’s supposed to be flustered right now, not me!”

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

Harry groans. “Whatever. I’ll be back on the 8th, be ready to go out on the 9th. I’m taking you on a proper date.”

“How do you know I’m going to say yes?” She bite her lip again, she’s really sweating now. She couldn’t believe he had just asked her out on a date out of nowhere. Out of them just joking about nudes. Maybe she didn’t know Harry as well as she thought.

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

“But I don’t offer shirtless pictures to everyone.”

“That has nothing to do with me saying yes to this date.”

“Or does it?”

She laughs at his words, at how his voice still manages to convey every facial expression and quirk of his lips. She knows there’s a smile on his lips as he stares in the distance, imagining her face just as she is his.

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

She hears him stand up and spin around possibly and she chuckles slightly, amused at the silly man across the world who had seemed to have stolen her heart.

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

On the Saturday of their date, Harry insists on picking her up. He meets her at her door and winks at her after pulling away from their short hug. He laces his hand in hers and she follows behind him as he all but drags her to his car that is downstairs. He seems giddy. His hair has grown out in the month he’s been gone and she knows they’ll cut it when filming resumes. He’s wearing Gucci flared blue jeans - she knows from the big logo on the bottom left pant leg - a ‘Waiting for Sunset’ graphic tee beneath a black cardigan with little animals and items knitted in it. And of course, his dirty ass vans. She had hoped that maybe Christmas would bring him a fresh pair from someone, but it seemed there was no such luck.

Either way, he looked good and upon scanning his outfit, she was pleased that she had dressed correctly for the occasion, knowing one of the sins of Los Angeles was being improperly dressed wherever you might go. Harry had said casual, but casual can always mean so many different things. She got it right with light wash high-waisted levi’s, a brown cream rib-knit long sleeve that buttoned like it could be a cardigan, and some fun chunky boots that added some height to her normal stature. She had contemplated between this and possibly twenty other tops and a few other bottoms. Landing on this felt right, plus it didn’t clash with Harry, the color of her shoes actually matched the color of the snake on the cardigan.

They both compliment each other on the way out to his car and she giggles when he stops and twirls her around. He says he didn’t get a “proper look” before for him to compliment her adequately. After the twirl, he nods and starts them off again, complimenting the specific pieces of her clothes and says she looks beautiful again. His giddiness was contagious.

“No Range tonight,” she muses when Harry stops them in front of a Mercedes-Benz cream convertible, top up.

“Not working,” he replies, unlocking the car with the key into the passenger’s side door handle.

She smiles and slides into the car and watches him jog around to his side and unlock it as well.

“Tonight is going to be fantastic,” he says, leaning over the console and kissing her cheek, just beside her lips.

And when he pulls away with that smug smile of his, she knows he kissed her there on purpose. But the little tease only makes her smile more. He was good at this. And he was right.

The night was fantastic. As was every night after. And she learned that Harry was so much more than anything she ever thought. She counted herself lucky to be loved by a man like him.

[ziorite]

Guys, after weeks two days of waiting for kit and Ty content, here it is. At long last. But first we have Julian rambling about the countryside, and tbh? I’m not even mad about it, I love him and I love hearing his thoughts and I would never be upset to hear more about what Julian think.

PLEASE WHY IS CIRENWORTH FUCKING MASSIVE IMAGINE GOING TO THE BATHROOM IN THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT

mina !!! And kit !!!! They Are Siblings !!!!!

kit is no longer small he is Tall. isnt Julian like over six feet tall like why are all the tsc dudes fucking beanpoles I want a short king where’s Andrew Minyard when you need him

He thinks he is an inconvenience and I will not stand for that. Julian may not be rational whatsoever when it comes to his family but guess what kit ??? You are now part of that Family so he will not be taking sides and i love that about him.

why can’t kit and Ty just get to be happy I love them and I want them to not have to suffer :((( them thinking their closest friend hates them is making me sniffle a little ngl i just want to give hugs

guys. guys we got a sentence about James this is singlehandedly going to ruin my day I want to know about James and His Super Fucking Epic 1800s Demon Killing Pew Pew Shooter cc why would you do this to us

[hxseok-honee]

atlas heart || part 49

a/n : "the incantation comes from latin 'protego', 'i protect', and 'diabolica', a declension of 'diabolicus', meaning 'diabolic, relating to the devil'. it is unclear if the translation is meant to suggest 'protection from the devil' or 'the devil protects.'..."

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_______________________________

“Jungkook, will you stop eating all the cookies please--”

“How come Jin gets to eat everything in sight, but I can’t--”

“Because Jin is an insatiable mountain troll with no human manners and six stomachs--”

“Aw, Yoongi, you’re so loving with your words!”

“Shut up, Jin.”

“Kim Seokjin, stop eating the fucking food!” Jimin watches with thinly veiled exasperation as chaos unfolds in Yoongi and Hoseok’s countryside cottage. They’d arrived a few days prior, spending the week together before dispersing for Christmas Day, just in time for the full moon. It had been a chaotic week at best -- verbal altercations were had over stupid things like gift-wrapping techniques, and several small fires had already occurred in the kitchen, mostly due to Taehyung’s ice cream maker.

But somehow, they’d made it to Christmas Eve. And, so far, this Christmas Eve had been spent watching Jin eat all the food as it’s being made and consequently be kicked out of the kitchen entirely by Hoseok. Jimin’s seated in the living room with a perfect view of the chaos happening at the dining table. Y/n’s next to him, reading quietly with her head on Jimin’s shoulder. She’s especially tired today, the full moon just over 24 hours away, so Jimin’s staying close to her.

Namjoon and Taehyung are seated in front of the fireplace, engaged in an intense game of wizard’s chess. Namjoon is beating Taehyung by a landslide, but Taehyung just will not give up, something that makes Jimin smile fondly.

There’s a bang from the kitchen, catching everyone’s attention. Hoseok turns slowly from where he stands at the oven, smiling sheepishly at them.

“I may have put the pie in for too long.” The room is a collection of groans and exasperated laughter, Jin’s complaints overpowering the rest.

“How the fuck do you make a pie explode?! It’s a pie!” Hoseok looks to Yoongi for help, but the boy only shrugs.

“The man’s right, babe -- pie’s not that hard.” Hoseok lets out an affronted scoff, moving to open the window over the sink to let some of the smoke from the oven out. Jimin feels Y/n snicker softly beside him, and when he looks down at her, she’s peering over the top of her book at the scene in the kitchen. She looks so peaceful and happy, even with eyes full of exhaustion. He adores her entirely, and he knows it’s obvious to everyone but her.

Her eyes flick up to meet his then, and, over the cries of outrage from the kitchen about not having dessert, he hears her whisper to him.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” Jimin purses his lips, smothering the smile that’s rising to the surface. He only shakes his head, his expression judgmental.

“Not everything’s about you, Y/n, geez.” He laughs when she gives him a hard nudge with her elbow, and he moves to wrap his arms around her and trap her in his hold. She lets it happen, only grumbling noncommittally about being unable to read like this. He presses his lips to her temple stubbornly in response. “You have a lifetime to read -- let me hug you.”

“Alright, it looks like we’re having deconstructed pie for dessert, so everyone come eat!” Apparently, the argument about the oven disaster has ended, as Hoseok’s setting a pie on the table, a giant hole in the middle where it had imploded. Taehyung jumps up from his tragedy of a chess game and runs for the kitchen, socked feet sliding to a stop in front of the refrigerator. Plucking a big bowl of homemade ice cream -- its flavor to be determined -- from inside, he makes his way to the table and spoons a giant scoop into the pie’s battle wound. He gestures dramatically at it when he’s done.

“Problem solved!” Hoseok mimics him, gesturing just as dramatically at his disappointed boyfriend.

“The man’s right, babe -- problem solved!” The group laughs, everyone slowly making their way to the table to eat. Y/n sets her book on the couch, moving to stand, but Jimin stops her. From within his pocket he pulls a vial and shakes it, eyeing her knowingly when she groans.

“Ten seconds of pain, and then you can drown the taste out with some ambiguously flavored ice cream. If it makes tomorrow night more bearable for you, then ten seconds is nothing.” She smiles, taking the vial and uncorking it.

“Did you just admit to being someone who eats dessert before dinner?” She downs the potion in one go, eyes squeezed shut. She doesn’t see Jimin gazing at her lovingly, only to lower his eyes when she’s done. She hands him the vial and takes his hand, pulling him to his feet and toward the table.

“You promised me only ten seconds of pain before ice cream, so move faster, Park Jimin.” They take their seats in the chairs nearest them, Jungkook setting his plate down on Y/n’s other side and moving to join them. Tae, Yoongi, and Hoseok sit across from them, Jin and Namjoon taking the end seats. Namjoon leaves his seat after a moment, moving to pass out silverware and swap the ladle in Jin’s hand for a normal spoon. Jin refuses to give up his spoon of choice, glaring at the boy standing over him.

“Dude, I will fight you on Christmas Eve -- I have no qualms about fucking up the holiday spirit or whatever--”

“Stop.” It comes from Jungkook, spoken with a quiet urgency that halts all activity in the room. He’s standing just behind the seat he’d been about to take, his hand resting on the back of the chair. He ignores their questioning glances, his eyes locked on nothing in particular as he focuses his hearing on the open window. When he finds what he’s looking for, he meets Yoongi’s eyes, alarmed.

“I thought you said you put a barrier around your house.” Yoongi and Hoseok glance at one another, shaking their heads simultaneously as Yoongi looks back to the Gryffindor.

“We never got around to it…” But Jungkook’s stopped listening. And, for all the years of jokes, remarks, and complaints Jung Hoseok had ever made about the boy’s heightened senses, he can say with complete confidence later that Jeon Jungkook is the only reason he’s still alive. Because the only person in the room that’s ready for the unforgivable curse that’s shot though the open window, aimed squarely at Hoseok’s chest, is the boy who’d heard the call for death fall from its caster’s lips.

Suddenly, Jungkook’s across the room, launching his body at Hoseok’s over the dinner table and twisting in mid-air to throw his hand out toward the window. He’d never in his life attempted nonverbal magic -- not necessarily the most advanced of students -- but it’s said that wizards can create even miracles if they’re desperate enough. And this is nothing like the World Cup, when Hoseok had protected him from a nasty stunning curse -- the beam of light headed Jungkook’s way right now, in this moment of literal life and death, has been shot to kill. So desperation is exactly what produces the shield charm that emits from his entire body, exploding outwards and shattering all the windows in the house as it goes. The force of it blows them all back, throwing them to the floor and against walls with cries of shock.

And, while a shield is normally null against a curse so powerful, it seems Jungkook’s done more than just perform nonverbal magic for the first time. He’s produced a physical barrier -- an invisible pane of pure energy separating his enemies from his family. It takes out half of the kitchen as it goes, destroying the far wall completely and opening the house out to the cold night around them.

In the confusion of chaos and rubble, Y/n lifts her head from the kitchen floor, catching a glimpse of the group of people outside the house, all equally disarmed from the display of sheer strength they’d just witnessed. She counts 6 bodies, all donned in dark robes, and she knows immediately that this is a Death Eater attack.

Groaning, she drags herself to her feet, grabbing anyone she can get her hands on and pulling them with her, staying low to the ground. Jimin’s the first to follow, holding onto Y/n for dear life, but he can’t help the way he hesitates when he looks past the overturned dining table, the wood splintered and cracked amidst all the wasted food.

Because there in front of him, right where the initial wave of power had surged out from and disoriented them all, is something that is very much not human. When it rises to its feet, it stands to full height, and Jimin knows that it’s easily as tall as he is. Black fur as far as the eye can see, the end of its ears and tail painted grey -- its body practically ripples with strength as it moves, and it’s from behind a set of sharpened teeth and a massive jaw, so powerful it could probably break Jimin clean in half, that a low growl starts to rumble.

It becomes a terrifying snarl in a matter of seconds, those piercing teeth shining in the moonlight with deadly intent. Jimin can feel that he’s still moving -- that all of this is happening in slow motion as he runs for safety and that no time at all has actually passed -- but he feels his whole world stop, drowned out by the sound of his heart pounding in his ears, when the beast shifts. Preparing to attack, it turns its head at the last moment to meet his eyes, and Jimin sees then that he knows these eyes. He knows the way they look him over with guarded concern and the way they turn away from him as soon as they know he’s unharmed, silently telling him to find his own way out -- after all, Jeon Jungkook’s always made it clear he has better things to do than look after Park Jimin.

Jungkook presses all his weight into his back legs, crouching low for a moment so suspended in time that Jimin doesn’t even see him leave. But then he’s gone, wind rushing past Jimin’s face and blowing debris everywhere as the wolf takes off. After another hard tug from Y/n that pulls Jimin’s focus back to the matter at hand, he only hears when Jungkook finds his first target, the ripping of cloth and the hellish cry of pain ringing in Jimin’s ears like a nightmare.

Tripping over pieces of the ceiling and walls -- the back half of the house essentially crumbling in on itself -- Jimin finds the faces of each of his friends. They’re all there with the exception of Jungkook, who seems almost feral, if the shrieks of death behind them are anything to go by. The group stumbles from the side of the house through a door that’s comically useless at this point, and when they circle around to the back, it becomes clear that there are far more than 6 Death Eaters.

The group that had led the attack has all but been taken out now, Jungkook nowhere to be seen -- but he’s certainly left evidence of his presence there. Jimin can’t tell if these people are dead or still dying, but he doesn’t have time to sort through the discarded bodies to check. Behind the cottage is a field of tall wheat that's surrounded by forest-- a massive expanse of land -- and when they look into this field to the top of a hill not too far away, there’s another wave of Death Eaters lined up, these faces rather familiar to just two of his friends. Jimin hears swearing behind him, and then Hoseok’s pushing past him roughly, only stopped by Namjoon’s hand clamping down around his wrist.

“Don’t, Hoseok! We can’t do this -- there’s too many of them. We have to run--”

“They just tried to kill me, Namjoon! In my own home!” Hoseok whirls around and gets in his face, eyes wild. Jin tenses next to Y/n, one of his hands hovering over his pocket where his wand is. When she follows his eyes, she sees that the line of Death Eaters has started to approach.

They move slowly, as if they have all the time in the world. As if they have nothing to fear, organized and protected against this mismatched group of ambushed friends. She watches as they approach like predators waiting for the kill, and she knows that this is no simple Death Eater attack -- it’s a massacre.

And then, just as silently as he’d disappeared, Jungkook’s returned. Their attackers are given no warning, only registering that the wheat around them is rustling when one of them is violently pulled down into it. He’s gone in an instant, his screams echoing in the night as he’s dragged through the dirt toward the house.

The moment Jungkook emerges at the edge of the field, the Death Eater is flying through the air and crashing into the remains of the house, slung from Jungkook’s jaws like nothing more than a ragdoll. He lands not a few feet away from them, and Yoongi’s jaw clenches when he recognizes the bloodied face of a fellow Slytherin. Turning to lock his gaze onto the line of his old classmates, he pushes past the group and summons his wand from within the rubble of his home with nothing more than the flick of his wrist. It flies from deep within the ruins into its master’s hand with ease, and Yoongi spins it between his fingers casually once he has it.

“I really hope you guys all know how to cast shields as powerful as Jungkook’s -- otherwise, we’re fucked.” The wolf in question falls into line with Yoongi, his whole body shaking from the warning growl forming deep within his chest. The rest of the group follows, facing their enemies head-on.

From Jungkook’s other side, he feels a warm hand press into the top of his head, and he knows it instinctively. He can also feel the cold length of a wand, hidden easily in the darkness of his fur and beneath her flattened hand. Y/n keeps him there for only a moment -- knowing they only have a moment -- and presses her fingertips against his skull as if to hold him back. As if to stall him just long enough to tell him to be careful. And then the moment is gone and she’s wrapping her fingers neatly around her wand, releasing him with a whisper.

“Go.”

--

None of them can say how long they’ve been there -- every second that passes is another that they could lose their lives, so it feels like they’re there a lifetime. They’ve huddled into a small circle, surrounded completely. Jungkook is mobile, weaving in and out of their enemies at too fast a speed to ever be hit by a curse. He’s taking them out slowly, dragging them back into the darkness one by one while the rest work just to stay alive. Unlike at the World Cup, where every enemy shot fired was red, these beams of lights are all hauntingly green, glowing in the night sky -- a sign that things are different now, death standing only a few feet away in the form of old friends.

Every killing curse fired is met with an equally powerful shield, a wall that shatters the moment it meets its mark. They’re cancelling each other out, evenly matched in a battle that won’t end until someone gets tired -- until someone makes a mistake. The only sounds come from incantations, spoken by those of their group that cannot cast silently.

Hoseok and Yoongi fight much like their opponents, masks of guarded silence -- a reminder that while they’re on opposite sides of the war, they were once very much the same. The difference, of course, is that their old housemates are now murderers without remorse. But that’s not their only problem.

Y/n suddenly stumbles next to Jimin, and he can’t even tear his eyes away from the Death Eater before him to check on her. He can only reach for her with his free hand, gripping her wrist in panic, which she rips from his hold with a groan. She only barely manages to raise her wand in time to block the killing curse headed right for her head. The force of her shield colliding with the curse so close to her knocks her back, and she falls into the circle with gritted teeth.

Jimin steps in front of her, closing the gap in their circle and allowing her a moment to recover inside their circle. But she never returns to her spot, only curling in on herself and gripping at her head with a cry of pain -- she knows this feeling. The feeling of her skull splitting, her body rejecting itself as it turns into something unnatural -- something unhuman.

But this can’t be happening. The full moon is not tonight, something she confirms simply by rolling over in the dirt and looking up at the sky, in excruciating pain. She can see clearly that this cannot be her reality, yet the popping of her spine as it dislocates itself is very much real. Reaching out blindly, she latches on to the first person she can find, her hand clamping down around Hoseok’s ankle and squeezing with all her might. He hisses above her and manages to glance down long enough to see an expression of pain he’d long become accustomed to.

“What the fuck?!” It’s the first time he’s spoken in ages, his attention back on his opponent as he works out in his mind how this is possible. There’s no time to reason through what he knows, however, because Y/n’s teeth are clenching so hard she’s afraid they might crack, her grip on his ankle tightening painfully. Hoseok makes a snap decision then, calling out into the night.

“Jimin, listen to me.” The boy’s on his left, so focused on the shield he’s casting that he responds only once he’s successfully blocked the deadly beam of green light.

“What is it, Hoseok--”

“You have to take her into the forest. Now.” His instructions are muffled by the sounds of a curse crashing into Namjoon’s shield, unheard by their enemies, but Jimin hears him clearly. He also hears the urgency in Hoseok’s voice, telling him there’s no time for questions. “It has to be you, Jimin.”

He knows then what Hoseok’s saying, what he hasn’t had the chance to confirm himself. Y/n’s transforming on a night other than the full moon, and they’re out of time. He calls for Y/n then, reaching back for her.

“Y/n -- baby, listen to me. We gotta go.” There’s a moment of nothingness, only her groans of pain, but then he feels her hand slamming down into his and gripping hard. And then his body is working faster than his brain.

Stepping forward out of the circle and straight for the man that’s been trying to end his life all night, Jimin swings his arm out, bringing a new shield up with him as he goes. It hits the Death Eater from the side, catapulting him through the air. Just as he’s in the downward arc of his fall, he’s caught suddenly, torso trapped in Jungkook’s jaws as the wolf leaps into the air to capture his next target. They crash to the ground not far away, hidden away in the wheat.

Jimin pulls Y/n to her feet, pointing his wand out into the field as he runs for the treeline.

“Fumos!” The effect is immediate, smoke pouring out of his wand and swirling around him in a dense fog. It keeps them hidden as they make a beeline for the trees, allowing them safe passage. Jimin chances a look over his shoulder and sees that the smoke hasn’t passed over his circle of friends, ensuring that they’ll still be able to see clearly and protect themselves.

Y/n stumbles again as they run, but Jimin’s hold on her keeps her going, and she registers that he’ll be there for her transformation. Panic seeps in through the pain, and she calls out desperately for him to stop, her vision leaving her. Jimin can feel her struggling against him, but he tightens his grip and forces her to follow. They’re close to the treeline by now, but it won’t be enough until they’re completely hidden. And, although he can’t see where the wolf has gone with his old enemy, Jimin steps in something wet and everything suddenly reeks of blood, so he knows Jungkook is near. Apparently, Y/n can smell it, too, because she’s struggling harder now.

“Jungkoo-- Jungkook, stop him!” Jimin grits his teeth and stops, turning to face his girlfriend and pulling her forward. She crashes right into him, the force of his sudden movement propelling her straight into his arms. Her eyes are wide open but her vision’s completely blacked out, which Jimin can see in the fact that she won’t look at him. But he doesn’t need her to.

Ducking low, he wraps an arm around her waist and throws her over his shoulder, ignoring her cries of outrage as he races for the forest just ahead. She pounds her fists against his back, practically roaring with fury as she fights him. He only pushes on, telling himself he’ll let her be as mad as she wants later, if they’re still alive.

Once they make it into the forest, Jimin runs only far enough that he feels unseen before setting her on her feet. She’s immediately falling to the ground, crawling blindly away from him and clawing at the dirt in pain.

“Go away! Just go away!” Disappearing behind a tree, she swears at him loudly, looking for any outlet for her pain. Jimin only turns to the treeline, letting her curse him as he surveys the land around him for Death Eaters. All he sees is Jungkook in the distance, turning in circles in the field as if lost.

Jimin watches as the wolf races for their friends, sliding to an urgent stop and turning back again in confusion when he doesn’t find what he’s looking for. He sees when Jungkook’s ears perk up at someone’s call, and his head is turning in Hoseok’s direction. Hoseok’s lips move, giving instructions Jimin can’t hear, but he knows exactly what’s been said when Jungkook’s whipping around to look at the trees.

Interestingly, the wolf hesitates, moving forward before stopping to looking over his shoulder. It’s only a moment, but it’s enough for Hoseok to point out at the forest urgently as he blocks another curse. Jimin can read Hoseok’s lips clearly then as the older boy calls out to Jungkook.

Jimin will die if you don’t go.

The chill that runs down Jimin’s spine at that moment, an omen playing a cruel joke on him, only worsens when he realizes that he’s stopped being able to hear Y/n’s pained gasps. A low whine rings out behind him, and it’s with bated breath that Jimin’s turning slowly on his heels.

Towering over him with an icy gaze locked on him is Y/n -- rather, it’s the part of Y/n that has no idea who he is in that moment. The eyes that see him only see through him, completely empty of anything that isn’t primal. Where Jungkook’s eyes are still his own even in a wolf’s body, these eyes don’t recognize him, and Jimin knows that fact alone will haunt him forever.

Yet, he isn’t afraid of her. He’s only afraid for her -- for the way she’s still curled in on herself, still in pain. He’s afraid for the way she blinks, thoughts muddled and lost, struggling to find herself in the darkness of her mind. He’s especially afraid for the way she finally gives in, losing her will to fight for herself. Her pupils shrink and grow until she’s focusing in on him, and Jimin knows by the way she tilts her head curiously at him that he’s got her attention -- and that’s never good.

When she takes a step toward him, he mirrors it with a step back, and that alone seems to set her off. She moves suddenly, closing the distance between them easily. She leans down until her snout is pushed close to his nose, snarling at him as he stays frozen where he stands. When she raises one clawed hand, he barely has time for a final thought before she’s swinging down at him.

Well, shit.

Suddenly, Jimin’s flying through the air and crashing to the ground a few feet away, rolling to a stop at the base of a tree with a groan -- but he’s in one piece. Lifting his head, he finds that he hadn’t been sliced to pieces by his own girlfriend. He’d been shoved out of the way by a wolf twice his size, the wolf in question now standing where he had just been.

Jungkook’s got his teeth latched around Y/n’s wrist, growling loudly to keep her attention on him. They stand there a few moments, eyes locked in a tense stare-down of dominance. Y/n eventually raises her other hand, claws gleaming in the moonlight, but Jungkook only growls again, a warning. It stops her, as if recognizing this moment, and, although she seems enraged by the display, she lowers her hand anyway.

Ripping her other, trapped, wrist from Jungkook’s jaws, she lets out her own snarl and steps toward him, and Jimin thinks these two might really tear each other apart. But Jungkook’s been here countless times, and he’s still of clear mind, so he knows exactly what to do.

Crouching quickly, he snaps his teeth at her ankles, sending her backwards. She roars angrily, but he persists, snapping at her feet again and again until she’s finally scurrying off into the forest with a cry of outrage. Jungkook watches her go before rushing to Jimin, startling the boy out of his shock.

The wolf sniffs at the air around Jimin, knocking him around with his massive head as he pushes his snout into Jimin’s torso, checking for injuries. Jimin’s lost for a moment, wondering exactly why Jungkook’s expressing so much concern when Y/n should be his priority, but then he remembers exactly what it would mean if he had been caught by one of Y/n’s claws.

Once Jungkook’s done checking that Jimin won’t be turning into a werewolf anytime soon, he’s gone, disappearing after his sister. Jimin only sits there, bruised and battered but alive all the same. Then he hears someone yelling Taehyung’s name in the distance, and he’s on his feet.

Rushing out to the field, he stops at the top of the hill, his breath catching in his throat when he sees the scene down below. His friends are still surrounded, and, although the number of Death Eaters has been severely reduced thanks to the merciless animagus running around, there’s still too many of them. But before he can rush to help, something happens, all too fast to process -- and Jimin has the displeasure of witnessing everything from that hill.

Down in the circle, the rest of the group is fighting for their lives. Many of the boys have sustained injuries simply from their own shields exploding too close to them -- pieces of the ground and debris from the house are thrown around, catching on their bodies in surface wounds they won’t even notice until the next morning.

There’s a special kind of desperation spilling off of Namjoon and Taehyung -- the only muggleborns in that circle -- and it’s making one of them reckless. Namjoon’s keeping his cool, as he’s been in the Order for months now and has had the battle training, but Jin’s having to compensate for small mistakes Taehyung is making out of fear. The Gryffindor’s only a boy, a boy targeted simply for being born. This is the first time he’s ever been faced with his own reality, and he’s terrified.

So when he slips on a piece of rubble at his feet, the only thing that keeps him alive is the fact that he’d moved his head a quarter of an inch to the left just in time. The killing curse flies past him and through the circle, passing Yoongi on the right and hitting a mark just past him -- that mark is the Death Eater that Yoongi had been battling all night.

The boy crumples instantly, the light in his eyes gone. Yoongi watches as he goes, his mind blank as the body crashes to the ground. And then he’s turning on his heel, everything slowed and muffled around him. The Death Eaters have all stopped, equally shocked from what’s just occurred -- after all, they’re just boys, too.

Yoongi hears Jin yelling Taehyung’s name, and he sees Hoseok rushing for him. He watches as Namjoon starts to run to Tae and then stop, raising his wand and choosing to keep guard instead, realizing that their fight isn’t over. Yoongi watches all of it with wide eyes, thinking then that this scene would be very different had the curse hit Taehyung as intended. He spins, staring down at the dead body below him, thinking that this is what Taehyung would have been. This lifeless, empty corpse. And that’s just too much for someone like Yoongi to deal with.

In that moment, the strength of the silent marksman is broken, shattered from within as he fights no longer to protect his own life but those of his friends. In that moment, he proves to be much more worthy than he’d ever thought himself before, breaking through that perpetual tendency to hide himself away — but it comes at a price. Because it’s in that moment that Min Yoongi, for all that he’d tried to free himself of that cursed name, finally gives in to the bloodline he’d spent his whole life denying.

“Protego diabolica!” The spell is cast like the roar of a dragon awakened, enraged -- the first time he’s spoken an incantation in years. It’s ripped from his lungs against his will, uttered with nothing but the urge to destroy, the need to bring pain down on his enemies so that they may never hurt his family again. That dark magic — so forbidden, so evil — follows the command of his left arm, quite literally brought to life by the malice in his eyes and the sweeping of his hand in an arc around himself. And for the first time in the 7 years Jimin had known the shy, self-loathing Slytherin — so guarded from the vulnerabilities of life — he watches from that hill as Yoongi loses control.

The fire that flows out of his hand like water -- icy and unforgiving -- spreads out around Yoongi like a wall of pitch black rage. It passes right over his friends -- they flinch at the foreign magic and its caster, who seems equally foreign to them now. They watch with awe as Yoongi commands the fire, forming a protective circle around them with ease. It almost seems to feed off of his rage, growing with every breath he takes and shrinking with the fall of his chest. He is a snake no more -- a dragon birthed of fire and blood stands in his place.

Jimin watches in pained silence as one of his closest friends loses himself to the war -- but even now, he can still see that Yoongi’s still there. And it’s Yoongi that will have to deal with consequences later, but right now he’s doing whatever it takes to save them. And that includes exploding with anger the moment he spots Jimin still up on that hill.

“Get your ass in here!” The ring of fire seems to swell with his outrage, and Jimin is in no place to refuse. The Death Eaters are still shocked and disoriented by the wall of fire they’re now faced with, and Jimin uses that to his advantage. Racing down the hill, he leaps into the circle, the cold flames licking at his ankles as they let him pass, recognizing him as a friend to their master.

Having seen Jimin’s success at passing through the ring, two of the Death Eaters rush at the wall, unaware of the nature of this dark magic. The moment they make contact with it, the fire senses their intentions, reacting accordingly. Jimin watches as they dissolve into nothing, shrieks of pain ringing out into the air as the fire consumes them. When he turns, he sees that Yoongi is shaken by this, his eyes conflicted as he watches two of his classmates cease to exist, remembering exactly what kind of magic he’s just brought into the world.

But when one of the last Death Eaters attempts to cast another killing curse into the circle, hoping to get through, the fire seems to act not on Yoongi’s command but on his instinct -- and his instinct is to block it. The flames explode outward, concentrating into a wall of protection and destroying the curse. And then they reach further, snaking out to overpower the boy who’d cast the spell, consuming him and his plea for mercy.

There’s only one Death Eater left, standing just outside the circle. Yoongi locks eyes with him, sees the trembling boy staring back at him with fear. They see each other, remembering simultaneously all the times they’d eaten together at mealtimes and suffered together during exam season. They’d grown up together. Just how they’d ended up here, neither of them can recall in that moment, and it destroys whatever innocence they’d had left.

Yoongi finally looks out to the field, his eyes flicking quickly before returning to the Death Eater. The boy hesitates, eventually stepping back. After another moment, he turns, running for his life and never looking back.

When he’s gone, the ring of fire fades, the wall tumbling down until all that’s left is a ring of earth around them that’s been burned to a crisp. Yoongi crumbles then, falling to his knees and staring at nothing. Jimin and Hoseok rush to him, eyes scanning him in concern. They all remain silent, words unable to express what any of them are feeling. Finally, Yoongi lifts his head, still unable to lock eyes with anyone.

“Is everyone okay?” They don’t answer his question, Jin only scoffing in shell-shocked disbelief.

“Are you okay?” Yoongi looks at his best friend, and he knows Jin can see right through him. They all can. He doesn’t respond, and they fall to silence again. Surrounded by bodies and destruction, unable to comprehend what’s happened. Unable to fathom how inexplicably broken they’ve become.

Just when they’re ready to face each other -- when they’re ready to face the aftermath of this night together -- a howl rings out from the forest, pained and haunting. They all lift their heads to stare in exhaustion at the treeline, outlined perfectly by the light of a moon that isn’t full. Yoongi chuckles darkly, shaking his head as he rises slowly to his feet and dusts off his pants before turning to look at what's left of his home with a long sigh.

“This family’s a fucking mess.”

[obeiii-mee]

Hi there! Im back, tysm for doing my HC ;;/ it was super cute, i really liked Mammons and Satans!! If you dont mind if i ask for another? Hdjsks Recently, i slipped while walking home with some pals and scrapped my knee. It wasnt too bad, but it sure looked bad lmao If you can could you do HCs for the boys reacting to MC slipping and scrapping there knee while walking w them? Im sure Mammon would have a heart attack hfjd Tysm!! Keep up the good work♡

Thank you so much! I hope your knee gets better and that it wasn’t too painful! The brothers would all be panicking in their own way but I agree, Mammon would faint or something lmao.

Hope this was OK.

————————————

The Brothers with an MC who fell and scraped their knee:

Lucifer:

-It was a miracle you managed to convince him to come out on a walk with you at all

-The man doesn’t know when to take a break from his work

-He’s more likely to accept if it’s you asking tho, he has an obvious soft spot for you

-The others call him a suck up behind his back because of it

-You were so happy that you managed to pry Lucifer away from his desk, you were basically skipping alongside him

-Long story short, you tripped over your own two feet and fell

-Luckily, your knees and palms were the only things that got a bit scruffy

-Well, actually your right knee looked as if someone tried removing your entire knee cap with a scalpel, skin and all but adrenaline was kicking in and you couldn’t feel much

-You’ve never seen Lucifer freeze the way he did then

-His mind just drew a blank

-You were about to shrug it off and call it a day, get up and continue your walk but daddy Lucifer can’t have that

-He has six younger brothers (and a younger sister at some point) he is pretty experienced when it comes to treating injuries

-You aren’t walking for the rest of the day, let me make this clear

-He will carry you back to the House of Lamentation no matter how much you protest

-In case it wasn’t obvious already, Lucifer gives off massive dad vibes and now he’s bandaging your leg while you’re laying down on his bed

-While the rest of the brothers watch the two of you from behind the door frame because they are all equally worried

-Get ready for the three hour lecture coming your way

-He’s pissed and amused at the same time tbh

-Silly human, falling over like that and hurting themselves

-Lord Diavolo forbid you try to get out of that bed, he will drag you back and make sure you stay there until your knee is better (kinky)

Mammon:

-He was on his merry way to the casino to blow off all of Lucifer’s money and you tagged along solely for the purpose of making sure he didn’t spend all of Lucifer’s money

-You’d both be done for if he did

-But I guess fate really had it out for you on that day since your foot slipped on....something and you tripped

-Both of your knees looked bloody and damaged as hell but you were more irritated than anything

-Mammon on the other hand did a fucking double take and almost passed out

-He screeched his lungs out

-One look at your injured knees and he was ready to drag you all the way to the human realm on foot to find you a doctor

-“MC ARE YOU OK WHY THE FUCK IS THERE SO MUCH BLOO-HOLY SHIT STAY STILL DON’T MOVE! THE GREAT MAMMON WILL FIX THIS...SOMEHOW.”

-It was very dramatic, he cried

-You stood up to prove that you were alright because you thought he was going to have a seizure soon enough

-OK, that helped him calm down a little

-At least now he knew your legs weren’t about to get torn off and you weren’t on the verge of death

-Fuck the casino, you were going home

-Like Lucifer, don’t expect you will walk home by yourself

-He will carry you, a bit embarrassed by his initial freak out but still eyeing your wound, concerned

-As soon as you get home and the other brothers help you out because he’s shit at bandaging, he just sits in his own pool of misery and guilt

-Your poor knees wouldn’t be so jacked up if you hadn’t come along with him today

-He was so determined to make it up to you, he stayed by your bedside like a loyal puppy with a wagging tail (flashback to the animal event)

-Overall, he almost went into cardiac arrest and was too panicked to realise you were fine

-You thought he was smothering and overprotective before? Good luck for the rest of the week

Levi:

-“See, this is why I don’t like going out. There’s always some normie laying on the groun- OH MY LORD DIAVOLO, MC IS THAT YOU?? ARE YOU OK?”

-HIS HENRY ALMOST DIED ON THE NEWLY POLISHED FLOOR OF AN ANIME CONVENTION, HE HAS VERY MIXED EMOTIONS

-You fell knees first and hurt them quiet badly but you could stand, even if the pain made you twitch a little

-This confused Levi because you looked fine even though your knees certainly didn’t

-You told him you felt alright and it wasn’t that big of a deal and he absolutely rolled with it

-But you guys still went home after that

-He said it was because you bled all over your cosplay but that’s just him being a tsundere

-Levi is usually very shy when it comes to physical contact but he firmly insisted that he help you walk home

-I mean, he knows you said you were feeling OK and maybe humans just have a lot of tolerance for injuries like that

-But he still felt it was necessary that he took you home and checked out your injuries

-He kept the mood light while disinfecting you’re wound with some help from Satan by talking about how the convention went

-High low-key relieved seeing you walk around like normal two minutes after that

-He started bitching to you about how you made him miss his the event but he didn’t mean any of it

-“Stupid normie, making me miss my favourite Ruri-chan event. You’re lucky I love you and think you’re cute....did I just say that out loud??”

Satan:

-Oh dear, why would you go out for a walk in the middle of a rainstorm? What were you thinking?

-Actually, it was Satan’s idea

-He may be a demon and the prince of Wrath no less, but he is such a sappy, cheesy bastard at times

-He definitely thinks that walking and kissing in the rain is very romantic (bet he read something like that in an erotica)

-You know what’s not romantic blondie? Slipping on a very small puddle and potentially fracturing your leg

-It was just a scraped knee but you were frustrated enough to be extra

-He’s helping you up before you even have the chance to realise you fell in the first place

-Your knee was looking pretty bad so you guys went home just to avoid any further casualties

-He’s actually chuckling all the way back while you playfully glare at him because how dare he laugh at your misery?

-Date night was ruined but at least he got to take care of you

-He knew your knee must have hurt and he felt bad but he couldn’t help but giggle a bit to himself because your fall was so comical

-Ah but he does enjoy fussing over you for the rest of the night a bit too much

Asmo:

-You thought Mammon was melodramatic?

-Take a look at this fucking guy

-He actually screeches even louder than his brother and probably falls to his knees too (but not really because those pants were expensive)

-His screams definitely got the attention of at least 10 random passerbyers

-He’s actually on the verge of crying

-I mean, can you blame him?? Look at your beautiful knees!! They were ruined

-He felt so bad for you, he actually babied the hell out of you that day

-“Asmo, it’s fine. It’s just a scrap.”

-“A SCRAP, MC IT LOOKS LIKE YOUR KNEE IS ABOUT TO FALL OFF YOUR POOR SKIN-“

-It was just a scrap but Asmo’s secret talent is being extra as fuck

-He totally spilled all the tea to the rest of the brothers when he got home

-And then he ushered you into his room

-Funnily enough, he’s pretty good with injuries. Not as much as Satan and Lucifer but still

-He pampered you for the next few hours but that image of your skin being all grazed like that will forever haunt him

-How can you not be so bothered by it?? He’d die if he was in your place

-I love Asmo just because of how dramatic he is

Beel:

-Your shoelaces were undone and of course that meant a fun little trip to the floor of Hell’s Kitchen

-Beel didn’t notice you fell at first, he was concentrating on his food and assumed you were next to him

-But then he realised that you weren’t and for a moment he thought you disappeared or something

-Before he turned to find you laying on the floor, curled up because life was pain and you were suffering

-“Are you OK? Or are you just tired? Belphie does that a lot when he’s tired.” Or depressed one might say

-But for real, he’s good at identifying serious wounds and less serious wounds since he’s an athlete

-He can tell your knees were bleeding way more than they should have from just a simple scrap

-He slinged you over his shoulder and carried you, calmly, back home, with a burger still in his hand

-He’s actually really collective and talked to you while cleaning up your injury to take your mind off the pain

-He knows humans are a little more fragile than demons so even though he knows it’s not a big deal, he can’t help but worry

-It’s kinda hard falling around him tho because chances are, he will actually catch you even if he happens to hold something

-He’s sad if you’re sad so please don’t cry he will bandage your scraped knee do you want the last bit of his burger to make you feel better?

-Comfort hugs afterwards!

-Which is awesome because Beel gives out best hugs :)

Belphie:

-Ah yes, another beautiful day at RAD

-Walking alongside with your grumpy and sleepy boyfriend when a random demon bumps into you

-Wel not bumps, more like shoves you so hard you fall down and tear the fabric of your pants

-While the dude shrugs it off and speeds away

-You were a bit pissed off because rude

-But Belphie was fucking fuming

-He felt so offended on your part

-I mean, the nerve of him

-He was tired as shit but he wanted to chase after him and throw hands, possibly fill his pillow with rocks and hit him over the head with it

-He forced himself to focus on you first before hunting the moron down

-He was a bit concerned when he didn’t see you come back up after you fell

-Turns out, you scraped your knee pretty horribly and now you were bleeding all over the floor

-He’s even more quiet than usual as he helps you up and half carries you to your next class

-He starts taking care of your knee in the middle of DevilDom history he doesn’t give a flying fuck

-He’s still furious by the time he gets home and most of his brothers know to leave him be when he makes that scary ass face

-No talk to him

-He angy

-“Does your knee still hurt?”

-“A bit but it’s not-“

-“Come nap with me.”

-“Why?”

-“Naps shall cure your pain.”

-“...”

-“Nah but for real come take a nap with me.”

-Next day at school, the dude from yesterday walks by him and Belphie smashes his head against the wall

-Before walking away as if nothing happened

-I stan protective Belphie

These HCs are really bad but I love them anyway

Al~

[houseofglass]

Hmmm, this spn prequel seems to have ruffled a lot of different feathers. My dash has provided me with Jared hate, Jensen hate, confused tinhats, and even a splash of Cockles/Destiel opinions.

Here’s my take. Spoiler alert: unpopular opinions ahead. I’m not linking anything because I’m in the middle of an unprecedented heatwave and I don’t feel like finding all the sources. Do your own research. Or not. Whatever. I just want to get this all out as coherently as possible. Here we go:

From the beginning, Jensen has been a professional. He didn’t let the drama on Dark Angel get to him and he’s said that he actively avoided having that same drama on the set of spn. He’s known as One-Take-Ackles because he brings his A-game every time.

Jared liked to mess around on set. Take after take after take after take. There was reddit post about how the crew would be working 13 (?) hours to get everything set up and still had six hours of teardown to do and then bam! actors messing about and making the day longer. Like, just say your lines dude. Anyway. Jared liked wresting, getting others to break, and pranking. I think he even pranked Misha by ruining his car more than once. Not cool, IMO.

J2 had a massive fight on set in season two. I recall it being about Jared egging Jensen on to fight but Jensen just stared him down until Jared left the set. They made up and agreed to never do that again as it promotes a bad workplace. Keep your shit contained, kind of thing.

But Jared didn’t, not really. One incident in particular is the wrestling with Osric Chau. Osric is a trained fighter and Jared was apparently going to slam him into the concrete. I repeat, into concrete. Osric dislocated Jared’s shoulder as a result. Jared still didn’t back off and Osric dislocated it again, this time Jared needed surgery and rehab. The wrestling finally stopped.

In all of this, J2 became good friends. I, personally, believe they started messing around sexually right after they auditioned for the parts and then got serious early on. They lived together, and Jared had his first breakdown immediately before announcing his engagement to Gen.

J2 are a good match. Jensen grounds Jared and Jared helps Jensen to be more outgoing while ‘on’ outside the set. Jensen seemed reserved and shy before Jared and was more confident and comfortable with Jared by his side. Jared can spin almost out of control and Jensen helps keep his feet on the ground. They also have an energy that’s been described as lightning in a bottle.

Fast forward a whole bunch of years. They’re still on the same show but have other interests. Each of them ensures that the other has the spotlight in turn. When one has a project, the other is quiet on social media so the focus won’t be taken away. They tell each other everything, as evidenced early on when PR and managers tried to play one off the other. They simply didn’t allow that to happen. Nope. Instead, they stepped back so one could shine. Jared opens a bar and Jensen is supportive. Jensen opens a brewery and Jared is supportive.

During all of this, they still perform at cons for fans. For a while, near the end of spn, I noticed Jensen seemed to be drunk/drinking often. He had a flask while getting a tattoo, he was spotted with fans while drunk and kissed one, the Bad Idea Instagram post. This isn’t unusual. He’s an adult. He can drink. I just thought it odd that I was noticing it more and asked myself, was he always a frequent drinker and he just stopped hiding it or is it a result of the rise of cell phones and constant casual photos?

But then Jared was arrested. He was drunk. Not tipsy or having a good time. Drunk. He assaulted an employee. A lot of people said he was just a big puppy and he didn’t mean anything by it, but that didn’t sit well with me. By this point I’d heard too many stories about Jared being a bit of an asshole. Also, I don’t think Jared has depression. I think he has bipolar disorder. He’s had too many incidences of mania for me to believe it’s just depression. He feels emotions deeply, that’s obvious to me, but he also has emotional swings that remind me of my own bipolar disorder. Am I self-inserting? Maybe. But I know the signs and I see them in Jared. BTW, depression meds can bring on mania if you have bd. You need a different cocktail for bd, and you shouldn’t drink while on them.

By the time J2 announced the end of spn, Walker was already in the works. I knew something was up when I saw Jensen advertising himself at every opportunity. The whole King Bacchus thing and him showing up at after parties/events that are designed for networking kinda cemented this for me. I figured he was parading around looking for work and wondered why Jared wasn’t doing the same. Then Walker was announced.

Now, I admit, my timeline there might be a bit off. Maybe Walker was announced before Jensen was King, but my brain is melting and I can’t remember. Either way, I did note that Jared had plans for post-spn when Jensen didn’t.

The wives started getting involved. Gen is on Walker and Danneel is part of Chaos Productions. Me, being the tinhat that I am, thought this was to ensure the wives have an income and are tied to their husbands. From a non-tinhat pov, I can see their involvement as a natural, nepotism thing that happens.

Jared is doing well on Walker, or so I’ve heard. I haven’t watched the show. Jensen got a role on The Boys and is filming now. Cool. Cool cool cool. Both have acting gigs.

Then Jensen announced, on social media, right before the Walker finale, that there’ll be a spn prequel that’ll be narrated by Dean.

Right. Before. Walker. Let that sink in. All these years, J2 have always stepped aside for one another to ensure they have the spotlight in turn. But now Jensen is hogging it? Jensen is taking the focus off Walker and putting it on himself? Not cool man, not cool.

Also, there was no mention of Sam in the prequel. No mention of the other half of spn. Jared has said, publicly, that he’d drop anything to work on spn stuff, so he’s available. So why wasn’t he ‘in the know’ about this? How could Jensen have slipped this past him?

Jared was seen in Colorado during Jensen’s birthday, just before Jensen went to Toronto. So they’ve seen each other. Even if, in the minuscule possibility, that Jared didn’t see Jensen that weekend, they’ve admitted to talking to each other a lot. So why didn’t Jensen, at any point, tell Jared about this prequel?

Then Robbie Thompson tweeted. Jared was hurt even more. Apparently, I heard through this blue hellsite, that Jared wanted RT to write for Walker, but RT refused. Why? Who knows.

Let’s go back in time, shall we?

Jared messed around on set. Jensen didn’t. I can believe that some crew members/writers/producers/directors would have hated working with Jared. Yes, I said that. Not everyone likes a goofball or prankster. Some people think those people are bullies in disguise.

Maybe, just maybe, the lines were drawn when spn ended. Some people supported Jared, others Jensen.

Before anyone yells at me too loudly, answer me this: how did Jensen - and everyone involved in the prequel including Kripke - keep this from Jared? Didn’t anyone at any point ask how Jared felt about it? Or if Jared was available? Or if Jared would have input? “He’s too busy on Walker” doesn’t cut it as an answer to me. Spn was about two brothers, always two brothers, and now a prequel will only feature one brother?

So I came to the conclusion that the industry deliberately took sides in this whole thing. Nobody told Jared because they didn’t want to work with him again. He has his own show, he’s busy, - these are easy ways of handwaving him out of the equation.

Bottom line, finally, is that Jensen stepped in some shit when he didn’t tell his co-star, his partner, his friend, about a prequel to the show they worked on for fifteen years.

Will I ever know all the details of why Jensen would do this? Nope. I’m not in the industry.

I still believe J2 were/are in a relationship and their wives are beards. I believe they have a wonderful friendship and were as close as two people can be. I don’t want to think that relationship is over. I don’t want to believe they’ve gone separate ways. But man oh man, Jensen fucked up big time here.

I can’t wait for a tell-all book thirty years from now.

[loudsnapdragon]

hello, i'm writing a very silly stobin and steddie fic set in a sex shop. it is silly. have a look?

BUY LOCAL: STEVE HARRINGTON'S GUIDE TO MODERN SEXUALITY 3/4 chapters. Rated Mature.

Amid the crotchless lingerie and silicone dildoes that litter the floor of Hawkins’ worst and best and only Adult Store, Steve undergoes a very short, and not very stressful sexuality crisis; Robin fails to lose her virginity; and Eddie refuses to admit why he doesn’t use Grindr.

It’s not what Steve expected out of life, definitely not what Steve's dad expected out of his life either, but Steve’s not complaining, well, not until he ends up locked in the stockroom, with nothing more than a bag of genitalia-shaped candy, and a prudish Eddie Munson to keep him entertained, with their least favourite gun-carrying regular tearing apart the merchandise outside.

excerpt below the cut

‘Co-captain’s log, the time is…’ Steve checks his watch. ‘4:47pm, the date is 06/10/23, we are currently locked-’

‘You cannot be serious.’

Steve snaps his head away from the security camera positioned in the high corner of the stock room, scowling at Eddie, who sits jaw-dropped, eyebrows set in a furious line, legs sprawled out on the floor, his elbows wresting on a cardboard box marked Penis-Enhancer 2000.

‘What else am I going to do? Dude, we just have to wait this out. I pressed the panic button. The police will be here soon. Might as well be productive.’

Outside the stock room, there’s a loud thump, a swooping noise, followed by the quiet woosh of air escaping an inflatable. Steve winces. Unlucky Doris.

Eddie pulls at his hair with both hands, his feet bouncing faster. ‘How is that being productive?’

‘It’s how me and Robin pass on notes, don’t be a dick. Just calm down and shut up.’ He turns back round to the camera. ‘It’s the sixth of October, and we are currently locked inside the stock room…’

There’s another bang from outside the stock room, the sound of Rodney’s muffled cursing, then a shelf falling over, a clattering of small boxes hitting the floor. Steve silently mourns his beautifully organised DVD displays.

Eddie clumsily jumps up onto his long legs, belt chains clanking on the cement floor, knocking over a box of skin rags in the process, starting to pace manically around Steve. ‘We’ve gotta do something! He has a gun.’

Steve shrugs from the floor. ‘It’s just Rodney.’

‘It’s just Rodney? How can you be so chill? He’s tearing your store apart!’

Steve rolls his eyes, giving up on his captain’s log. ‘Dude, this is like the third time this has happened to me. I don’t really care anymore. Ms. Scarlet has insurance, she’ll be fine.’

From the sounds of it, Doris will be the only casualty, which is a shame, Steve had grown quite fond of the inflatable sex doll.

Eddie stops his frantic circling around the six-foot square space. ‘This store has been robbed two times already?’

‘Oh, I dunno, probably, Ms. Scarlet seems prepared, but the other robberies weren’t here.’ Steve yanks Eddie down by the shins, because he just can’t deal with the unnecessary panic right now. ‘That was at Scoops.’

‘Who the fuck does a stick-up at an ice cream parlour?’ Eddie says, confused, which is good, maybe if he’s distracted, he’ll give up with the fretting. He settles beside Steve, leather trousers tacky as he wraps his arms around his knees, feet still bouncing.

‘Two guys who massively overestimated the value of vanilla milkshakes.’ Steve says, planting a hand on Eddie’s thigh to stop it shaking, only resulting in Eddie striking it off with a scowl.

Steve laughs, ‘Oh, I forgot there was a robbery at Family Video too, but I wasn’t working that day. And there was this car chase at the drive through, same day that me and Robin got locked in overnight, but that was just the kids messing with us.’

Eddie skews his eyes. ‘Dustin?’

‘Nah, not him. Will and Mike.’

‘Will?’ Eddie asks, tilting his head, surprised. ‘I mean Mike, sure. But Will? I did not expect that for him.’

‘He’s a schemer when he wants to be. He got pissy when I refused to give them free milkshakes on their big date. He pickpocketed the building keys off Robin when she wasn’t paying attention.’

Eddie smiles, feet slowly stilling. ‘Good for him. The boy deserves some mischief.’

‘Easy for you to say.’ Steve scoffs. ‘We’d just finished a ten-hour shift. I was exhausted. Have you ever been forced to make an emergency bed out of hamburger buns? Have you?’

Eddie’s eyes glint in the stock room’s dim light, and he laughs as he fiddles with his hair, curled round his finger, long line of his neck white and gleaming; and Steve considers, not for the first time, there’s danger here, in this trapped box. They’re locked here; inside the stock room, their phones lying dead and smashed behind the door, waiting until the police arrive as Steve’s least favourite regular throws a weaponised hissy fit outside.

‘Be honest, was that the worst place you’ve ever fallen asleep?’ Eddie asks, with a knowing lilt.

Steve sighs, smiles despite it. ‘Obviously not. The worst place was last night.’

‘Last night?’

‘Yeah. I swear, my Grindr date’s bed was stuffed full of rocks.’

Eddie laughs, throwing his head back, opens his mouth to speak, stops at the sound of a bullet pinging off the stock room door.

Steve turns to it, bolted from the inside. There’s another bang, a loud crash, then presumably what must be Rodney chuckling to himself.

Steve glances over at the screen with the different security camera views by the light switch, where all the store’s cameras are still very much covered in the silly string Rodney brought along, pink and orange lines dripping over the three of the four views, the fourth one just a grey-scale square in the corner, showing Steve and Eddie hauled up in the stockroom, looking like off-duty actors caught behind the scenes. 

Eddie starts biting his lip so hard it’s going bright red. ‘Fuck. Fuck. He has a gun! Steve, he has a gun!’

Steve pats his shoulder. ‘The door is like, titanium, or something. Ms. Scarlet says it’s bulletproof.’

‘Thank God.’ Eddie exhales, raises his hand to cover Steve’s, skin on skin, then a second later, blushes, and shakes it away. Steve can’t help but smirk.

‘This never happened upstairs, we’ve never had a robbery.’ 

‘Huh. I woulda’ thought a vape store would get tonnes of this shit.’

‘No.’ Eddie says, his legs practically hovering off the floor. ‘Not once. Never had it at the record store either.’

‘Was the record store your only other job?’ Steve asks, trying to find a conversation that will take Eddie’s mind of the madman outside. Probably rude to call Rodney a madman, like he’s an asshole, obviously, but it’s not his fault he has a couple screws loose.

‘Yeah, yeah. Only other legal job.’ Eddie says, unravelling his legs, almost relaxing. ‘Started working there at sixteen, stayed there four years. Then it closed, and… well… you know how my move to the city went after that. But shit man, I can still remember how bummed I was when Andy said he was going to sell the place.’

‘I get it, fucking pain in my ass when Family Video closed.’ Steve says, ‘And Scoops, and Benny’s, and Holloway Press, and Merrill’s farm, and the library, and…’

‘Christ.’ Eddie interrupts. He does that all the time. ‘How many jobs have you had? How did ya’ even get all them?’

Steve doesn’t try counting, he’d need his resume to know for sure. ‘Robin’s good at applications.’

Eddie snorts. ‘You get Robin to apply for all your jobs?’

‘Yeah. We’re a package team, she’s not going anywhere I can’t follow.’

‘Cute.’ Eddie rests his chin in his hand, elbow on his only-slightly shaky knee. ‘Soo how did you end up here? At this wonderful, titanium protected, sex emporium? She sent in an application for you both?’

Steve kicks out his legs and raises his eyebrows. The door remains shut, the barrage of Rodney’s destruction filtering through the cracks.

‘Actually, that was all me.’

[yespolkadotkitty]

i think it’s fair to say that i’ve fallen far too in love with your zach one shots — not only do you capture his persona so well, it genuinely feels like i’m watching an episode of brothers & sisters

also, your ricky one shot was also so so so good!! you have no idea how grateful we all are that you pluck these characters from obscurity and portray their defining characteristics so accurately while also adding the loveliest fluffiest fluff of all time

i was wondering if you would consider writing a jealous!zach one shot? ngl, the (mutual) pining mixed with jealousy trope is my guilty pleasure and i feel like jealous zach would be 11/10

anyway, just wanted to say you’re fucking amazing and i adore your writing — i hope you’re having a great day!!

THANK YOU FOR THIS LOVELY ASK

(NB: Ok I know this is not Zach but it COULD be. It’s the right year. There are SO FEW pics of Zach so let’s just go with it).

Words: 1700 ~ Warnings: jealousy, pining, angst, fluff, one awesome kiss

Pairing: Zach Wellison x gn!reader

************

YOU: Is it wrong to be attracted to the super in my building?

BFF: Why would it be wrong? Use it to curry favour! Get stuff fixed faster! What is he/she like?

YOU: Tall. Tanned. Dark blond. Has a tattoo - military maybe? Sexiest voice ever.

BFF: If you don’t get him, I will.

You set your phone down and smiled.

Maybe I should say something.

Zach had been the building super of your apartment block for the last three months. He was a massive improvement on the last guy, who spent his days playing Zelda and smoking weed and very occasionally getting off his ass to fix stuff.

He’d been to your place - conveniently next door to his, he had a live-in type gig - four times. The garbage disposal, the leaky faucet, the faucet again, and then the window.

Notes could be left in his mailbox downstairs by tenants who needed assistance. He always responded the same day, the next day at the very latest, and he always tried to arrange a time with the occupant that suited them.

He’d gotten all greasy and wet fixing the faucet, his plaid button-down clinging to him, and eventually he’d stripped it off, revealing a tattoo you hadn’t been brave enough to try and examine properly, and some serious biceps.

Next time I see him, you promise yourself.

BFF: Btw, what’s happening with the dude at no 16?

YOU: Nothing.

You’d engaged in a mild flirtation with the well-built guy across the hall. Sometimes he got your mail in his box by mistake and he dropped it off, but lately he hadn’t engaged with you, and you began to think he was just being friendly.

The next day, before you could properly think of what to write down for Zach, the washing machine that came with your place started to leak. You noticed when trying to take your clothes out of it.

“Crap!”

Rather than put a note in his box, you knocked on Zach’s door.

He opened it after a minute, surprise sketched on his handsome face, hair ruffled, sweat beading at the neck of his t-shirt. Past him, you could see weight lifting equipment on the floor, along with a small speaker playing 70s rock.

“Fleetwood Mac?” You ask, smiling. “They’re my favourite.”

“No kidding?” A smile tipped up one corner of his mouth. “So... “ His brown eyes met yours, warm, concerned. “Are you okay?”

“I hate to bother you directly, but my washer’s busted - leaking.”

“It’s no bother.” He glanced behind him. “Give me five, okay? I’ll be right there.”

“Thanks so much, Zach.”

He nods and closes the door. You’re about to turn back to your apartment when Well Built Guy - Damon, you think his name is - comes out of his own apartment.

“Hey,” he greets you.

“Oh, hey. How are you?”

He pushes a hand through his short, black hair. His single earring glints in the daylight; gives him a pleasingly piratical look. “I’m good. How are you?”

“Yeah, good - thanks.” You move again.

“Wait.” He takes a step closer in the small hall. “I was wondering if you - if you wanted to get coffee sometime? This place two blocks over does an amazing dark roast.”

“Oh, well-”

You’re cut off when Zach’s door swings open. He’s changed into a clean shirt, a forest-green henley, and he carries a faded red toolbox. His gaze darts between you and Damon, wary, and for a second, his mouth turns down.

As quickly as you see it, it’s gone.

“Sorry to interrupt,” he mutters, to you. “Can I go in?”

“I’ll let you in, Zach.” You turn your attention to Damon.”Catch you later?”

“Sure, sweet thing.”

He’s called you the nickname before but it’s never chafed until today.

Zach doesn’t react as you come to the door and let him in.

“Thanks for coming by so quickly.”

He doesn’t look at you. “You didn’t have to cut your time with your boyfriend short.” He sets his toolbox down by the washer and kneels, unbothered by the pool of water that begins to leech into the pale denim of his jeans.

“He isn’t my boyfriend.”

Zach sets about exploring the washer. “Okay.”

“He isn’t.” You stuff your hands in your pockets. “You want some coffee?”

For the first time, he looks up at you, and the expression in his honey-brown eyes is scraped bare, and then he looks away and the connection is lost. “Sure. Thanks. Black, one sugar.”

You busy yourself, just a few feet away - your kitchen is not big by any stretch of the imagination.

“Here you go.”

“Thanks.” He’s absorbed, only his waist and ass sticking out from the drum of the washer.

You potter off to do some work.

An half hour later, Zach knocks on the door of your tiny office - the only other “room” of your studio aside from the bathroom. 

“All fixed.”

“Thank you so much, Zach.”

He swipes the back of his hand over his forehead, leaving a smear of grease. “No problem.”

“You’ve got a-” You reach up, every nerve on end, wanting to touch him.

A knock sounds at your door.

Dammit.

“Sorry,” you mutter.

You swing the door open and Damon is there with two coffees.

“I was on my way back from the office,” he says. “I thought you might like to - oh, the super’s still there. Not fixed yet, pal?”

Damon says it innocuously but you see Zach’s shoulders tense.

“Nope, all good.” He rubs the palms of his hands together in a “that’s done” gesture. “I’ll get out of your hair.”

“... Place next door is this amazing Italian,” Damon is saying, oblivious. “It’s pretty pricey but I’d love to take you there.”

Zach pushes between you and out of the door, but you see the crestfallen set of his shoulders as he goes.

The door swings shut behind him and you turn back to Damon, resigned to see this conversation out, and to make it clear that he’s kind, but you aren’t interested.

*******

That evening, you take the stairs down to the communal gym in your building. Well. Gym is stretching it. There’s one ancient rowing machine, one treadmill, a barbell that has seen much better days, and a CRT TV that only shows Judge Judy. But, you don’t have to pay for it, so it beats a gym contract elsewhere in the city.

When you push through the door, Zach is on the treadmill, earphones in. He’s wearing a sleeveless vest and your gaze is drawn to his intricate tattoo - an eagle perched on a world, an anchor hugging the globe. Marines.

Wow, you think - wow.

Sweat trickles down the back of his neck, and his thick, dark gold hair curls around his nape.

Now or never.

You walk over to the treadmill and drop your gym bag to announce your presence.

Zach turns, does a double take, and then presses a button on the treadmill to slow it down. He pulls his earphones out.

“Hey.”

“Hey, Zach.”

Curiosity flits across his features. “Something you need?”

You swallow. He looks so good, his pale gold skin slick with clean sweat, his breath coming in soft pants, his chest rising and falling, lean muscles delineated by the clinging vest.

“No. I mean, yes.”

“And you can’t get the guy at 16 to help?” he snarks.

You step back.

“Sorry,” Zach says, immediately. “I just…”

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you assure Zach.

Above his head, on the TV, Judge Judy silently reprimands a woman with six face piercings.

“He could be. Guy like him. Good job. He’d take you to fancy Italian places.”

You curl your hand around the arm of the treadmill. “Maybe I don’t want to go to fancy Italian places.”

Zach huffs out a breath, but you have his interest.

“Maybe I’d just like to hang out with you.”

Suspicion narrows his eyes. “Why?”

“Maybe I like you? Did you consider that? Maybe, for some bizarre reason, I think you’re nice and attractive?” you wave your arms, frustrated.

Zach folds his arms across his chest, pursing his lips. “I used to be a Marine, but I had to resign my commission because I got hit hard with PTSD. I lived on the street for two years.”

You hold his gaze as he speaks. 

“Why are you telling me this?”

But then you know. He’s telling you so you’ll turn tail and go back to Damon, with his suits and fancy haircut and ability to take you out for $100 dinners.

He expects you to turn him down.

Because that’s what happens. What has happened and what he thinks will happen now.

Zach firms his lips and shakes his head slightly.

“Just go,” he says, so softly, mistaking your silence for pity, rather than resolve.

“No.” Instead, you lean up on your toes and touch your lips to his.

He starts, and then holds perfectly still. You break the kiss, and look up into his face, and he’s gazing at you like you hung the moon and all the stars.

“I like you, Zach,” you whisper. “And I don’t care if our first date is a picnic in the park.”

He blinks, turning away from you for a second, and then he ducks under the arm of the treadmill, and he’s so close that you breath catches. 

“I’ve thought about this,” he murmurs, and then he cups your face in his hands and kisses you like he means it, lips and teeth and tongue, and it’s everything.

You spear your fingers into his hair and breathe him in, press yourself against the hard wall of his chest, sigh his name against his lips.

“I gotta shower,” he says, with clear reluctance, his voice half an octave lower, unsteady from a kiss that has rocked both your worlds. “Then, let’s see about that picnic.”

**********

Zach Pit & permanent taglist: @mrschiltoncat @astroboots @songsformonkeys @biblioworm @aeryntheofficial @thirstworldproblemss @wheresarizona @pedropascalito @knittingqueen13 @alwaysbethewest @agirllovespancakes @f0rever15elf @heatherbel @frannyzooey @lannister-slings-and-arrows @sarahjkl82-blog @thedazeinmylife @holographic-carmen @idreamofboobear @fromthedeskoftheraven @disgruntledspacedad @chicken-nugget-puta @miulola @nelba @alienprincesspoop @tardisfangurl @synystersilenceinblacknwhite @mylonelylittleappreciation @filthybookworm @absurdthirst @thestrawberry-thief @lilangeldevil006 @marydjarin @jedi-mando @havenforafrazzledmind @myoxisbroken @10-96dispatcher @stormtrooperofficerbrowneyes @mrsparknuts @roxypeanut

[bombshellbois]

Bait

@harringroveweekoflove

Harringrove Week of Love Day 2: Mythological Creature AU

Rating: T

Words: 1641

Summary: Steve is barely paid enough to scoop ice cream under the hot sun at the Hawkins Aquarium. He's definitely not paid enough to deal with their asshole of a science project.

Steve is used to Dr. Owens showing up at his job by now. The Scoops Ahoy stand at the Hawkins Aquarium sees most of the science staff at some point because Indiana summers are fucking hot and a 15% employee discount is a 15% employee discount. Dr. Owens doesn’t come for the ice cream, though. He comes to ruin Steve’s day, usually carrying a bucket of raw fish for the... secondary duties Steve has now. 

There is no bucket today. There’s a black eye, a busted lip, and a ruined wetsuit under a Hawkins Aquarium windbreaker, but no bucket. The signs of carnage are not uncommon either. 

“Harrington.”

“Still think having a mermaid in an aquarium is a good idea?” Steve asks, glancing at him briefly before he goes back to wiping down the stand’s serving counter. 

“I didn’t ask your opinion,” Owens says shortly. Talking splits his lip back open.

“But you want something from me.”

“You’re on the clock, aren’t you?”

Steve could argue, and sometimes he has, that he’s on Scoops Ahoy’s clock, not Owens’. Not even the aquarium’s, technically. And he’s being paid 3 bucks an hour to sling ice cream, not deal with the world’s first known mermaid. But Owens seems to be having a tough day, so he lets it go. 

“Fine. Robin will be back from her break in 5 minutes. What do you need?”

***

Once Robin is firmly in charge of the ice cream scoop, Steve heads to the giant laboratory at the back of the aquarium. The heavy door buzzes open as soon as whoever watches the cameras sees him coming. Yeah, they all know him here, the asshole in the sailor uniform who’s Owens’ bitch.

‘We need to clean the tank,’ Owens had said. Which meant they needed to empty the tank first. 

Billy wasn’t having any of that, apparently. 

Steve sighs as he climbs the industrial staircase up to the top of the massive 2-story tank. There’s a lot of humming in his ears from the giant industrial filter and all the equipment in the room. He can’t hear shit inside the tank, but he doesn’t need to. A cursory glance over his shoulder confirms that, yep, as per usual, he’s got a mermaid following behind him. Probably staring at his ass. 

Billy pops up at the top of the tank, folding his arms on the rim of it as Steve reaches the top of the stairs. He shakes his head of wet, blond curls out, and grins when water splatters all over Steve’s blue work uniform. Steve has no idea where a mermaid learned to be such an asshole. 

“Hey, pretty boy,” he says, running his tongue over his sharp teeth. Steve doesn’t know where he learned that either. 

“Why are you roughing up Owens?” Steve asks, crouching on the platform along the lip of the tank, bringing himself down to Billy’s height. “You always bitch that your tank isn’t clean enough.”

“It’s not. Because it’s a fucking tank and not an ocean.” Billy flashes him a grin that shows off his teeth, like rows of pins. “What can I say? They don’t handle the merchandise correctly.”

Steve gives Billy a critical once-over. He’s all muscle, from the sturdy human trunk to the thick red tail that Steve has seen him use to break ribs. “Too delicate for Owens’ handling? That’s what you’re sticking with?”

Billy scrunches his nose, and that’s all the warning Steve gets. The giant fan of his tail fin pops out of the water and slaps down on the surface, hard. It sprays Steve with more cold water that definitely, definitely needs that cleaning. He coughs and splutters, fumbling for his hat when it falls. Billy makes a grab for it, but Steve manages to slap his hand away. This time. Billy already has two of these stashed somewhere in his tank, and Steve’s boss is going to start charging him if he keeps losing them. Even if it’s aquarium property that’s stealing them.

“Were you saying something there, princess?”

“Asshole.” Steve drops his weight back and sits on his butt. “What’s got your mer-panties in a wad? Seriously.”

Billy’s tail fin slides back under the water and he shrugs. “Where’ve you been? You haven’t come to see me.”

Ah. That’s probably it. “Missed me?” 

That earns him a dramatic rolling of eyes as if Billy has ever heard of anything so absurd. As if he hasn’t just roughed up a man in his fifties to get Steve to come to his tank. As if Steve is somehow the unreasonable one here.

“It’s okay if you did.” 

“We don’t feel shit like that. Merfolk aren’t pussies.”

Steve is pretty sure that’s a lie. According to Owens, mermaids might have a very complex system of interpersonal relationships, which may or may not include bonding the way humans do, blah blah blah. From what Steve can tell, Billy’s pretty human in respect to how his emotions work. He’s just a typical guy about them, meaning he doesn’t want to talk about them or acknowledge that they exist. 

He really hates that he’s the emotionally mature one here. That is not a thing that should be happening in Steve’s life right now. Robin has already confirmed for him that if emotions were a car, he wouldn’t even have a learner’s permit. He’d still be on roller skates. It’s a sound analogy, and it’s comforting because it confirms what Steve pretty much already knew. 

“I’m sorry I haven’t come to see you,” he says because it’s just faster. Pointing out that he’s not allowed inside this place unless Owens has requested his help won’t end well. Steve is pretty sure that’ll make Billy  just dig in his proverbial heels every time he wants to see Steve. That’s kind of sweet, in a Billy sort of way, but Steve doesn’t want to suddenly find himself working six days a week and on-call for Sundays even though the aquarium is closed. Easier to just take the blame. 

Billy huffs a breath out through his nose. “You’re just being nice so I’ll let them clean the tank.”

“And you were only an asshole to Owens so I’d show up and be nice to you,” Steve points out. He’s learned not to let Billy’s bullshit slide. He might be some majestic legend of the sea, but he’s also an asshole. And an opportunist. 

Billy breaks out into a grin, doing that Thing with his tongue again. “You got me.”

“So. Will you let them clean the tank?” Steve asks. “I’ll bring you your lunch in the holding tank and tell you about the bullshit new ice cream flavor they’re making us push.”

Billy looks up and off to one side as if he’s considering it. “Hm... sure.”

That was relatively easy. Small mercies. “Awesome,” Steve says, getting to his feet, sneakers squeaking on the wet platform. “I’ll tell Owens to get that hammock thing th—“

“But only if you carry me.”

Steve stares down at him. Billy just gives him a shit-eating grin, popping his tail fin back up and swaying it in what Steve swears is a taunt. Not that he knows anything about mermaid body language but that... that’s taunting right there. 

“No.”

“Then I’m not leaving my tank.”

“Billy.”

“Steve.”

Steve flails helplessly, gesturing to include all of Billy. “Dude. You’re over 200 lbs.”

Billy fakes an affronted look and pats his sculpted abdomen. “Hey. I’ve been watching my figure.”

“Your tail is the size of a person.”

“Only a small-to-medium size person.”

“I am not hauling your slimy ass down two flights of stairs.” Steve is not paid enough for this bullshit to begin with, but this is a whole new level of paid that he’s not getting. 

“Excuse you, I am not slimy!” Billy strikes the water again with his tail on a hard angle, sending a small wave of water crashing over Steve. Then he shoves back from the side of the tank and starts to submerge. 

“No, no, no!” Steve coughs and wipes the water from his face, crouching back down. “Okay. Okay, you win, I’ll carry you.”

Billy pauses and raises an eyebrow. “...And?”

“And... you’re not slimy.” Steve has no idea if that’s true or not because he doesn’t usually have to haul Billy’s entire ass around. But apparently, he’s about to find out. 

***

Getting down two flights of industrial stairs with a mermaid whose tail is the size of Steve when the whole thing is out of the water is... interesting. In a lot of bad ways. Steve’s arms feel like they might rip out of his sockets after the first  five steps because Billy is well over 200 lbs of muscle and fucking fish scales and maybe he’s not slimy but he’s definitely slippery. And then he has to get up a half flight of stairs to get Billy to the smaller holding tank. 

Billy thinks the whole thing is hilarious, and also steals his hat in the process. 

The only satisfaction Steve gets is dropping Billy’s heavy mer-ass into the holding tank completely without ceremony. Which, as he should have remembered, does the same thing as dropping any other large, heavy object into the water. Steve gets soaked for a third time today when the wave it creates crashes over him, but at least this one doesn’t reek. And maybe it even gets some of the fish smell out of his uniform. 

Billy pops back up from the water, laughing his ass off. “Good thing you look good wet, pretty boy,” he says, leaning on the side of his tank. “Now I believe you said something about lunch?” He snaps his fingers twice. “Chop, chop, I’m starving.”

Mermaids are assholes and Steve is absolutely not paid enough to deal with them.

[kyber-kisses]

Going Under

Dean Winchester x Reader

Warnings: cursing, spn level gore, drowning

Bad Things Happen Bingo

Square filled: Drowning

Summary: When the reader and Dean are captured by a nest of vamps, things take a slight turn when the readers life is suddenly put in mortal danger. Will Dean be able to save her in time?

“I can’t believe you.”

“Are you seriously going to bring that up right now?” You hissed, eyes blazing as you leaned forward to look at Dean.

“You’re damn right I am!”

“Dean, look around you. Now is really not the time.” You tried to gesture to the room around you but ultimately failed due to your zip tied hands.

So. . . Things may or may not have gone terribly wrong while you, Sam, and Dean were working a case. The three of you had been expecting a few vamps but somehow it had quickly turned into a full nest. One thing led to another, you and Dean were captured and Sam was yet to be found.

“Oh it never is, is it?” He grumbled, his eyes focused on his own restraints as he tried to figure out how to get out. He couldn’t have been more than four feet in front of you, the two of you facing each other. But it wasn’t the person in front of you that had you worried- it was what lay directly behind you.

The two of you were being held in the natatorium of the high school all the victims had attended, the air humid and filled with the strong scent of chlorine. The only lights that were still on were the ones embedded in the walls of the pool, the reflection of the water dancing turquoise on the tiled walls and ceiling. Your captors had yet to come back, the only sound being the lap of water hitting the edges of the pool.

Unlike Dean, you had your back facing the water. The back legs of your chair resting on the lip of the pool. Apart from your hands being bound together with zip ties you also had to worry about your ankles. Thick rope dug into your skin, binding them together. The other end of the rope had been looped through one of the holes in a cinder block, the piece of concrete partially sticking out over the ledge of the pool. All it would take was one small nudge to send you sinking.

Needless to say; this was not an ideal situation to be in. . . And to top it all off, Dean was still mad at you for the so called “hiccup” on the previous hunt.

“I told you, I’m not gonna apologize!” You snapped, leaning forward once more in your chair.

“Well you should! What you did was reckless and stupid!”

“I was saving your fucking life! You could be a little grateful every once and awhile!”

For a split second you expected steam to come out of Dean ears, his jaw clenching as he glared at you. “You jumped into the line of fire!”

“Yeah, to save your ungrateful ass! If I hadn’t done something you would be dead!”

Dean opened his mouth once more to respond, but was stopped short when the doors leading out into the hallway banged open, revealing what had to be the biggest vampire you had ever seen. It was like looking at a six and a half foot tall pillar of solid muscle.

“Well what do we have here?” He grinned, stalking across the concrete floor and towards you and Dean. “A Winchester tied up all pretty for me? It must be my lucky day.”

“And you must be the big ugly vamp I’m about to kill.” Dean fired back, twisting his hands in his bindings. His words getting a loud chuckle from the vamp, but once his amused expression fell he was driving his fist into the side of Deans face, his head being whipped around by the force.You wriggled in your seat, the instinct to kill growing tenfold.

“Hey big guy, hands off him!” You tried to leap up but didn’t get very far with your ankles and wrists bound, the failed action making you drop back into the seat. You could see Dean giving you one of his warning gazes, silently telling you to back off.

The vampire turned, his back now facing Dean as he took a step forward. “And who’s this?” He grinned, grabbing your chin forcefully with a calloused hand.

“Don’t you dare touch her!”

The vampire paused, looking back over his shoulder at the struggling Winchester. “Is she yours?”

“I ain’t nobody’s, you big ass freak.” You spat, taking your opening when he turned back to you,and slamming your head into his full force. He stumbled back with a string of curses, hand leaving your chin to slap over the point of contact.

“Why you little-“

“Bitch? I know. Very original.” You deadpanned.

Lowering his hand from his head, the vampire set his gaze on your before bringing hit hand back and connecting it with your cheek in a harsh slap that echoed across the pool. Head knocked back by the sudden force, you stretched your jaw. You gave yourself a moment before looking back up at him, a bloody grin on your face.

“I know pillows that hit harder than you do.”

He raised his fist again.

“I said don’t fucking touch her!” Dean growled, the plastic chair he was bound to creaking loudly as he tried to free himself.

Where was Sam? Sam needed to find them and quick before this dude did anything to permanently harm either of you.

The vamp smiled, clearly getting a kick out of seeing a Winchester squirm in his seat. “This is mildly entertaining to watch.”

“Fuck you.” You snapped, leaning forward once again. All you wanted to do was keep this guy away from Dean.

“Alright, and that’s enough from you.”

What happened next was so quick neither of you had time to properly process what he was doing. The vamp stepped forward and nudged the cinder block with the toe of his boot. The block disappeared over the edge of the formerly still pool with a loud splash and you were pulled back with it. Deans eyes widened in pure terror as you let out the beginnings of a yell before being swallowed by the water as well. It was as if gasoline was poured onto the spark of fear in his belly. One moment he was frozen in shock and the next he was struggling harder than ever before against his bindings, eyes flicking back to the number on the edge of the pool saying his deep it was.

8 feet.

There’s no way your gonna be able to fight yourself to the surface with your ankles bound to that block.

“You son of a bitch- I’m gonna fucking kill you!” Dean hissed. The adrenaline pumping through him was at an all time high. A sudden idea tumbled into his skull and Dean was suddenly planting his feet on the floor and pushing himself back with all the energy he could muster. The plastic chair careened backwards, and between his weight and the concrete flooring, the flimsy piece of furniture broke, pieces of plastic shrapnel flying out across the floor.

Meanwhile, you were struggling. A lot. Your head was pounding, every cell screaming for oxygen as you struggled at the bottom of the pool, your hair rising upwards like seaweed as you tried to break the zip ties, your body arching in your struggle. You tilted your head in the direction of the cinder block, the one thing keeping you from the oxygen your body so desperately needed. It felt like every inch of you was throbbing, your lungs on fire.

When was the last time you were this scared for your own life? You couldn’t remember.

Blackness slowly began to seep into the corners of your vision after a solid thirty seconds of struggling. You needed to breath. You needed to take a breath. And even though you try and fight it, you suddenly inhale whether it’s air or heavily chlorinated water. Just like that a cold flow of water is thrust up your nostrils, a stream cascading into the back of your throat and nose, sending jets of pain through your body. The steady hum of the water in your ears slowly begins to fade into something softer, gradually muting into silence, one with the darkness. You give up on the fighting and thrashing, allowing the water to hold you in a suspended position beneath the surface as everything goes black, your body giving one last spasm before shutting down. . .

Dean rolled to his feet quickly as the vamp lunged at him, using the plastic handles of his chair to somewhat defend himself as the monster attacked. He blocked the first few blows before he lost the upper hand, the vamp bowling him over and sending him sliding across the floor.

“I would just give up. She’s probably gone by now.”

Dean ignored him, crawling to his feet again before slamming into him. Once again, he only got a few punches in before he was pinned beneath the massive body. Solid hands wound around Deans throat, beginning to squeeze. It only lasted a second though before Dean hears the distinct whistle of a blade moving through the air, and the vamps head is suddenly freed from his shoulders, revealing a very bloody Sam behind him.

The younger Winchester let the machete drop from his hands as he pulls the corpse off of Dean, chest heaving. “Where the hell is Y/N?”

Y/N.

Dean is up and on his feet in seconds, rushing across the concrete floor as he quickly shrugged off his jacket before diving into the lit up water of the massive pool. It’s not hard to find you, but the chlorine burns his eyes as he dives to the bottom. The rope keeping you tethered to the cement block is thick, and Dean is thankful for the blade he keeps stashed in the side of his boot.

He works fast, his adrenaline still pumping as he saws through the rope. His lungs have never burned like this before and everything in him is telling him to go to the surface for more air. . . But he doesn’t. After what feels like an eternity the rope finally snaps and Dean wishes he could let out a sigh of relief. Wrapping his arms around your torso he searches for his last bit of strength and kicks upward.

“Dean!”

That’s the first thing he hears when he breaks the surface, taking in lungfuls of air as he tries to tread water. You are dead weight in his arms, and its difficult to keep the both of you above the waterline. Through the water in his vision, he can just barely make out Sam, his brother on his knees at the edge of the pool.

“Sam- help-“

Dean somehow managed to get close enough to the lip of the pool that before he knows it, Sam has his hands underneath your armpits and is hauling you out of what almost feels like a grave. Dean sucked in a breath before bracing his hands on the edge and pushing himself out of the water. Its only when hes on his knees next to Sam that he almost freezes at the sight of you.

Almost.

You look like a rag doll, your body limp and lips a light shade of blue. Fear runs rabid through his body still and just like that he is back in action.

“Sam, cut the bindings on her hands.” Dean spoke quickly as he pressed his ear to your chest.

Heartbeat. He needed a heartbeat.

After a moment he pulled back again, rolling up his sleeves as he started the compressions on your chest.

“You are not allowed to die on me, you hear? And definitely not like this.” Dean huffed. A small part of him was afraid that he might break your ribs with the amount of pressure he was using, but the desperation to see you breath took over and he ignored it.

“Dammit Y/N-“

Tilting your head back slightly, Dean lifted your chin and pinched your nose shut before placing his mouth over yours to create a seal. He gave you two breaths before pulling back and continuing the compressions.

His eyes stayed glued to your face, hoping beyond anything he would see a sign that you were still with them.

Nothing.

And then his mouth was back on yours as he tried desperately to breathe life back into you. “C’mon sweetheart. I got some things to say to you and I can’t do that if your dead.” He pulled back, hands going back to your chest.

Sam let his brother continue the cycle two more times before he was clamping a hand over Deans shoulder.

“Dean-“

The hunter swatted him away, continuing the compressions. “She’s not dead. She’s alive. She’s alive and she’s staying that way!” He panted,ignoring the sting of tears in his eyes as he leaned back down to give you another set of rescue breaths.

Apparently he was right because barely a second after he pulled away, you coughed. . . Or more like slightly gargled. A spray of water leaving your lips as you choked.

“There we go!”

Dean let out a sigh of relief as his shoulders dropped, the hunter helping to roll you to the side as you emptied an unhealthy amount of water from your lungs. His hand rubbing your back softly. Filled with relief he let out a light chuckle, pressing a kiss to the side of your head.

Unfortunately your body was still too weak to keep you conscious and once the water was out of your system you were slumping back onto the wet floor, your head coming to rest on Deans thigh.

“Y/N?”

“She’s out. But we need to get out of here Dean, I took down a bunch of them but I don’t know how many vamps are still here.” Sam sighed.

There was silence, Dean too focused on the unconscious Y/N in his arms to hear his brother properly.

“Dean!”

Snapping out of his state, Dean looked up- your head resting on the crook of his elbow. “Yeah, yeah. Okay. Hand me one of those towels.” He pointed behind Sam towards the rack, several towels rolled neatly and stuffed into it.

Sam popped up into his feet, quickly retrieving one before handing it over to his brother- who wrapped in snugly around you and then hoisted you into his arms.

“I got ya. I got ya.” Dean breathed, cheek coming to rest on your wet hairline. “We’re gonna get you back to the motel, and your gonna rest up and everything’s gonna be fine.”

He couldn’t tell if he was saying those words to comfort himself or you. Maybe it was both. Both would be preferred.

With Sam taking the lead, the two of them navigated the empty halls of the high school wanting nothing more than to leave it all behind.

*. *. *. *. *. *.

When you first eased into consciousness the first thing your body registered was that you were breathing. And this time it was actual air and not water. The second thing you noticed was that your body felt like lead, even your eyelids were struggling to open. Your fingers wiggled against the soft sheets as you slowly attempted to opened your eyes, the morning light trickling through the blinds of the motel room to illuminate the space.

You tried shifting your position, your body stiff as you let out a groan. Your sudden movement and noise gaining the attention of the other people in the room.

“Y/N?” Suddenly setting down his glass at the small table, he turned towards you, clearly surprised to see you awake. “Hey, how you feelin?” He spoke softly, sitting down besides you on the bed before reaching for your hand.

“What- what happened?”

Bracing your hands on the mattress as you tried and sit up. Dean was besides you in an instant, sticking a pillow behind you before helping you up to lean against the headboard. Why was Dean suddenly being nice to you? Last time you checked he was mad at you.

“You almost died, that’s what happened.” Dean scolded, sinking back down onto the side of the bed.

“Dean-“ Sam began, quickly being cut off by you.

“I’m sorry, what do you mean; almost died?”

“I mean, you almost drowned to death in a pool.”

Dean watched your eyebrows furrow in confusion. Drown? That didn’t make any sense. You knew how to swim. How the fuck could you possible drown?

“What were we doing at a pool?”

“What were we-“ Dean choked on the words, unable to believe you just asked that. “Y/N we were hunting a vamp nest.”

That’s all he had to say before it slowly came back to you. Bits and pieces falling into place. Some parts were still blank, but you remembered a good portion. Dean and you being caught. That big ass vampire. . . Something having to do with a cinder block?

“Wait Y/N, what all do you remember?” Sam spoke suddenly, worry crossing his features.

“Everything up until getting caught. . . And maybe a little more. But I don’t understand the drowning bit.”

Turning his attention from you to his brother, Dean looked at Sam with wide eyes. “Why doesn’t she remember?”

“I mean in some cases of drowning if there’s a lot of water in the system and depending on how long she was under. . . There might be some brain damage.”

“I’m sorry, brain damage?” You and Dean spoke in unison. You sat up a little straighter, suddenly worried.

“I don’t think it’s too serious, but I can call Cas. See if he can’t stop by to check on you.” Already pulling out his phone, Sam left the room leaving you and Dean to sit in silence. It felt like you sat like that forever before anything was actually said.

“Do you have any idea what I’d have to go through if you’d died last night?”Dean spoke suddenly, looking across the bed towards you.

“What?”

“Years of guilt. Crippling, self loathing guilt.” He continued, eyes darting down to look at his hands. “I know what you were trying to do last night. Antagonizing that vamp to keep him away from me. Putting yourself in harms way like you always do.”

Oh. Oh. That’s what this was about. You may not remember last night clearly, but that didn’t mean you didn’t remember the times before. It was what Dean had been angry about before as well.

“Dean-“

“You’re not supposed to die for me, Y/N.” He added. “And neither is my brother. But no matter what I say, or how hard I try to drill it into your skulls, you’re not gonna stop trying.”

“You’re right. I’m not going to stop trying. I love you too much to.” The second it left your lips, you were slamming a hand over your mouth.

Okay so maybe you did have brain damage. There’s no way a sane person would just let it slip they love someone. Nuh-uh. No way.

You watched Dean with wide eyes, trying to judge his expression. His own eyes widening for a moment before a soft and knowing smile fell across his features and he was reaching across to pull your hand away from your mouth. You didn’t realize until that moment how close he really was.

Dean gently leaned in, giving you more than enough time to pull back. . . But you didn't. His lips eventually pressing against yours softly. And no, it wasn't some sort of powerful, passionate kiss. It was a gentle and close-mouthed kiss like you do when you’re in eighth grade and you’ve never held hands before with a boy. It’s almost as if he’s testing the waters, seeing if you really want this. You do. More than anything.

“You know, I’m falling for you so much that it’s freaking me the hell out.” He paused. “That’s why I got mad. I don’t want you getting hurt, especially for me. Now I know that’s no excuse for me being a dick, i just- don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I lost you last night-”

“I wont. . .wait, You're falling for me?”

“Yeah.”

“I thought you hated me?”

“I could never hate you.”

SPN Taglist: (Still Open)

@familybusinesswritingbro​​@a–1–1–3 @awesome-badass-cafeteria-sauce @music-is-all-i-need @agusdoti​ @callmekda​​​ @jordangdelacruz​​ @orphiceseum​​​ @andthatsmyworld​​ @marvelfangirllll​​ @fandomnerdespressourself​​ @gladiosamicitias​ @castielsangelsx​​ @lxstgxrl-ck​​ @tis-i-the-wayward-idgit @amendoise @phoenixuprisingsstuff​​ @ericalynne007 @kaitlaitlaitl​  @totallyluciferr​​ @supernaturalenchanted​​ @dolanfivsosxox@supernatural-ocs @emptycanvasposts​​ @akshi8278 @defenderrosetyler​​ @heyyy-hey-babyyy​​ @supernaturalenchanted@emptycanvasposts @vicmc624 @all-will-be-well-love@busy-bee-angel-misska @starsandmidnightblue​​ @lilulo-12fanfiction @beanie-beebo​​ @xoxoaudreymarie​​ @greenarrowhead​​​ @mrsjenniferwinchester​​  @mysticalfuncollectorus​​ @brebolin​​ @biahblue​​ @noahandthegiraffe​​ @hhiggs​​​ @mila-dans​​​ @mrsmaybankhere​​ @malindacath​​  @littleagxs​

[makeste]

BnHA Chapter 280: I Am Red Riot

Previously on BnHA: The pro heroes over at Gunga Mountain struggled against Gigantomachia and the League until finally Midnight was all, “fuck it, let’s just put the kids in charge.” Momo immediately got to work organizing a sophisticated counteroffensive involving an exploding swamp, a bunch of sedative cans, and a massive coordinated team attack. I gotta tell you guys, it’s really something to watch a large-scale group attack in which all of the team members are actually competent. I don’t know what Japan put in the water when all these sixteen-year-olds were growing up, but that shit has paid off big time, and basically the only reason Machia hasn’t gone down yet is because he cheated and was all “sneeze” and the kids all got blown away because they are little and because he is really, really big. Anyway so then Dabi set the forest on fire because he loves doing that, and the chapter ended with Mina using her Acid Man attack to make herself FUCKIN’ FIREPROOF so she could charge through the woods ready to save the day and stuff!

Today on BnHA: Mina launches herself straight at Machia like the beautiful corrosive wild child she is, but then everything goes to shit when she recognizes him from that one time she almost got murdered while giving a strange man directions. Just when it’s looking like she might get killed for real this time, KIRISHIMA SHOWS UP TO SAVE THE DAY AND SHOVES HER TO SAFETY AND IS ALL “BOTTOMS UP” AND HEAVES A LITERAL CAN OF WHOOPASS RIGHT IN MACHIA’S MOUTH. At this point the grown-ups are all “oh wow look at that, time for us to take over for you kids now, don’t worry we’ve got it all under control” because Oh Those Wacky Pros and all that, but at least Majestic finally deigns to show his face so that’s a plus! The chapter ends with us cutting back to the Jakku battle, where Tomura is curled up in a little ball all “curse you heroes, how dare you [checks notes] save people all the time”, which is a real take and a half. Anyway so things are looking up, which can only mean everyone is about to die. That’s how it works, right. Shit.

HOLY SHIT LOL

THIS IS MINA. SHE’S REALLY COOL AND SHE CAN MELT PEOPLE. um, the hell kind of tagline is that?? holy fucking shit?? “melt and succumb”?? IS THE SUCCUMB PART REALLY NECESSARY. IS THAT NOT ALREADY IMPLIED. it’s like saying “die and then perish”, which actually sounds really badass and I’m about to make it my new go-to threat actually so you know what never mind. where the fuck were we anyway

“IS EVERYONE SAFE” some absurdly bad-at-gauging-situations kid from class B is yelling while the forest is on fire and all the kids are recovering from having been catapulted fifty miles by King Dodongo’s windy yeet breath. of course they are safe, sweet child. of course everyone is absolutely fine, why the fuck would they possibly not be safe after something like that

KAMINARI NOOO MY POOR SWEET BABY

AT LEAST HE’S STILL CONSCIOUS ENOUGH TO MAKE STUPID JOKES. holy shit this baby got concussed to hell and back and then Machia turned him and the others into precipitation and he wasn’t in any kind of state to even try to land safely, I hope to god someone caught him

Sero is all “is there anyone still in range!” and damn, I like that he’s taking charge and trying to regain their momentum. he is so criminally underrated. I feel like he’s in the top six or seven of class 1-A kids who I would most trust to take charge. which is very high praise because that class has a lot of charge-taking kids

SPEAKING OF

it “probably” can’t get through her acid, she says. my god. sometimes the spirit of Plus Ultra just takes ahold of these kids and it’s like, I want to ruffle their hair proudly and then grab them by the shoulders and shake them vigorously because WHERE EVEN IS YOUR SELF-PRESERVATION WHY DO NONE OF YOU HAVE IT GODDAMMIT AIZAWA REALLY SHOULD HAVE EXPELLED YOU GUYS AFTER ALL

man. and yet I really do love this “be the one who can do it” stuff. what a heroic fucking attitude dfjfklks. I’ll just go put on my humongous sandwich board that reads GIANT FUCKING HYPOCRITE and go stand in the corner

damn it this week’s scan is annoyingly dark, it’s really hard to tell what’s going on but it looks like the pros are attacking Machia and the League at long last. way to go guys it only took you seven years but you finally hopped to it

MINA WHY IS THE ACID COMING OFF OH MY GOD OH MY GOD OH MY GOD. PUT IT BACK!!!

I KNOW SHE’S NOT GONNA DIE DAMMIT BUT AHHHHH AHHHHHH AHHHHHHHH

okay what the hell is up with these weird zen proverbs though

“your fear stricken heart”, “the shortest path”, what the fuck even is this. whose thoughts are these. normally these translations are honestly decent enough but I gotta say this time around I’m totally being thrown for a loop lmao

(ETA: FYI I’m only just now realizing that he was saying the shortest path to Master, as in Tomura, not “master” as in to master something fjkldjskf lol some delayed reading comprehension there. so basically he’s just bitching about how annoying these little “flies” are proving to be.)

JESUS CHRIST

okay is it just me, or is Gigantomachia suddenly showing intelligence in his eyes instead of mindless animal instinct the single most pants-shitting thing you’ve ever seen?!! holy shit. the way he just LOOKS at her out of nowhere all of a sudden?? holy fucking shit DO NOT HURT MT. LADY OH MY GOD I’M FREAKING THE FUCK OUT. AND DON’T YOU DARE HURT MINA EITHER!! JUST FUCKING DIE AND PERISH

but also though, is that recognition in Mina’s eyes?? because even though this dude is 80 feet tall now, her encounter with him a couple years back had to have been one of the more memorable experiences of her young life. damn I was wondering when this would finally come into play

OKAY YES THE NEXT PAGE IS A FLASHBACK OH SHIT

this has nothing to do with anything but Mina just has the prettiest hair, btw, and this “just woke up covered in acid” look is a particularly good one on her. it looks so soft and fluffy, like damn. this is like Shouto-hair-billowing-in-the-wind levels of pretty here

NOOOOO

oh my god holy shit?! putting her back in the school uniform to show the slip in her mentality is a PUNK MOVE, HORIKOSHI, and I respect the shit out of you for it you manipulative bastard. goddammit. bracing myself for the incoming wave of Mina feels... here they come... they’re a lot... let’s see if I can latch on to anything I can actually figure out how to describe in words

okay well here’s one, my respect for Mina’s bravery just went up like a thousand percent in this instant, because now we know this was actually such a traumatizing event for her that hearing Machia’s voice again years later immediately sent her into a full-blown flashback. she was that scared and yet she still stood up to him and didn’t hesitate. and now I’m remembering how her knees just buckled right afterwards, and just...

and this visual, though!! what a brutally effective way to show that in her mind she went right back to being that scared middle schooler again for a moment. god fucking damn. holy shit you guys is Kirishima fireproof because if he comes waltzing out of the woods next I don’t even know what I’m gonna do. lolo kids getting traumatized left and right this arc is fucking merciless

um eXCUSE ME!?!?!

YOU MOTHERFUCKING PIECE OF SHIT LET GO OF HER RIGHT NOW OR I AM GONNA LOSE IT!!

THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT!!

holy shit he could have fucking snapped her neck like that??! I don’t like this at ALL WHAT THE FUCK

OKAY SERIOUSLY

I’M GONNA NEED ANOTHER KID TO STEP IN HERE WITH A LAST MINUTE SAVE LIKE RIGHT THE FUCK NOW, OR I AM GOING TO THROW MY COMPUTER OFF A FUCKING CLIFF AND MOVE TO THE DESERT AND BECOME A HERMIT AND NEVER READ MANGA ON THE INTERNET AGAIN

OH THANK GOD

TODAY WE SPELL “REDEMPTION” K-I-R-I... ETC. THERE’S A LOT OF LETTERS BUT YOU GET THE DRIFT!!!

holy fucking shit y’all. I mean, it’s not like it came out of nowhere, like the setup could not have been more obvious, but let me assure you that none of the predictability lessened the actual impact of this moment in the SLIGHTEST. Horikoshi really wrote a flashback scene one hundred and thirty five chapters ago and planted it, watered it once a day, and patiently waited for THREE LONG YEARS until he could finally harvest the badass fruits of his labor in the midst of his most epic arc to date. I’m so fucking hyped I’ll even forgive him for sacrificing Mina’s big moment and having her get rescued, because it’s such a good reversal. he didn’t freeze up this time. he promised himself he’d never freeze again and he didn’t and he saved her and god fucking damn. anyways so now Machia is going to treat him like a fucking action figure though but he’s a solid little dude he can take it hopefully

NO WHAT IS THIS!!! STOP KILLING MY MOOD!!!

she better not be dead!! SHE BETTER NOT FUCKING BE DEAD I WILL RUN MY PC THROUGH A PAPER SHREDDER AND GO AND LIVE ALONE WITH MY FEELS ON A MOUNTAIN IN TIBET

CHINTETSU!!

well we know he’s fireproof. another callback at the least expected of times lmao

so Tetsu’s all “yeah Kirishima’s not really all that fireproof but he totally ran over here anyway to save you. oh wait that probably wasn’t very comforting of me to say.” maybe that’s why it seems like he might not have actually said it out loud, now that I’m reading this over again. good call Tetsu

ARE YOU STANDING UP AND CASUALLY STRETCHING OUT YOUR BACK

I CAN’T EVEN BELIEVE HOW MUCH I HATE THIS GUY RIGHT NOW. WE’RE REACHING LEVELS OF HATRED RESERVED FOR NAZIS AND PEOPLE WHO WALK TOO SLOWLY IN FRONT OF ME IN A GROUP SHOULDER TO SHOULDER INSTEAD OF SINGLE FILE SO I CAN PASS IN FRONT OF THEM. YOU’RE A FUCKING TOURIST IN NYC YOU PIECE OF SHIT

lmao he’s just dropping this random hero person and letting him fall to his doom wheeeeee

remind me to leave all of the League of Villains’ texts on read for the foreseeable future. goddamn. I still love you guys but also, fuck you so damn hard

OHO A LIL RED SCALY BOI ISN’T DONE YET!!

real talk, just between you and me, I’ll lower my voice so that Kirishima can’t hear. so uh. we all agree that even if Kiri is fireproof and squishproof, that little can of tranquilizer juice technically shouldn’t have been, right? but we’re all going to hush and pretend like it was anyway for the sake of not spoiling his big moment. even though I am crossing my arms and tapping my chin with my finger while doubtfully glancing to the side

anyway here he goes!

YEAH KIRI GO GETTIM [stage whisper] there it is, in his pocket. should’ve burned. we won’t discuss it

OH FOR FUCK’S

TOGA YOU LITTLE WIENER BUT WHAT’S THIS ABOUT “MY HALF” NOW????

DID HE GRAB MINA’S MID-AIR?? IS HE REALLY REACHING INTO HIS BACK POCKET AND FUCKING UNZIPPING IT RIGHT NOW WHILE HOLDING ON TO NOTHING AND PRESUMABLY FALLING THROUGH THE AIR. DID A LITTLE BIT OF OCHAKO’S QUIRK RUB OFF ON YOU OR WHAT

OH SNAP SON HE REALLY DID THE THING HOLY SHIT???

AND TOKAGE FLEW OVER AND SAVED HIM AND NOW TANKS ARE SHOOTING AT MACHIA, LMAO WHAT IS THIS. MOMO HOW MANY GUNS DID YOU MAKE

Shouji standing there trying to be useful any way he can. are eyeballs really that much more effective if you make them the size of tennis balls and hold them up above your head. legit question, I don’t really know how eyes work

okay after 45 seconds of googling this my impression is that no, they are not. well good on you for giving it the old college try anyway though Shouji

oH MY GODLKDLK?!?!

DID SHE SAY WHAT I THOUGHT SHE SAID, DID SHE SAY MAJESTIC, ARE WE GONNA SEE MASJKESLTKCI DSFLKJL

oh my god he really is the Magic Man dude??? TIME TO DUST OFF MY INVENTORY OF ADVENTURE TIME QUOTES

(ETA: AHH FATGUM AND GANG ORCA ARE THERE TOO YESSSS!)

“that’s enough depending on some interns” oh, okay. now that they’ve done all your work for you. I see, I see

so now Gigantomachia is LITERALLY UNHINGING HIS JAW I can’t fucking believe this dude you guys. everything he does is just like, ARE YOU SERIOUS

please go to sleep already. thanks to you I have my keyboard set to capslock as the default for the duration of this chapter

ARE YOU SERIOUS YOU FUCKING WAITED UNTIL MAGIC FUCKING MAN SHOWED UP TO TEACH US MAGICAL LIFE LESSONS AND NOW YOU’RE CUTTING BACK TO THE TOMURA FIGHT?? WHY DO WE KEEP LETTING THIS MAN GET AWAY WITH THIS

oh my god you guys they really fucking did it

I guess that Howitzer slash fire punch combo really was that potent huh

anyway so now Endeavor is standing there making a big speech instead of reaching into Tomura’s pocket and taking the bullets that he doesn’t know about and shooting him with one asap. dammit Endeavor

aaaaand Tomura is firing back with the wisdom of Shimura Fucking Kotaro of all people

well you sure convinced me. damn I don’t know what I was thinking. heroes suck you guys. how dare they help other people all the time

so now he’s all “PERIOD, EXCLAMATION POINT!!”

take that Endeavor. you heard the man. it’s not destruction without conviction, as god as his witness he will have you know it is destruction WITH conviction. something something the great sage Shimura “I hurt my family for absolutely no reason at all, fuck this ‘helping others’ bullshit” Kotaro. I hope you packed your textbooks because you just got SCHOOLED. I hope the person who ordered you signed up for delivery notifications because you just got SENT. I HOPE YOU LIKE CAPITALISM BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT OWNED. I HOPE YOU CHOSE PAPER AND NOT SCISSORS BECAUSE YOU JUST GOT ROCKED

what an absolutely, unreservedly bizarre place to end the chapter lol. we’re really just done with this week, just like that. Majestic showed up and Gigantomachia opened his chin like a garage door and Tomura is all “you may have won the battle but you suck” while he buys time for Aizawa to suddenly sneeze or something so he can make his terrible comeback and continue Horikoshi’s Traumatize Every Kid in Class 1-A 2020 campaign. what an arc this is my friends. what an arc

[devendrasbeard]

Don’t Threaten Me With A Good Time

Prompt: Gwent / Games Relationships: Eskel/Yennefer of Vengerberg Rating: E Content Warnings: Switch Eskel, Casual Sex, Pegging, Explicit Sexual Content Summary:  Just two workmates playing Gwent after closing the bar for the night. Things get heated and escalate quickly once it turns out Yennefer is a way better player than Eskel, who loves this game more than anything. Also on ao3!

Another day at The Red Dragon came to an end. Yennefer closed up the last two customers and locked the bar's door after they've left. She poured herself a shot of tequila - a little reward to wait for her till she's done with counting the money and washing the countertops.

The rustling of boxes and clanking of metal barrels from the back room made her sigh and roll her eyes. Eskel appeared in the door, carrying one keg propped on his massive shoulder and rolling another one on the floor. Being over six feet four and with a physique of a bodybuilder, he was definitely a sight to behold, but the whole "look at how much stuff I can carry at once" gig was too much of a show off by Yennefer's standards.

"You're really gonna replace the kegs at 2am now? Leave that for tomorrow and help me with the tables."

"Triss says rolling the kegs kills her back, and I'm not working this weekend, so..." Eskel shrugged and duck under the counter to replace the barrel.

"Oh," Yen raised one eyebrow. "What are you up to that's more interesting than sitting in a pub full of drunk people on a Saturday night?"

"I'm only gonna tell you if you promise me not to laugh." He peeked at her from under the counter. "And don't tell Geralt."

That sparked some interest in Yen. It could be either something extremely dumb or something illegal. Or both. She stood above him with her arms crossed and gave him a questioning look. "I can promise not to tell the Wolf, but as for the other part... well..."

Eskel huffed, having replaced both kegs, and wiped his hands on the towel lying at the counter. "Fair enough. I'm taking part in a Gwent tournament."

"What is it with you guys and Gwent?" Yennefer groaned and moved to clean the tables.

"It's fun, plus you can win some good money there - it's part of this bigger fantasy con..."

"You're really taking part in that circle jerk for nerds?" Yen interrupted him and made a scrawny face. "Nothing more boring than sitting around, throwing some cards on the table and letting other nerds cream themselves over them. But whatever drives your fancy, I guess."

"You only say that cause you haven't played with me yet." Eskel smiled at her, that big scar across his cheek stretching a little.

Yennefer rolled her eyes again. "I am sure I would still hate it."

"I could show you some tricks, or explain some of the best strategies to you..." Eskel started, a spark of excitement already in his eye.

"Alright, alright, I'll play with you one day." Yen raised her hands. "Now just shut up and help me with the cleaning."

"We could play after we're done with work," Eskel wiggled his brows.

"Please tell me you do not carry your cards around with you," Yennefer made a wry face.

Eskel grabbed his backpack and dangled it on one finger in front of Yen's eyes. "I actually do."

Yennefer groaned and moved to place the chair's on the tables, making space for Eskel to start mopping the floors. "Fine," she let out a resigned huff. "I'll play with you after we're done, just... Stop talking for now."

*****

The bar was clean and ready for Triss and Yen to open the next day, so they moved to the office in the back room. It was a pretty spacious place, with two desks, where Geralt, Eskel's brother and their boss at the same time, kept all their paperwork, invoices and such. At the far wall they have made a little social space for the employees - they brought in a comfortable couch to sit at, a round wooden table with three chairs and a small cabinet with a mini fridge and a microwave.

Eskel pushed a stray strand of dark hair from his forehead and rummaged around his backpack. He pulled out three different decks of Gwent cards, making Yennefer snort at the sight of it.

"Never thought you'd be such a nerd." She stuck her tongue out in a mocking gesture, but Eskel let it slide, his head already focused on the game.

"Okay, so you can pick your faction from these cards - I have Nilfgaard, monsters..."

"Just gimme any and let's be done with this!" Yennefer snatched the deck out of his hand and sat at the table.

Eskel sat across from her. He went through his cards with a very serious look on his face and then looked up at Yennefer. He raised his eyebrows with a playful smile. "Hey, do you want to spice it up? Like, play Strip Gwent?"

He was ready to hear a mocking comment or being straight up laughed at, but no, Yennefer leaned back in her chair and took in the sight of him. There was a spark in her eyes that made Eskel feel very naked and very small. She propped her hands on her knees, sitting up wide and grinned.

"So, here are the rules." She moved straight to business, like always, and Eskel was so ready to play. "Whoever loses a round, takes a piece of clothing off. Jewelry, piercings don't count. Pair of shoes, pair of socks - it all counts as one item. Deal?"

"Let's play." Eskel grinned and took an eyeful of her. His eyes moved down from her face to that tight T-Shirt with the bar's logo, now covered with a light leather jacket, and down to the ripped jeans. This was going to be an easy win and he was up for a delicious prize.

*****

Forty-five minutes later they were still sitting at the table, Eskel sporting only his boxer shorts and shoes, while Yennefer took just her leather jacket off. She was grinning like a mad witch and purposely fixing her eyes on Eskel's pecs.

"I don't understand." He huffed. "You said you didn't know how to play."

"Society would've been so advanced already, if only men listened carefully to women." Yennefer sighed, not without a hint of satisfaction in her voice. "I never said I didn't know how to play, I said I hated the game. And now I really hope you'll put up a show for me, taking those boxers off." She smiled playfully, placing her last card on the table.

"Fuck, lost by two points!" Eskel hid his face in his hands, only to look up at her a moment later, a menacing grin on his face. "But, well played, here's your prize then."

He circled the table, his pace calm but steady. With a swift move of his strong arms, he turned Yennefer's chair away from the table and stood between her wide spread legs, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers. She looked at him, her bottom lip trapped between her teeth, not even trying to fake disinterest anymore. Her lilac eyes were on fire and taking in every little detail of Eskel's physique being proudly presented in front of her.

She licked her lips as her gaze wandered from his face and down across his broad heavy chest, adorned with thick dark hair. He had two swallows tattooed right under his collarbones and also sported a nipple ring, that Yennefer was immediately drawn to. His abs were a marvel, like chiseled in stone, his hip bones sporting another tattoo - this time of a poison ivy. A patch of thick black hair was poking out of his boxers, and she could already see the outline of his dick perfectly. Yennefer was more than ready to start another game.

"You've still got your shoes on... So if you want to back out of it, here's your last chance." Yennefer said firmly, at the same time looking Eskel deep in the eyes and dragging a finger along the seam of his boxers.

Eskel swallowed audibly, feeling a shiver down his spine and the familiar heat coiling in his groin. He let out a heavy breath and launched himself at Yen, slotting their lips in a heated kiss. He felt her hands on his ass, slowly sneaking beneath the fabric to take a handful of his flesh. In a swift move she slid his boxers off and broke the kiss off for a moment to gaze down at his already hardened cock. "I'm starting to think you've had all of this planned out," she smiled, licking her lips. "But since you have this in store for me, I don't really mind."

Yennefer wasn't small, but Eskel still had to bend over to kiss her, so he lifted her up and made her wrap her legs around his waist. Her sweet breath in his mouth was already driving him crazy and he moved a few steps forward, laying her down on the table where they played just a few moments before.

She broke the kiss off almost immediately, placing a hand on his chest and pushing him away playfully. "If anyone's gonna be splayed on that table, it's gonna be you, big boy."

That sent a jolt of arousal straight down to Eskel's cock. He hasn't slept with a woman in quite a long time, being mostly interested in dudes, so the perspective of being bossed around by Yen made him shiver with anticipation. He locked a finger under her chin, pulling her up for another deep kiss, and then he bend over on the little table. "Go on, take me then."

*****

Eskel was on the couch on all fours, his head hanging low between his shoulders, heated gasps of pleasure escaping his pressed lips. Beads of sweat were forming along his spine, running up his back and wetting his already damp dark hair. Yennefer was sat comfortably behind him, still in her clothes, two fingers hooked inside his hole, her long fingernails grazing against his prostate. Every move of her lanky digits made Eskel moan and whine and throw his head up. His cock was painfully hard and leaking, but every time he reached for it, Yen swatted his hand away.

"Do you want me to take you apart, baby?" She cooed right into his ear, one hand massaging the small of his back, the other still hooked inside him. Eskel only nodded fervently and let out a long moan. Yennefer clicked her tongue. "Needy."

She reached for her bag and took out a simple but beautifully crafted metal dildo and weighed it in her hand long enough for Eskel to notice it. It was mirror polished, slightly curved like a bow, with perfectly round balls on both ends. Eskel swallowed hard, his voice coarse, "You carry that stuff around in your purse?"

"You never know when unexpected pleasure strikes," Yennefer laughed a pearly laugh. "And it gives my purse a mean swing when I need to knock a bastard down."

"You are an incredible woman," Eskel looked at her from behind his shoulder. "Now would you please stick it in me?"

The weight and pressure of the dildo was just perfect, hitting all the right spots inside Eskel. He tried rocking back and forth a little, along with Yennefer's movements, and it send waves of pleasure down his spine and right to his cock whenever the heavy round ball grazed against his prostate. His cock was already leaking a constant thin streak of precome and he was aching for a sweet release.

"Yen, I really need to come," he breathed, his flushed face pressed into the fabric of the sofa.

"Not till I got my pleasure," Yennefer mused and stood up, taking the dildo out. "C'mon, sit up."

She got rid of her T-shirt and jeans quickly, revealing a matching set of underwear, that was, surprisingly for Eskel, in a baby pink shade. Both the bra and panties had an intricate pattern of criss crossed satin straps, making the pieces look more like armor than underwear. Eskel swallowed thickly and ran a hand along Yen's features, caressing her side, hooking one playful finger at the seam of her panties. He looked up at her, his brown eyes meeting her lilac gaze, both equally dark with lust, and she shook her head, tipping his head up by the chin.

"I'm not stripping today," she said flatly and climbed over him, standing above his face, tangling her fingers in his hair. "You can get a taste, though."

Eskel gave her a little lick over the thin lace and satin fabric and could already taste her wetness. A little whimper left her lips and she propped her arm on the wall, her other hand grabbing Eskel's hair more firmly. He pressed kisses to her inner thighs and then again to her wet cunt, holding her by her firm buttocks, so she wouldn't fall over.

Eskel was good with his mouth. All his previous lovers could confirm that and Yennefer was no different. It took him only a few minutes to have her writhing above his head, her thighs shaking, her hand tangled painfully in his hair, as his tongue darted in and out of her sweet heat. She tasted like gooseberries and candy and Eskel found himself a bit addicted to the taste. But he couldn't wait to feel that welcoming heat around his dick, so he dared to make a move, grabbing Yennefer firmly by the hips and lowering her down, so she was sat in his lap.

She kissed him, a hard feverish kiss, her eyes on fire and her cheeks flushed a gorgeous deep pink. And then she just moved her panties to the side and slid down on his cock. The sensation of her tight slick cunt taking him in fully send Eskel very close to the edge. He threw his head back with a groan, only to jolt forward in the next moment and bury his face between Yen's breasts.

She moved up and down at a steady pace, her gaze focused on Eskel, both hands tangled in his hair. Eskel put his arms around her and started fumbling with the clasps of her bra, only to be swatted away.

"What, you won't even show me your tits?" He asked, with only a bit of disappointment in his voice.

"Nope." Yennefer's tone was firm, although her voice was already strained, interrupted with breathy huffs. "I won the game, so now we play by my rules."

In response, Eskel bucked his hips up to draw an especially long and needy moan out of her. Yen propped her forehead on his chest, breathing heavily.

"I'm tired, you move now."

He didn't need anymore prompting - Eskel just stood up, holding her thighs in a firm grip, driving into her with all the energy he had. Yennefer grabbed onto his shoulders, her long fingernails digging painfully into his flesh, and she pressed their faces together to steal one more heated kiss from him.

Eskel moved faster, each thrust of his hips hitting a sweet spot inside Yennefer's cunt, making her moan and wail like a little cat. He looked at her face - the cold and indifferent facade was long gone, replaced by watery, pleading eyes, flushed cheeks and wet lips parted in a very obscene way - and it send him over the edge.

His orgasm hit him like a wave, making him grasp at Yen's thighs even harder, drawing a hiss out of her mouth and making her bite his lip. Her quivering thighs and her pussy clenching so hard on his dick were signs Yen was very close too, so despite his tiredness and fuzzy feeling in his bones, he drove into her a few more times, causing her to make the most beautiful crying sound Eskel has ever heard.

After they dropped back onto the couch, Yennefer patted his thigh lightly, brushed her tangled hair off her face, sighed. "I still hate Gwent."

Eskel laughed. "And I still need you to not tell Geralt about any of this."

----

@witcher-rarepair-summer-bingo