#its starting to get more fun as i adjust to the learning curve

[cinnamnt]

i miss snake eater i know i whined about it feeling like i was just tromping in the woods forever and ever but i kinda started loving tromping around in the woods when i was playing today

[aughtpunk]

just checking in to see if ur ok! en passant usually updates monthlyish and it hasnt in a bit so was just wondering! sry if thats rude i just rlly love ur work and since ur normally active with posts and comments and stuff i j wanted to check in that things r ok (hope life stuff is good! thats ofc most important)

I lightly touched on this but I might as well get it all down for those worried about my lack of updates.

In short, I've started taking Ozempic for diabetes/weight issues and HOLY SHIT HAS THIS PAST MONTH SUCKED ADJUSTING. Like the doctors and nurses were all "you'll have some stomach issues at first" but that did not prepare me for the month I just had.

See, at least with me Ozempic has had this fun thing where I need to eat the exact right amount of food at the exact right time or else I get horrific stomach cramping and nausea. So this past month has been a long game of guessing what to eat, how much, and when.

First I've had to switch to a protein-heavy diet and that sucks because now my food budget has spiked and I'm still trying to balance the books to make this affordable (donations are appreciated). Second, the amount of food I can eat varies wildly with each type of food. So it's not like "oh I have to eat 8oz of food each meal" because that would be too easy. If I eat too much of one type of food the stomach cramps act up again, so its' been a fun learning curve. And third, I have to eat every 2-3 hours or else SURPRISE more stomach cramping.

So basically I've spent the past month completely changing what I eat, how much I eat, and when to eat by complete guesswork. Which meant a lot of time I would usually spend writing was instead spent curled up in bed hugging my aching stomach because I accidentally ate one bite of food too many or waited too long between meals.

Now, finally, a month later I've gotten a grasp of what the fuck I can eat and how much and when to the point where I've started doing other things again like writing and my hobbies and various clubs. I'm about halfway through the next chapter of En Passant (it's an important one, so I'm taking my time) so don't you worry about that!

In short: medication make tummy go ouch

[hojetsala]

The bike that rides on the Internet

- my review of the Zwift Ride -

The days get shorter, the weather wetter and colder and every day it becomes more and more of a struggle to get up at the asscrack of dawn just so I can ride my bike to work for a commute of roughly 50k both ways. A thing I usually love doing. A thing I need to be doing to get my cracked marble of a brain to cooperate with me. But now, as they say, I have bike at home. This has been my experience with the bike that now lives in my home.

I went back and forth on wether to get a home trainer quite a bit. I dont have a bike for it, its expensive, I dont have the space, I dont know what to do with it when its summer again, I worry it will make me too lazy to ride outside.

Well, some of those problems I still have.

But it took very little persuasion by friends ("You could get it if you want it") for me to take the plunge on both the trainer and the bike for it. I got the Kicker Core and the Zwift Ride and I have been having a time ever since. Mostly a good time.

Recieving the thing was a bit of a war. It comes in several boxes, two of which weigh over 25 kg and I live on the fourth floor. Alone. Not the Ride's fault I suppose. I did eventually get it up the stairs and set up, where I hit the first real snag.

The chainring was bent. Which I only noticed once I started pedalling and the chain kept dropping off. Searching around online I gathered I could probably return the thing and get a new one, but. 25kg. Fourth floor. Alone. Not to mention the packaging is so complex and huge I dunno how I'd ever get it put back together.

I still tried contacting support about it, which was the next snag. They have an "AI" chatbot with a few rote answers and thats it. No phone number. I wrote an email to support@zwift.com and have yet to hear back. Judging by the forums, this is a common problem. If something goes wrong, you are on your own. That and the lack of quality control (the chainring was definitely not damaged in transit) are the major downsides I found.

Now to the upsides. The online community is really good. I immediately found posts and videos detailing how I could swap out the chainring myself (and find the correct one). It was easy and I learned some new things about bike anatomy. And I felt great about myself. I booked it as a win.

Then I set it up. This was straightforward enough. Bikefitting a bit less so. It comes with a table for your height with suggestions on how to set everything up, but this seems kinda off. Or maybe I just have weird proportions. I am still fiddling with it. But thats ok. Adjusting the height of the stem and the seatpost is fairly easy. Adjusting the reach of the handle bars I find more difficult as they tend to get stuck a bit. But I am managing.

And then I was off!

The Ride itself is remarkably stable and solid. I am quite a heavy person, especially for a cyclist, and never do I feel wobbly or unsafe. This thing is pretty damn bombproof. It's also quite comfortable and the saddle is good for me. I got some clipless pedals for it and that feels great. Very secure, even when I go all out.

For me personally, who has never ridden a home trainer or even a road bike before, there was a definite learning curve. I got a bit of motion sickness at the start from being stationary and looking at the game, but that has cleared up when I pushed through it. I can now go further every time I ride. I feel like I am getting more comfortable in the position. Admittedly, the position is as relaxed as I can make it. I might make it more aggressive as I get stronger on it.

Zwift itself is fun. It's nice to look at if you like the graphics and there is a good variety to the maps. And there are dinosaurs to find. :) I am really getting into the workouts. They are fun, easy to follow, and tough as nails (at least for me). Its also nice to always have other people around! But Zwift definitely reminds you that comparison is the thief of joy. Damn these people are strong its not even funny.

I thought I was comparatively good on the bike, I rode a lot outside this year. Indoor riding is hard. Hard hard. For some reason, on the indoor trainer, I dont coast. Not that you can't, I find that I just don't. I pretty much go full gas, all the time. And no matter how fast you think you are going, other zwifters will blast past you like you are standing still.

When Zwift tells you to "close the gap", don't. It is a trap. There will always be another gap.

But they are quite encouraging too.

Before I got it, I was definitely worried that I wouldnt use the Ride enough to justify the cost. This has not been the case. I find I really look forward to going zwifting and I do it when I can. I am having a great time overall, even if the effort often leaves me pretty wiped out and I might have to watch out not to overdo it. What do you mean I cant do sprint workouts every day of every week? lol.

So for me, it was definitely a good investment, despite the snags. I am having a good time, I now use my daily "Youtube and Podcast" time a lot better, I get to keep riding through the winter. The cost is significant and should definitely give people pause. But I feel like it's not too much for what it is and I am definitely very happy with it.

I still don't know where I will store the damn thing in the summer though.

Cons of the Ride

non existant support by Zwift

very questionable quality control

the adjustable bits can sometimes get a bit stuck

Pros of the Ride

good online community.

very solid and stable

Quite comfortable, and saddle/ pedals can be easily swapped out

Widely customizable to your proportions

Looks snazzy if you like that kind of thing

Cons of Zwift

Graphics are a matter of taste, objectively not the highest quality

The gamification is rather minimal. Pretty much only leveling and occasionally buying new bike bits and cosmetics. Again, taste

Pros of Zwift

Very active community with events going on all the time

good, fun workouts of many different levels

training plans of different levels too

interesting routes with varied scenery

dinosaurs :)

[rewordthis]

Class Saturday Night tonight and the exercises are double for those who feel ready. 🤩

Ok, so the previous class was cancelled because of rl reasons but today I bring you still life as an extra, for compensation.

But first things first. My personal favourite exercise for drawing is the line of vision one. Both other exercises build up to this one and now you’re going to learn how the mechanics work.

Find a can, like a canned tomato one or something. Preferably a closed one. 😬

It doesn’t need to be stripped off, if the scheme and colours are too confusing you can cover it with a blank piece of paper or you know… strip it. 😗

This tin is going to be drawn from 3 different angles:

One: put the can on a surface from where you’re allowed to see its whole front from top to bottom but you can’t see the underside or the top of it and it’s not curved. ➡️ This is your eye level. Anything in this height is viewed in-form and one-dimensional. The main information you get of the object is the height and width ratio.

Two: put the can on a surface from which you can see its whole front from top to bottom and the top of it. The top and bottom will appear curved. ⬇️ This is your under eye level. Anything in this height is viewed slightly transformed in a way where you get more information about the shape, width and depth of an object. The height of the object is downsized.

Three: put the can on a surface from where you’re not allowed to see its whole front from top to bottom (this doesn’t apply if you place it on a glass surface, though!). The top will appear curved. ⬆️ This is your above eye level. Anything in this height is also viewed transformed in a way where you get a false height information, ie: the object appears way more tall than it actually is. From this angle you also don’t get information about the top because it is hidden and the bottom because it is also hidden by the surface it stands on (again, this doesn’t apply if it’s on a glass surface! In this case you see the underside of the object like in the under eye level but the height here is oversized.)

These 3 viewpoints are how we perceive the 3D in general. Along with depth and volume, we get real-life information about our environment and it’s how we also get an instinctual understanding of what is smaller or bigger than ourselves, hence whether it presents a threat or not.

Now, for our extra, I would like to introduce still life to the class. For the setup we will need a bottle (preferably a wine bottle because it has less curves, but beer would also do I guess), a funnel (you know, like those with which you fill oil kitchen bottles?) and a fruit (like my ‘beloved’ orange or an apple. I’m not sure bananas would work the same. Also, if you happen to have grapes, this would look so pretty?! 🥰 but rip your hand, though… oops.) Arrangement for this one is free.

Let the objects blend and overlap; the lines and shades should give a nice recap for what you learned so far. Try to observe and reprint what you see on your paper. By observation, your mind will start to categorise and reprint shapes and volumes naturally, especially if they blend in like this. This will only improve over time and practise so keep it up.

The way you work with your pencil will also adjust to your own personal way of drawing, as you try new things and ways to achieve better control over it. The key is to always try and have a close reproduction to what you see. It’s something you can confirm yourself and that’s also why it’s important to start drawing from life.

BTW, this is an extra exercise and it’s going to blend with the next class one. So don’t feel too overwhelmed about doing it, ok?

What’s important, is to understand how eye-level measurements work. Take your time with this class’s exercise and try to understand how and why it works like it does. The synthesis is more about learning through fun than anything, so only start with it after you’ve finished the three single-object exercises. 🤗

That’s all for today’s class, folks! If you have any progress pics I’d love to see them, so feel free to mention my blog name in a post or send me your pics. Anonymous is fine, too!

Have a nice time drawing! ✨

[hemihr12005]

fundies (software) homework task

brief:

plan and draw simple objects of your choosing

apply colour to objects and change the thickness of the stroke

use the gradient palettes and gizmo

use the pathfinder tool to create objects from two or more objects

use 'paste in place'

use the layers palette to organise things in front and back 

requirements:

look on moodle tutiorals for help: here

planning:

thought of shapes i could use hybrid curves/broken points on, thought of palm trees.

I wanted to keep it simple, so the backround is a simple block (or maybe gradient) colour sky, sea and sand. The tree branches I decided on design 3 (earlier planning) cause it's easy but I'll do some freehand shading with the pen and opacity and maybe some free hand lines with pen for details. I wanted to include coconuts so I could freehand some circles (more like elipses). I might add more details to the leafs with broken points and hybrid curves. I think the hammock will be the hardest so will only do it if I have time. I want to add some shadow to the ground as well, to give the illustration more depth. I might use something like paste and rotate for this.

i started with creating a layer 1 - which was my background. I used gradient to create the ocean. For the sky i picked one colour and freehanded pen shapes and used swatches to keep the same colour and make it lighter. for the sand i used freehand pen and just make the shape I wanted that looked like sand. I ended up adding a white strip to look like the white water I waves. So the waves looked like it was coming onto the shore. I did this with freehand pen again. Layer 2 was called "tree" in which I created the tree branch and leaves of the palm tree. I freehanded the tree trunks using lots of better curves. I then added a gradient to the tree and changed the angle so it would align to the tree. i went from dark brown to light brown to add a shadow and colour variation. I used hybrid curves and broken points to make the leaves. I also used the "pen +" tool to add points if I needed more. I used / tool a lot when making my leaves beacsue the lines kept having fills. I probably could have used shift c as well to swtich curves to corners, but i sort of forgot some of the tools we learned when i was making the illistration. When i finished all my leaves I ended up grouping all the origanal leave parts together so each leaf had its own group, but when I went to use fill to colour it in the fill want working and I realised I had to ungroup everything and have the middle lines on top in adjust object order. I origanally made the coconuts on this tree layer too, but when I tried to add shadows on a new layer the rest to the trees, the coconuts kept getting in the way, so I ended up giving the coconuts their own layer. For shadows I wanted more shadow on the tree so I did what we did for the penguin task and just freehanded a shadow with pen tool and lowered the opacity to 26%. I tried to make the shadows look realistic on the tree without going overboard. I tried to add some shadow to the coconuts too but i made the back ones darker originally so it didn't need too much shading. I didn't really add that many highlights which could have made it better. Maybe that's a good step for next project. I then used option shift to make copy of the entire trees and rotated them + changed fill to create shadows along the sand. I used the swatch colour tool to make the shadow colour a shade darker than the origanal sand colour.

Thursday morning due date now

I rotated the shadow on the left tree beacsue the shadow was on to much of an angle and looked unnatural. I found and removed a random line on horizon. Then I decided to add a fallen coconut on the sand and gave it some shadow.

Had fun with this especially since I haven't really used illistator before and it's fun to learn new things. Could have been better and used some better tools but I thinks it's a good first attempt.

[alicentive]

hi ☺️👋 love chu💕 ❤️ I'm really new to gif making too for my favorite shows so I hoped to ask how you make the backgrounds look so smooth in your gifs?I'd appreciate any advice, it's just for practice. thank you if you answer in advance ❤️💕

Hello hello, and big love right back at ya! 💕😊

How exciting that you’re new to gifmaking – it’s so much fun to get to experiment with that and try all sorts of things. I learned a lot from following tutorials or talking with other gifmakers back when I first started out, and I’m definitely still learning new things now.

I think it’s a combination of factors that makes the background in my gifs so smooth? So I’m going to talk about some of those factors and show you a few things and hopefully that’ll help! I use Photoshop CS6 for gifmaking, but I think the majority of this advice also holds up in other versions haha.

First off, I always try to use video files of the 1080p variety. You can gif with videos that have 720p, too, but 1080p will provide a smoother and clearer image because there are more pixels in 1080p. (There’s also 2160p, which is even higher resolution, but I’ve personally found that unwieldy to screencap and 1080p looks very good already!) This is the technical reason why the gifs look smooth: work with a high resolution video and get better results, that’s just how it is.

Another technical thing is the type of scene you pick to gif. When the scene is very busy with a lot of people and objects coming into focus at once (group shots, shots in heavily decorated rooms, etc), there’s very little in the scene that actually fades into the background focus-wise. With close-ups of a single face, the focus is entirely on the face and the background will fade to some degree. This really has to do with how the show’s made, like how the director and camera people and everyone else chose to portray/film the scenes. As a gifmaker, you can always choose to crop some things out of the scene when you want the focus to be on a specific thing – you’re essentially choosing a new focus for the viewer in that case. But yeah, overall, the way it’s filmed affects everything else about the gif.

Now, onward to the actual Photoshop things…

When I gif, I also sharpen the gif itself. This will make some details pop more and help move the focus to where I want it to be most, which is usually either a face or something important happening in the scene. I do think it might affect how you see the background as well – when everything in the foreground is sharpened, the background will naturally have a bit of blurriness to it. I have a sharpening action I use for every gif, but I believe its settings are as follows.

This is Filter -> Smart Sharpen by the way.

First Smart Sharpen:

And the second Smart Sharpen (yes we do it twice!):

Most importantly, I think the way you choose to brighten and color the gif will affect how the background will look. A show like House of the Dragon unfortunately can be very dark, so the urge to brighten it and fix the filters they put on these scenes is immense. 😂 But it’s also really easy to brighten it too much with that urge to see what’s going on, lol, and that’s when the background’s going to look grainy or pixelated! So it’s always a fine balancing act and a lot of trial and error (seriously, the undo-button is my best friend) when working with scenes like these.

There are a few ways you can brighten a gif. My preferred method is with the Curves layer, but I also use Exposure and Gradient Map as additions to that sometimes. Mostly when a scene is so dark that I have to take care not to render it too pixelated by adjusting the Curves, really. When a gif gets too tricky, I use all three. 😂 Below are some basics of each layer, but it’s really about trying and clicking and trying and clicking and trying and… you get the picture, lol.

Curves

The little eye dropper tools I marked with white – grey – black in the picture below are the most important. Select the white eye dropper and click on the section of the gif that’s closest to white (but not fully white). Then, select the grey eye dropper and click on the gif section that’s either beige or grey or at least in that neutral color zone. Finally, select the black eye dropper tool and click on the darkest part of your gif. You should see immediate results, but it tends to take me a few tries to get the best version! It’s not uncommon for me to zoom in on an image to, like, 600% just to see which pixels I should be clicking. This takes patience, haha!

Exposure

Use it sparingly, cos it’s going to be an asshole about how bright it makes some things. My settings typically are:

Exposure: between 0,13 and 0,22 (this brightens certain areas)

Offset: -0,0009 or -0,0019 (please don't forget to add the - to the numbers, this will deepen the black areas a bit)

Gamma Correction: 1,04 (I’ve found it ‘marries’ the light and dark parts a tad more and makes it look more natural)

Gradient Map

Gradient map my beloveddd. It doesn’t always do the thing, but sometimes it really helps me add a bit of color correction or helps me lighten a certain part of a scene a bit more. Be careful with it, though, as using it too much might make the gif a bit grainy/pixelated (and we don’t want that). There are a few different ways you can use it, but my favorite way is the only good thing TikTok ever taught me (I’m old as dirt, y’all) and that’s this in a nutshell…

Add the layer and click on the gradient itself.

Now, this is going to make the gif look scary as heck but bear with me? Select Noise, uncheck Restrict Colors. Click OK. Don’t cry.

Go to the Opacity of your Gradient Map layer and set it to a percentage between 2% and 5%. Dry your tears.

If it’s not to your taste, go back into the gradient map itself by clicking on it again and selecting the nifty Randomize button you see on the screencap. Click and click and click until you find something that makes the gif sing.

Soooo. Very long story short, all of the above is going to contribute to how a gif looks and to how smooth the background is. I hope some of it is helpful to you! 💕 (And if anything’s unclear, please ask!! I know I get a little wordy and technical about some of the giffing sometimes, haha.)

[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.

[fishstyx]

curious.

featuring. mahito x fem!reader

wc. 1.5k

genre. smut, dark/taboo

tw. 18+ nsfw, noncon, stalking, somnophilia, alcohol, thigh fucking, penetration, size kink, stomach bulge

synopsis. there’s just one thing mahito has yet to learn about human anatomy... and when you hobble out of a bar at daybreak, you’re about as good as volunteering your body.

What a poor, lost little thing you are, trudging through the back alleyways of Tokyo with little to go on under the twinkling twilight. You stumble around in the darkness as if trying to outrun the first rays of sunlight, fingers fumbling to find purchase on the sides of buildings unfamiliar to you. You must’ve been drinking all night long to require wall support to keep you upright now, hiccuping as you drag your hands along the concrete. Truly the lowest of the low, a runt in a world teeming with lesser beings. Human swine would do well to know their limits, but apparently you don’t.

And what an easy target you make; a little too easy, even. You wouldn’t have a clue what was happening if Mahito cornered you now, idle transfiguration descending upon you with a single touch of the hand. 

But what a waste that would be, disfiguring a remarkable specimen like you, so utterly out of it that you can’t even tell that he’s right behind you—so dangerously close that he’s practically breathing down your neck as you make your way home.

Sure, Mahito has his pick of the city’s stragglers at all times of the day, but what suddenly draws him to you lies in how disheveled you look, the little bit of makeup you have on smeared across your face, that low cut shirt of yours riding even lower than it was made to.

Not to mention that he’s absolutely dying to get more acquainted with human “anatomy”—but he hates how his victims squirm and squeal when he takes his time, as if they have any chance of actually escaping him. It’s an insult, really, so he figures he’ll go after someone on the more... susceptible side. Someone who’s not only wandering around alone, but also on the brink of collapse, unable to call for help. Someone who makes no attempt to fight back, someone who will let him have his way with them, someone who doesn’t mind the intrusion simply because there is no alternative.

Someone exactly like you.

You’re making this way too simple, not a single look behind you as you stagger your way home. You even have the courtesy to leave the front door of your house ajar, the stupid little thing that you are, not an ounce of energy left to spare as you pass out into the bed.

He’s on top of you immediately, ripping your clothes off to ogle their contained contents. So this is the female body, he thinks, half mesmerized, half disgusted by the way your taut tits spill out from underneath your already revealing shirt. He studies every inch of your exposed skin carefully before rolling your sensitive nubs between his fingers, finding that they stiffen on command. Even when you’re out cold you react to his touch; he was right not to kill you immediately. 

His personal playground, exactly the way he wanted it.

Proportions aside, he finds that there are few differences between his male body and your own. But there’s something that piqued his interest at a movie showing once and he wants it to try for himself today. He palms at his erection, intrigued by his natural reaction to the sight of you all sprawled out. Is there really something so special about it? He can’t say he sees the appeal, but apparently his body can, his bulge pressing harder against the cloth the longer he looks at you.

His pants come undone when he feels his damp excitement through the fabric, glint of his precum illuminated by the kiss of the rising sun, satisfying heaviness of his dick bared to the ticklish air. He marvels at the way his hand fits perfectly around his length, fisting it as he stares at the rise and fall of your chest. This is the part that he didn’t get to see on screen, the part where he ruts against your lower half with his own.

It’s not like he knows what he’s doing yet, bucking his hips into the first thing he can fit his dick into: the space between your thighs. Mahito squeezes them together and slips his shaft between the plushy flesh, reveling in the chills that run up his stomach. It’s a nice visual, the way his cock disappears for a moment before resurfacing atop of your barren legs, and an even nicer sensation. But it doesn’t quite feel half as good as he thought it would be. His mind races with the flickering images of o-shaped mouths and curled up fingers. Humans are so… dramatic, he thinks to himself, pulling his meat out of the cushy canal of his creation.

But then his eyes wander to your silken panties, the one place he hasn’t ventured yet; how annoying that humans wear more clothes under their clothes. He laughs to himself when he pushes them aside to reveal a wet, pulsating mound. Now that’s more like it. A finger inches inside you, followed by another, as he tries to determine if it’s a good fit or not.

Well, he won’t know until he tries.

Burying himself inside your leaking cunt, he gasps at the way you hug him flawlessly. It’s warmer, so much warmer than your thighs, and suddenly it feels like he’s alive for the first time in his life. Your breathing changes as he starts to move, pushing your ragdoll figure into the mattress. Tingly pleasure envelops him entirely when little whimpers and moans begin to tumble from your lips.

Mahito bends over to meet your mouth, taste of hard liquor encircling his tongue as he forces it inside, exploring your wetness in its entirety. You share a soft groan when he adjusts his angle, hilt of his cock pushing against a spot so spongy and so textured that his sensitive head shivers in pleasure.

Fistfuls of flesh gathered in his hands, he continues to move by instinct, chasing after the milky cream that foams around the base of his cock. The slip and slide motion of each and every stroke seems to register even while you sleep, your hips rocking ever so slightly into his own, mouth moving open and shut but never quite overflowing with distinguishable words.

The lewd noises of your dripping pussy fill the room, second only to the clapping of skin on skin as his tender balls pound against you. Reckless abandon takes over and the snapping movement is driven by so much force that you begin to stir, eyes twitching.

But you’re not awake yet—responsive, but otherwise subdued. He knows because the things that spill from your lips next can only come from a person who can’t even tell that they’re being raped.

“It feels… so…” you whisper, and he pauses for a moment to listen to what you have to say.

“Feels so… full…”

He throbs at the words, instantly feeling himself grow harder, deciding that it’s time to try out one of his little “experiments.”

“Feels full, huh?” he says into the curve of your neck, crooked smile dancing on his lips. “Good thing I can make you feel even fuller.”

Reshaping himself is almost second nature at this point. Mahito stretches you out with the deft fattening of his cock, your walls drawing taut around him in turn. Snug, you become impossibly snug around him as you throw your head back, convulsing from the pressure. It’s an inhuman size, so monstrous that when he pistons his pelvis forward, he finds it substantially harder to bottom out.

The clear outline of his cock stares him in the face now, a delicious belly bulge shifting up and down with every slam. You struggle to catch your breath, the stimulation forcing you to release your hot, sticky fluids. Entire body shaking, you keen your satisfaction, stilling only when his thrusts run shallow.

A jittery feeling takes the human curse over, the buildup of all the sweet sensations bubbling over and bursting from his fully stimulated cockhead. He pulls it out to get a better look and ends up squirting all over you, shooting his seed onto your thighs and teats. How delightful, he thinks to himself, overjoyed by how it glistens in the full heat of the sun. The perfect present for you to wake up to.

It’s quiet now, only a soft pant—yours—audible in the spring of day. 

He ponders his options. You could take hours to come to your senses. But as much as he’d love to take off now, to leave you in total confusion and bewilderment, his desire to see the absolute horror cross your face as you take in the spatters of dried-up cum is even stronger. And eventually, he gets just that.

You don’t disappoint, bleary eyes fluttering open in your half-conscious state, locking with the curse crouched beside you, then darting wildly from the mess he’s made to the stitches on his face. How fortunate, or rather unfortunate; you were born with enough latent talent to be able to perceive him. You’d scream, but he’s already ahead of you, covering your mouth before you can produce a single squeal.

“Morning, dollface.” Tears prickle your eyes as you look on in fright, too afraid to move a muscle.

“I had a lot of fun in bed, didn’t you?”

fishstyx © 2021 ✸ all content and their rights belong to me. do not repost, reproduce, or modify anywhere.

[disasterofastory]

Married to Vikings Part 3 (Ubbe x Reader x Torvi)

Married to Vikings Part 3 Ubbe x Reader x Torvi Warnings: none

Y/N spends time with Torvi and Ubbe.

The gif is not mine.

Your life in Kattegat starts with shopping. Torvi comes with you to the market.  You need warmer clothes than you brought with you. She speaks with the traders and helps you with the seamstress. You focus on their words while Torvi assists when you forget something, or you say them wrong. You enjoy your day together. The Viking woman is much different than you or any other woman you ever met, and it’s refreshing. She is not afraid to say what she thinks, but at the same time, she patient with you and your questions. She shows you around the village, helping you to remember where everything is. The Viking woman even chooses a few daggers for you. “Are you sure I need them?” You ask her uncertainly. “You need to learn how to fight,” she says, examining the weapons. “Of course, we won’t send you into battles, but you need to know how to protect yourself.” “Okay,” you murmur, watching her buying the right ones. At the back of your mind, you already think about how you could learn to fight. You're nothing like a shieldmaiden. You are not strong enough and definitely not brave enough. “Um, can I ask you something?” You ask her after a while as you wander around the market.

It's very different from what you're used to. The traders are from different cultures with lots of exotic spices and fruits and trinkets you never saw before. Their words are heavy with an accent as they bargain with others. “Of course,” Torvi nods, looking at you from a stall. “Why are you nice to me?” You ask her. Torvi was nice to you from the beginning. You glanced at her a lot, waiting for any disapproval showing on her face because you are the second wife. “What do you mean?” “Well… I don’t know how I would feel if my husband married another woman beside me.” “It’s not that strange here,” she explains, paying for the fruits she picked out. “If a man wealthy enough, he can have as many wives as he wants.” “But still,” you insist. “I just don’t want you to hate me, and I don’t know how to act because of it.” “You shouldn’t worry about it,” she smiles at you, pulling you along. “I must admit,” she continues. “I spied on you a little bit before the wedding.” “What?” You look at her, surprised.

Yeah, that’s true. Torvi needed to make sure you are a good choice for them. She didn’t want an uptight woman who does nothing but praying the whole day. When she first saw you, you were with your sister in the gardens. You talked and laughed. You were lively and pretty.

“I’m sorry,” she says. “But I wanted to know who Alfred’s choice was.” “No, don’t be sorry,” you tell her. “I understand. If I had a chance, I would have done it too. And… so what are we to each other?” You ask her. This question jumps around in your head since last night. “For now, we are friends,” she says with a nod to herself. “For now?” You ask back, puzzled. “Have you ever been with a woman before?” She asks you suddenly. The blood flows up to your face in seconds. “O-of course not,” you shake your head. “And you don’t find women attractive?” The question makes you stop. Every part of your beliefs says that the answer is no. It’s sinful. But if you want to be honest… you find Torvi attractive. She radiates confidence and bravery. And she is beautiful with her blonde, almost white hair and her big, green eyes. She smiles knowingly, amused at your embarrassment. “You are pretty, Y/N,” she says. “And you don’t have to be afraid of my disapproval. If I had opposed this marriage, you wouldn't be here.”

With new, warm clothes you can start to learn about the farm. Torvi shows you around the animals and the way how to take care of them. They have chickens and goats and a few horses. And to your biggest surprise, you are good with them. You enjoy taking care of them even when you are dirty and tired at the end of the day.

Ubbe and Torvi are happy to see you adjusting to their world. They are amused at your Christianity and your naivety but impressed at your working tolerance. You crawl around the mud without a second thought if it’s needed. You don’t complain, but you tell them if something is wrong. You are still shy and a little bit distant, but it’s understandable. The Viking world is still new to you, and you can’t get used to it in a few weeks. “What do you think about her?” Ubbe asks his wife, sitting at the table with a slice of apple pie in his hand as he watches you through the opened door. “She is great,” she says, following Ubbe’s eyes. You scatter food around the chickens, chuckling at their enthusiasm. “She still has a lot to learn, but she is eager.” “Did you talked about… me?” He asks, glancing at Torvi. “No,” she answers, a mocking smile forms on her lips. “But I know she likes me.” “Do you bragging?” He asks, biting into the slice. “Are you jealous?” Torvi asks back teasingly. “A little,” Ubbe admits with a shrug. “You should talk to her more,” Torvi advises her husband. “I will meet with Lagertha. This is your chance.”

You are so engrossed feeding the animals you don’t notice Torvi’s departure and Ubbe’s standing form at the door, watching you. The Viking man finds himself enjoying your focused expression and your curves in the pants you wear. “Y/N,” he says your name after a while. You look up at him, surprised. “I will go hunting,” he continues. “Do you want to come with me?” “Sure,” you nod, but your voice is uncertain. Being alone with Ubbe is still new to you, and you always try to be with Torvi. The man never showed you any hostility, and you know he was attentive the first night you spent together. Other men would have continued their movements, but he made sure he gave you as little pain as possible. “Did you ever hunted?” He asks, and you answer him with a ‘what do you think?’ expression. He smiles at your reaction, giving you your furs before he grabs his weapons.

The walk into the woods is quiet but not awkward. He makes sure you can keep up with him while you are too busy watching everything. You enjoy nature. You've never been this close to it, and now everything looks new and intriguing. You feel like a child again with new experiences. “How are you feeling here?” He asks you after a while. “Torvi told me you adjust well.” “Yes, I guess,” you answer, moving closer to him when you step into the woods. “I know I still have a lot to learn, and it annoys me when I don’t understand what others say, but I never thought I would… enjoy it.” “Are you enjoy being a heathen?” He asks teasingly. “I...’m not,” you want to argue with him, but you pause. Since you are here, you didn’t really think about your God. At first, you tried to pray every day, but soon you became too busy or too tired. You tried to reassure yourself that God probably understands your lack of prayers, you are in a new place in different circumstances, but as the weeks passed, you didn't even care about it anymore. Ubbe watches you amused. He is having fun seeing your uncertainty. Of course, if you choose to remain a Christian, he will respect it, but if he has the opportunity to change your beliefs, he will. You have much more chance to survive in their world if you follow their rules and traditions. “Did you ever used a bow before?” He questions you again, changing the topic. “No,” you shake your head, looking at the weapon in his hands. “Try it,” he says, pushing it into your hands. You look at him, shocked, not knowing how you should use it. “I’ll help you,” he says, stepping behind you adjusting your hand and arm the right way before he gives you an arrow. You feel small before him, feeling his movements around you. He leans over you, explaining everything you need to know, and you really try to listen to him, but you are too busy with his close presence. His voice is deep and gentle next to your ear, his breath is warm, and his touch is calloused on your skin. He places his hand over yours, pulling on the string till it stretches enough. The arrow flies out from its place, hitting a tree not far before you. You look up to Ubbe behind you, smiling with joy, but you know it was not your work. Ubbe’s led your every move. Without him, the arrow would probably have fallen out of your hand. “You should be worried,” you say to him teasingly. “Maybe I will be even better than you.” “We will see,” he says, moving back from you to continue your way deeper into the woods. The afternoon you spend with Ubbe is pleasant. You enjoy your walk among the trees, listening to animals, and trying to stay still when he says. He tells you about his family, and he asks about your past. He is teasing and easygoing. You laugh at his jokes and banter with him when it’s needed. When you step out of the woods, it’s already dark and cold. You pull the furs closer to you to keep yourself warm. “Did you have fun?” He asks you, dead rabbits hang over his shoulder. “It was good,” you nod. “Thank you.” He smiles at your politeness, pulling you closer to himself by your shoulder. He had his own insecurities about this marriage between you and him. Firstly, he wasn’t sure about Torvi’s acceptance, no matter how many times she said to him that it’s okay and he didn’t know how you would adjust in their lives either. He imagined a pompous, fussy woman who can’t do anything on her own, and you were a pleasant surprise. But now, especially after this day with you, he can see a well-balanced relationship between the three of you. You are clever in your own way, and you complete them just the right way. “There will be a feast in a few days,” he says. “It will be a little bit different. Do you think you are ready for it?” “Are you going to sacrifice me?” You ask him, and you don’t know you mean it as a joke or not. “No,” he laughs. “You will be safe.” “Okay then,” you nod. “And soon you should meet with the children,” he adds, looking at you for your reaction. “Okay,” you nod more confidently. You saw their children from afar a few times since you are here. Torvi talked about them a lot to you, and you are excited to get to know them.

When you get home, Torvi is already waiting for you, and soon you two cook the rabbits for dinner. You tell her about your day with Ubbe while the man skins the animals. You feel content under the dim lights of the fireplace and candles with your husband… and wife. This is the feeling you always imagined as a child when you imagined your marriage and… well, love.

Tags: @ritual-unions-gotme​​ @mystic-shadows42​

[deebeeus]

Well it can't all be 'bursts and Canary Yellow Teles, can it? 😆 I humbly submit my boring old 1968 #ES335 for WednESday. It may not be as exciting as some of the #guitars I have photographed recently, but it's actually a fine #guitar in its own right, and at least it's here for me to play when I get home after hanging out with those more rare and exciting guitars that I could never dream of actually owning myself! 🙃 Also, this is the first (of many, hopefully...) pics in 2.5 years that I have been able to take in 100% natural light! I used to take 99% of my photos in natural light. My house at the time had great windows and pointed in the right direction to catch good light most of the day. But that ended when I moved into my mom's house in another city during the pandemic, and I was forced to start using flashes for the first time. 😳 It was a huge learning curve, which I'm thankful for - otherwise I would not have learned about using artificial light! But setting up and positioning and adjusting flashes and softboxes and grids and stands and reflector panels and light modifiers turns what used to be a fun hobby into real work! It's SO MUCH easier and fun to just catch a glimpse of a guitar sitting in a corner, bathed in an interesting, natural, glowing, diffused sunlight, and capture a few quick pics for my friends on Instagram. No fuss, no muss. Plus...nothing beats the quality of good natural light. Here's to having fun with #guitarphotography again! 😉 #gibson #gibsones335 #guitar #guitars #guitarra #chitarra #guitarre #electricguitar #vintageguitars #vintagegibson #gibsonguitars #tone #guitargear #guitarsdaily #guitarsofinstagram #geartalk #vintagegear #gibsonsofinstagram (at Toronto, Ontario) https://www.instagram.com/p/Cei14PvulcL/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[decimalpointed]

An excert from my fic Beaten Dogs on AO3. If you want to read the full fic here is a link but be very mindful of tags. This is just a little cute moment I loved writing.

"We don't have all night Little Man, get on that stupid thing already." Jinx huffed out, getting impatient with his fussing.  He gestures at her with his middle finger in response.

 

When Ekko finally turns on the hoverboard, it pulses with the distinct green hue of chem-tech. The new battery makes it feel powerful in his hands. He grins in triumph. The fans whir up, gaining speed and he runs for a head start and then jumps on.

 

It shoots off at a speed he didn't expect and he swerves gracelessly to avoid smacking into the various heaps of garbage. He tries to steer his way back, but there is Jinx directly in his path, and instead of plowing her over he careens off to the side and tumbles  to the ground hard, his board skidding to a stop next to him. His adrenaline is pumping so heavily that he doesn't even feel it. He shoots up and whoops with joy and laughter. 

 

"Did you see that?!" He grabs the board and jogs back to Jinx's side. She's doubled over laughing at him. 

 

"You wiped out in less than a minute!" She wheezes at him between her laughs. He didn't realize how much he's missed the sound. Even her teasing can't spoil his mood. 

 

"Shut up, I just need practice." 

 

And practice he does. He falls on his face a few more times before he adjusts to the speed and actually starts to make progress. Jinx watches him with eager, excited eyes, sharing in his joy, and laughing every time he gets gets thrown from the board. But he gets the hang of it quickly, zipping up and down the hills of garbage, turning on a dime to avoid obstacles, and learning how to slow it down so he can hop on an off. The green glow that follows the rapid movements of the board is mesmerizing. He thinks it looks badass. He feels badass. 

Its the most fun he's had in years. He feels weightless, like he could fly up and up and up and never have to look back down into the pit he was born in. Like freedom is just a little closer, a little more tangible. 

 

Jinx is sitting on an overturned rusty bathtub. He feels suddenly bold. He wants to share this feeling. 

 

Ekko zips over with a cocky grin and slows the board to a slow crawl, hovering near her. He holds out his hand for her. 

 

"Get on."

 

"No way. That things a death trap." She shoots back, but her face says she's curious. She's got that feral gleam in her eyes. 

 

"Aw is the big, bad Jinx scared of a little fun?" He eggs her on, playful. 

 

She screws up her face at his challenge and takes his hand pulling herself up and against him onto the board. They wobble precariously until he rearranges her to be angled the same way, her back to his chest. She's biting her lips in concentration to keep the balance. They are barely moving yet. 

It was far more intimate than he realized it would be. He tells himself it doesn't matter, but its an obvious lie.

 

He wraps an arm around her torso for stability and says "Arms out for balance and lean when I do." Then he kicks up the speed. 

 

They take off like a lightning bolt and she yelps but it quickly melds into a high pitched laugh instead. He feels it reverberate through his own chest and he tightens his hold. When he kicks them into a curve she leans eagerly with him, melding her body against his to compensate for the drift. They don't fall and his confidence grows. They zip through the trash pile with whoops and laughter in the night. The dark thoughts weighing on his mind  fall away with the weightlessness of flight. 

 

After they don't crash for what feels like hours, she looks at him with mischief and says "My turn!" She pushes their weight to the back of the board before he can react, tilting the front up until they are jumping, airborne out of the trash pit and diving into a connecting tunnel. Ekko feels his heart stutter with sudden shock of fear as they are enclosed, surrounded by stone, flying at high speeds. The only light here is the eerie green glow of the board they are on. She's cackling madly at the rush, even as he steers them around obstacles, barely able to see them.

 

Well, this is what he gets for egging Jinx on. She escalates like an atom bomb. 

 

They dart through the black passageways, leaving behind their streak of emerald light as the only evidence they were there. The turns in here are tight, and sparks fly once when they cut a corner too close and scrape the bottom of the board against the wall.  Her face is wild, excited from the adrenaline. He sees a light up ahead after another harsh turn. He has no idea where they are now, taking mindless turns in the dark together.  If that isn't fitting, he doesn't know what is. 

 

They shoot out of the tunnel and the ground falls away below them. They drop rapidly and skip into the gorge? Basin? He doesn't have a chance to get a good look before they are tumbling off the board, rolling together until they skid to a stop. Ekko groans at the pain, his arms falling away from where they were clutching at Jinx, holding on for dear life. She sits up fast and throws both her arms into the air with another cackle, like she's laughing in the face of death. Ekko's laughing then too, because that's exactly what she's doing. 

[ikatako38]

thoughts on splatoon 3?

Thanks for giving me the chance to rant about this! I stayed up way too late the last two nights grinding multiplayer and story mode, and I have a lot of thoughts about it! I’m going to break it down into three parts: multiplayer, story mode, and music. And don’t worry, I’ll keep this totally spoiler-free!

Multiplayer

Multiplayer is a lot of fun! Lets start with the new weapons! So far, I’ve only tried the Splatana Wiper and the Tri-Stinger. I used the Splatana Wiper throughout most of the Splatfest, and despite the steep learning curve I’m really loving it. It feels sort of like an Octobrush combined with a Carbon Roller, which is great. The step-forward with a vertical swings is very cool and useful but has also gotten me in trouble a couple times (like stepping into a bomb). However, as I started playing Ranked Anarchy Battles (it’s going to take a while for me to make that switch), it didn’t seem to work quite as well for me s some of the weapons I was more familiar with. I had some decent success in Clam Blitz with it, though.

I bought the Tri-Stringer to use for Tower Control, and it’s been working pretty well. It feels like a charger, but it’s a lot more forgiving about aiming. The bomb-arrows can be especially useful for getting people off the tower, although to be honest that plan didn’t work quite as well as I had hoped it would. I still need to go used to the horizontal vs. vertical shots, and adjusting my aim when I jump for a vertical shot. I’ve made some pretty great splats with it so far, though. Overall very happy with it.

The only other thing I’ll mention about main weapons is that I like the new sound effect for the Rapid Blaster (and, presumably, all the other blasters, too). It feels somehow cooler. I’ve been using my Rapid Blaster primarily for Rainmaker like in Splatoon 2, but I’ve also surprisingly had a lot of success in Splat Zones with it, too.

I haven’t tried the Angle Shooter sub yet, so I can’t say much about that. As for specials, I think they seem decently balanced with each other, although I think they’re generally more powerful than the Splatoon 2 specials. I assume this is part of what contributes to the ridiculously high splat counts I’ve been seeing. The only flaw I’ve found in the specials so far is that Big Bubbler feels a little bit OP when placed on the tower in Tower Control. Zipcaster is really fun and especially useful on Tower Control, but I’m guessing it’s going to follow Splashdown down the path of Cool Looking Specials That Become Useless at Higher Levels After a Few Months Because Everyone Knows How to Counter It. Splashdown was my favorite special when I first started playing Splatoon 2, and Zipcaster is my favorite now, but I’m worried that theyre going to have the same fate. The Zipcaster counts on catching the opponent off-guard, but it’s so easy to see when someone is Zipcasting because of the glowing ink. Also, without Special Power Up, the special isn’t long enough to reasonably have a chance of splatting more than one target in different locations. However, I did just learn that the Zipcaster actually does up to 60 damage on impact if you land on an opponent, and that might be its saving grace. Also, while I haven’t personally used it, I think the Inc Vac is pretty tame. You’re out in the open for a really long time, exposed from the back, and it just makes a little explosion in a predictable location. Since I started playing (including the Splatfest), I still haven’t been splatted but an Ink Vac even once.

And before we move on from weapons I’ll also bring up Squid Roll and Squid Surge, I guess. They’re useless. That’s all I have to say. I had high hopes for them, but I really don’t see any way they could consistently help anything. The Squid Surge takes too long, and the jump you get is… what, maybe a few inches higher than without it? It also does work on low walls. I can only see two instances where it would ever be useful: if a wall isn’t full inked (but still inked just enough), or possibly on Blackbelly Skatepark. And even in those cases, only with certain weapons. As for the squid roll, it requires you to be swimming through your ink at a speed that’s impractical during battle. Even one tiny dot of ink can slow your momentum, and if someone is shooting at you, you’re quickly going to lose mobility. Not to mention that you can only jump between about 120 to 180 degrees of the direction you’re swimming in. I can only see one instance where this one would be useful: to avoid a bomb you’re swimming toward.

Ok, moving on from weapons. The new stages all seem great so far! I’m also especially happy to see Museum d’Alfonsino and Wahoo World returning. The only big thing I’ve noticed so far about the maps is that the Inkblot Art Academy map for Clam Blitz has replaced with the stairs right in front of the basket with a ramp. It’s definitely an interesting choice and makes scoring a lot easier. It also makes it possible to use the Reefslider or and Ultra Stamp to open a path to the the basket, where it was very difficult to effectively use a Baller, Ultra Stamp, or Splashdown. Other than that I haven’t noticed any major changes to returning stages.

I touched on this already, but let’s talk about… stats, I guess? For one, I’ve noticed that splat counts are WAY higher across the board, on both teams, even. As for the “Awards,” I really down understand them at all. What’s the difference between “#1 Overall Shooter” and “#1 Enemy Shooter”? What on Earth is “#1 Record-Breaker” (it was something like that) or “#1 Point-Scorer (which I got in a Tower Control game where I was backling with the Hydra Splatling and never touched the Tower once). It’s fun and all, but I’d like to know what they actually mean, especially if they’re figuring into my Rank. Also, it’s SO nice that they included the times splatted so that I don’t have to check Splatnet after every single battle. They still didn’t break down the splats and splat assists, though, so you still have to go to Splatnet for that. (Really, how hard could it be?)

I’m really happy that they brought back all the Ranked Modes. I was especially worried about Clam Blitz because it gets so much hate, but it’s actually my favorite mode so I’m glad we have it. I did hope to get a new fifth Ranked mode, but I’m happy enough with what we have. The four modes seem unchanged except for Rainmaker’s inclusion of checkpoints and Clam Blitz’s change from 10 clams to a power clam to 8. I think the checkpoints for Rainmaker are a great idea. It gives the defending team some time to respawn to that a wipeout in the first few seconds doesn’t automatically mean a loss. Also, it narrows down the routes you can take, which gives the offense a sense of direction while making it more predictable for the defense. It gets a little confusing for stages that’s have two checkpoints, but as far as I can tell you can just s pick one or the other.

The 8-Clam rule is interesting… to be honest, it doesn’t really affect my formation of clams much (one clam short is still one clam short), but one thing that I do think is worth mentioning is the scoring. In both games, a clan is worth 3 while a Power Clam is worth 20. However, 10 clams on their own would be 30 points, which means that you sacrifice 10 points every time you make a Power Clam. The tradeoff, presumably, is that you get all 20 points in one quick toss. I’m Splatoon 3, this disparity drops to 4 points instead of 10. This means that, if the opponent’s basket is already open, forming and tossing in power clams instead of regular clams doesn’t have as much of a negative effect.

Okay… I just talked about multiplayer for WAY TOO LONG. The next sections will be shorter, I promise.

Story Mode

I was a little nervous when I first started the story campaign because it starts just like Octo Valley and Octo Canyon, but I should’ve known there’d be some sort of twist. Lore-wise, I did find it unnerving to hear Cap’n Cuttlefish using Octoling slurs to my face. (Especially because my New Agent 3 is an Octoling!) I guess the character development we thought we got in Octo Expansion didn’t really happen? Then again, there was some very brief interaction between Cap’n and DJ Octavio that I’m sure got the Cuttletavio shippers excited. While personally I don’t ship it strongly, it was sort of exciting.

I sort of screwed up my Captain Three because it was really hard to tell what color the little splashes actually were without actually seeing them on his body, so his skin tone ended up being clearly a shade too dark, but it’s fine I guess. I understand why they did what they did when you try to talk to him, and, honestly, I’m kind of glad because if they gave him a really distinct personality it might be at odd with my Three. But it’s still frustrating to just watch him sit there while Callie and Marie talk to you over the comms and follow you around. Having Captain Three talk to us over the comms during missions would have been so cool! So, naturally, I’m probably going to have to write about it. I don’t have any ideas yet, but assuming the TPWCH sequel is also set post-canon, I pretty much need to finish the story mode and probably the DLC too before I can even start thinking about it.

Also, there’s no sign of Four or Eight yet, and I kind of doubt they’ll appear. I’m guessing Eight may reappear in the DLC, though, possibly alongside Four.

As for the structure of the campaign… the best way for me to sum it up is that it feels like a ripoff of Octo Expansion, but at least it’s not a ripoff of Octo Valley or Octo Canyon. The Alterna Logs are pretty cool, at least.

I also think it’s kind of bizzare just how low percentage completion they allow you to move forward with. I cleared up to Site 4 last night, and k only had to do like 1 or 2 levels from each Site. I’m definitely going to go back eventually, but I really was wanting to binge the plotline at the time.

The boss battles are cool from a lore standpoint, but from a mechanics/difficulty perspective, they’re rather average. They’re pretty similar to the kinds of bosses we’ve fought throughout the other two games, and they’re not all that difficult.

I’m guessing there’s going to be another big twist once we’re finish all 6 Sites, and I hope they pulls through! So far though, I give it maybe a 6/10 for both mechanics and lore.

Music

I did want to do a quick section in the music, too, because WOW! The battle music is amazing. Every single song is an absolute banger. It’s fun to hear Pearl and Marina singing in normal battles, too! Definitely nothing to complain about there.

I’ve never really liked the Story Campaign music all that much in the other games, it just seems kind of drab to me. Return of the Mammalians isn’t much better. I still prefer the Octo Valley music the most, actually. Oh, and there’s that one track in the new campaign that sounds like there’s an opera singer in the background… why? I hate it.

And finally, can we talk about the music in the Battle Lobby? Because sometimes I swear it’s normal, and then all of a sudden there’s these really funky noises going on. Also what exactly is the purpose of the Copy Machine? It seems completely useless.

On that lovely note, I’ll wrap it up. Overall, I’m totally overjoyed for the game! I’m definitely going to spend almost all my free time playing it, and Splatoon 2 (sadly) is getting demoted to a Nostalgia Only game. I love the graphics and the music of the new game so much, and the new weapons/specials are really exciting! I’ll also post an update once I’ve tried out Table Turf (which I’m really excited for!) and Salmon Run.

I’ll leave you off with a picture of my adorable lil’ Octo UwU (I love that the Hero Suit is a crop top for both “styles”)

[crimsonrae]

Reckless Intent: Part Two

Summary: When the dance between Sherlock and Delia first began, learning the steps did not come smoothly. But then that would happen when affections haven’t been made clear and a murderer is on the loose.

SherlockXOFC

Rating: M

Warning: Some manhandling, allusions to nudity.

A/N: Set about ten years before the events in Enola. Sherlock has only been away from home for about three years. So this is more from Sherlock’s point of view and I had fun with this, because despite how intelligent he is, I think that he would still be lost to a woman’s way of thinking or reacting. Also there will be a part three. A culmination if you will of all my teasing : )

Reckless Intent: Part Two

It had taken more time than he would have liked to get the bestial efflux that had swarmed his blood to calm.  

Sherlock pulled a long-drawn breath through his nose as he silently counted the seconds until a certain menace in the shape of woman appeared by his side. Never had he met someone who could stir his anger so easily. She made him want to rage, to shake her until sense fell into that cob she called a mind. How she could incite him with just a few well-placed words was boggling.  

Yet, images of Delia on that stage danced before his eyes as he waited outside the club. The hint of cleavage through the feathers of her fan, the shapely curve of her thigh... Lust had seared his veins at the unexpected display of her womanly assets. His palms had itched with the need to cup her silky flesh, to leave his mark on her unblemished hide, and pull the most melodic notes of pleasure from her dainty throat. His manhood had hardened with a demand that only her tempting hole could satisfy.

And had they been alone?  

Had the ravenous stares and drunken jeering of the swine inside not been present... he would have taken her there on that staged. He would have answered her teasing seduction, shown her what happened when such a flag was waved before a bull.  

But they hadn’t been alone. He wasn’t the only one to gaze upon her bare flesh and that was unforgivable. Fury still spurned his veins, only the remembrance of their kiss tempered his lingering ire.

Sherlock bit back a groan as he tried to ignore the memory of the delightful contrast of her wired nest against her smooth skin and her heat... his fingers had been brushed by her desirous warmth, had felt the hint of her promising dewy depths. He marveled that he hadn’t sunk into her depths there and then. Her protest to his advances had been meek at best. There was no doubt in his mind that his Delia was a wanton... but she was his wanton. It was high time that he made his claim known.

He would not tolerate another incident such as this.

His fingers flexed and tightened over the head of his cane, releasing the frustrated bur that Delia so expertly pricked in him. It wouldn’t do to walk the streets with an erection like an adolescent boy. As if she knew his struggle, Delia appeared at his elbow only to add oil to his smoldering flame. Her frock covered little more of her chest than her stage attire.  

His nostrils flared with annoyance. Even her hair was still unrestrained, her curls falling loose about her shoulders, “That was longer than ten minutes.”

Delia arched a brow at him, unimpressed by his dour reproach, “Yet, you didn’t come back for me. You should be pleased.”

His glare was glacial, but she refused to simper –stubborn mule of a woman.  

Sherlock snatched her elbow before she had a chance to send another volley. The firm grip teetered on the edge of impropriety, but it was hardly the most improper act that either one of them had committed so far. He nudged her forward, refusing to speak further until they were away from this infernal club.

Luckily, Delia took the hint as she adjusted her arm in his grip and fell into step. It wasn’t lost on him that she had quickly masked the aggressive undertones of their current meeting. It no longer looked as if he were dragging an unruly woman through the street but had taken to escorting a potential paramour. Strangely, they fell somewhere in between the two paradigms.

They swept down the dimly lit streets with marked silence. He, still simmering, unwilling to vent his anger where it could be heard by the restless populace of London and she – he darted a glance to his companion – she was remarkably stoic. Her features serene as if nothing was amiss, but the darkened hue to her cheeks and the tense set to her jaw belied her discomfort... or perhaps her anticipation.  

Sherlock wasn’t sure which beset her and ignored the little voice in his ear that whispered it was the later. He had decided long before he had exited the club that his baser urges would be denied that night. Far more pressing concerns needed to be addressed before he conducted any further intimate explorations of her body.

As if she knew where his thoughts had led, Delia smirked dimly as he prodded her up the steps to his apartments. He wanted nothing more than to steal that smile from her face and it wasn’t until the door clicked firmly shut that he began his attack, “Have you lost your damn mind? Did you even for one minute think about what would happen to you in that place?”

“Sherlock -”

“No.” He continued as if he hadn't heard her, “You didn’t. You’re lucky I was there – that I even had an inkling to show up. Else wise you would’ve ended up like your friend or worse on your back -”

SMACK.

Fire laced up the side of his face as he felt the imprint of her palm reverberate through the bone of his cheek. Glowering he turned back to her and found Delia torn between shock at her actions and indignant.

Her breath came fast as she spat, “You are not my keeper, Sherlock Holmes. If you’re not going to discuss this case, say so now and I will take my leave.”

Sherlock smiled grimly, “Oh, I am taking the case, Delia. I’ve said as much already. And you’re right, I’m not your keeper. I’m far more than that and you will acknowledge it before the night is over.”

“How dare you!” Indignation seemed to have won out in his little menace as she hissed, “To make such assumptions based on one measly kiss... I would think such acts beneath you. Impervious king that you are.”

Volatile.  

Rash.  

Words that could be used to describe both of them in that moment, Sherlock noted distantly. He fought to keep a hold of his temper. He had pushed her tonight and she had already been walking a tightrope by going undercover in that club. He shouldn’t be surprised that the bewilderment and anger she had carefully kept under lock and key had been released now.  

However, he was sure that he had made his intentions clear long before his stolen kiss, in fact he was sure of it. A resounding crack echoed through the foyer, stunning both occupants as the head of Sherlock’s cane fell from its body. He hadn’t realized how tightly he had been gripping the implement or even that he was still holding it.  

He cast the ruin staff aside with a barely contained growl, “One measly kiss?”

He prowled forward like a stalking jaguar, “Is that what you think I based my assumptions on?”

Delia, to her credit, did not cower from him as she lifted her chin defiantly, “I think you saw naked flesh and responded as all men do.”

Again, Sherlock wondered if she could read minds. Hadn’t his thoughts dwelled upon her wicked display before she had arrived at his side? But she was very mistaken if she thought that his reaction was merely a result of her dance... No, his interest in Delia Woodson had started long before this night.

“Blue myosotis.”  

Delia blinked, her confusion apparent by his pointed delineation, “Pardon?”

“Blue myosotis.” Sherlock repeated definitively, “Or more commonly – forget-me-nots. You pinned them to my lapel three months, one week, and two days ago. After that murdered child was found by the docks. I was upset, but you...you were the only one to notice. You saw through the impassivity that I had carefully cultivated to keep myself detached.”  

He refused to use the word impervious.

His voice grew soft, “You pinned the flower to my lapel and said, ‘It’s a small token, Mr. Holmes, but colorful – bright. You need a little of that I think.’ I knew I loved you then.... and the flower you chose? More than appropriate for that realization. I doubt you knew but forgot-me-not's represent true love.”  

Stricken with shock, Delia could only gape at the unexpected confession, “I - Sherlock.”

“So, yes, Delia. I am far more than your keeper.” He continued stoutly, daring her to interrupt, to protest his words, “And not yet your lover, but that state will be rectified soon enough I’d wager. And no, our kiss had little to do with your irreverent show, though I do wish it had been under different circumstances, I don’t regret it.”

He could see her floundering. By not hiding from the truth, nor ignoring his earlier actions he had stripped bare any defensive armor she had managed to cobble together in their brief time apart. And he had finally acknowledge the elephant that he had been alluding to all night. He didn’t need to hear the words reciprocated – he knew she felt the same, though she hadn’t realized it until he had accosted her in that club. He had seen the moment she comprehended where her affections laid.

His hand came up to grasp her chin as he made sure that he fully held her attention, “And such antics will not occur ever again. I won’t stand for it and your bottom won’t sit for it, should you attempt such an act.”

Her eyes widened at his pointed threat, knowing he was serious her defiance flickered at him. Sherlock nearly grumbled. Why did he have to fall in love with the most obtuse woman on the bloody planet?

“This...” She drew a calming breath and laced her delicate fingers over the top his that still grasped her chin, “This is not talk of the case.”

Dull amusement laced through him at her poor deflection, but he took his cue and drew back a step, “I garnered several leads while you were performing. I’ll be able to more thoroughly investigate tomorrow. I haven’t forgotten about your Margaret.”  

“What leads?”

Sherlock shook his head in the face of her hungry interest. She had taken far too many risks as it were for this case, “No. You want me to take this case and investigate? Then my price is that you stay out of it.”

“But -”

“You were reckless tonight.” Sherlock vented, his anger rising back to the top. She hadn’t seen the men that had watched her – followed her, but he had. Not all of her audience had been lustful brigands. His little menace had made no secret of her inquiry into her friend’s death, “Purposefully, I’m certain.”

Her lip jutted out temptingly and he nearly cracked a smile in the face of her pout, “She’s my friend, Sherlock. Surely, I deserve to know – to help.”    

“You will stay out of it. That’s my price – take it or leave it, Delia.” He stated resoundingly, unwilling to budge on this point. He would fill her in once he had solved the crime and the murderer was being carted off by Scotland Yard, but not a second before that occurred.

Delia huffed as she dared ask, “And if I refuse and continue to investigate on my own?”

Sherlock stiffened at her challenge as he raised an unimpressed brow and smiled thinly, “Oh, I dare you to try. You won’t make it out that door, I can promise you that.”

“I have to leave some time; I don’t live here.” She muttered lowly, after all he only had just started his investigation.

“Yet.” Sherlock returned arrogantly as he stepped towards the stairs, “Mrs. Hudson!”

The shadow of his housekeeper appeared at the top of the stairs within seconds. He had no doubt that she had heard every word passed between himself and Delia, but ever discreet the matronly woman had waited until he beckoned. Draped in her robe and bonnet, he felt a stirring of guilt for having disturbed her slumber with his return, but even still as she blandly met his stare – he couldn’t help the mischievous spark that entered his mien.

“Please ready the guestroom. Miss. Woodson will be staying here tonight.” Loathe as he was to have her out of his sight, Sherlock knew they needed space. Too much had occurred in a sort time span and to be perfectly frank he needed a moment away from the weight of her presence. He needed to recoup.  

“That’s not necessary.” Delia started softly.

Sherlock barely contained a weary sigh, “It’s late and I’m not in the mood to escort you back to Hoxton.”

She blinked, bemusement once again piercing her features, “How did you know - ?”

Sherlock didn’t deign to answer. To say he wasn’t thrilled that she lived in such a horrid area was a vast understatement, but he had to admit that it was a step above White Chapel and far better than Old Nichol. Another situation he would soon need to rectify.

“I’ll have warm water brought to your room.” He said instead, “Rest. We’ll speak more in the morning when calmer heads prevail.”

Delia stared at him with an expression he couldn’t decipher but found that the calm he had just manage to reclaim was rapidly deteriorating. His heart lurched and the familiar itch to his palms returned as she stepped back into his sphere.

“Delia...”

“You followed me. You accosted me. Kissed me. Protected me. Took a case that is boring just to make me happy -”

“Keep you out of trouble -”

“Told me that you love me.” She continued as if he hadn’t spoken and soundly shut him up. 

Delia smiled then. A small smile, but so bright before she leant up on her toes and claimed a kiss so gentle that it stole his breath.

Unconsciously, his fingers latched into the folds of her gown as he pulled her closer and deepened the kiss. The supple swell of her lips felt like silk under the brush of his tongue. She tasted sweet, like honey and tea. She moaned lowly and a pleased growl rumbled through his chest at the sound.

They must have stood like that for only a few seconds, but it felt like an eternity.  

Delia, as tenderly as she had approached him, broke away again and started up the stairs. Sherlock could only watch after her dazed. 

She paused halfway up and glanced at him over her shoulder, “And you send me to the guestroom? You’re an odd man, Sherlock Holmes.”

She disappeared over the landing and Sherlock was left in stunned amusement. He had half a mind to go after her. Her teasing knew no bounds it seemed... but despite her words, he knew she was virginal, and he planned to take his time divesting her of that chaste state.

However, he should have known that Delia had no such patience...

Damn her.

Previous Chapter

[egoludes]

the greatest gift of all.

note: so, to be honest with y’all...i have no idea where this came from. i was just minding my business this weekend, @adorecevans​​ and i started talking about one (1) headcanon scenario, and now here we are! this is going to be a v casual series, basically just snippets of dom!chris and sub!reader (in no particular order) building a relationship. future installments will explore the history more, but what you need to know for this one and the series overall: dom!chris meets sub!reader through a dom/sub dating app of sorts and have been engaging each other long distance for a few months. reader has no idea that it’s chris evans for the obvious reasons, and since he doesn’t give a name at all, she addresses him as Sir. i’ll explore all that background more in the future, but for now: i really hope you enjoy!

credits: unsplash for the stock image, and an anon in @honeychicanawrites​​‘s asks one day for the image of cevans calling his lady ‘mama’... i had to do it. 

warnings: masturbation, voyeuristic vibes, intimacy over video call, dom/sub dynamics, long distance / virtual relationships, sex toys, use of title as name (sir).

wc: 2.3k

The thought comes to you on a Sunday afternoon.

You’re on your belly thumbing through texts, legs up and crossed at the ankles with Sir’s newest gift -- a pretty pink slip -- and your laptop beside you. The screen is dark, save for a grey circle with an initial in the center that lets you know he’s there, listening, when you say: “Have you ever tried one of those dildo molds, Sir?”

The initial silence is suffocating, and you worry for a second that the idea - spur of the moment, really - goes too far. You’re just learning each other, after all; still adjusting to the pictures, the calls, the gifts you model for him with pride. 

But then, he speaks, a familiar rasp to the words that makes you clench in your fitting black shorts. The question comes from a place of genuine curiosity, but you’ve riled him up still, which excites you; always does. “That’s what you’re thinking about over there, huh? Feeling me?”

Your body heats, conditioned already to react to that dangerous tone in his voice; but you try to keep your expression reticent when you turn it to your camera. There’s another moment of nothing -- just you watching the lens like it’s him before you. Then, your lips curl, lids narrow, and your voice turns playfully sweet. “Well, when am I not?”

He hisses, a sharp sound that makes you preen, and you can hear him on the other end, adjusting his screen. “Easy, mama,” he growls, earning himself a giggle, “it’s too early for you to be working me up.”

You laugh again, this time with more body before resting your cheek on your palm. Without his video on -- a compromise you’ve grown used to -- you can’t know that he’s actually watching you. But you lean into it all the same, swinging your legs behind you. “But, have you?”

He clicks his tongue, a thoughtful sound, and you imagine what his features must look like, twisted by consideration. “No - I don’t think I know anyone’s who has either.”

You hum, eyes glinting with something that makes him suck in a breath. “I’ve always wondered about it. Not just the process, but just...having one,” you murmur, settling deeper into your pensive stance. There’s a dreaminess to your tone that not even you notice; but he, that ever-mindful man, takes note.

You continue on, none the wiser. 

////

A week later, you come home at the top of rush hour, grateful that you’ve made it so early, but burdened all the same. Stress is a fickle, but poignant thing, and you’re feeling its weight extra today as you make your way up to your apartment. You’re excited for the time to yourself, thinking on what you might make for dinner, when you see it - a small, but noticeable box at the foot of your door.

Immediately, your expression turns, confusion and wariness turning your mouth into a scowl. You don’t remember ordering anything, nor are you expecting something for anyone else. You hope the label will give you a clue about what this could be, but to your chagrin, it has no company - just your address and a generic return location. 

Still, you take it in, setting it on the kitchen counter, where it stays forgotten as you shower, eat, and pour yourself a glass of wine. You’re halfway through the second when the package re-snares your attention from the corner of your eye. You drain the rest of your drink with a gulp, wiping red off the corners of your mouth before you stand, determined, to approach it.

The box is unassuming; plain cardboard with nothing but the barebones label to distinguish it. You lift it again, this time with both hands, to measure it and feel something heavy shift inside. It’s enough to pique your curiosity, and you tear through the packaging until you can see what’s in it.

At the center is another, smaller box made of sleek black velvet. A card is attached with red ribbon, careful lettering penned in dark ink. Even before you fish it out, you can work out the message, but it doesn’t feel real until the note sits in your hand and you’re reading it up close.

For my favorite girl; so you can feel me any time you want.

Sir.

Your eyes dance over the words a few times before their meaning sinks in and you realize it’s a gift from him. Then, you’re practically rabid, tugging out the box out and flipping the lid in one motion.

When you see what’s inside, it’s all you can do not to buckle at the knees. In the middle of the box, set up almost regally on a bed of plushy silk, is a veined, pink dildo. You don’t need to touch it to know that it’s heavy, but that doesn’t stop you from doing it all the same. Your fingers take it by the base first, wrapping firmly above the balls to test the weight. And you moan at it, that delicious thickness as you lift it from the box with both hands. Your palms curve around it, twitching with want, and you realize then that this is what he looks like, what he feels like.

What you would get if he came home to you for real.

The thought is too much to bear. Your breath quickens, fingers dancing deliberately up and over the shaft to size it up. You tell yourself that this is all you need for now ---- you know better than anyone that to use this toy for the first time without him is a test of his patience you’re certain to fail. But, the more you touch, the more you need, and before you can reconsider, you’re on your hands and knees on your couch, panties pressed sloppily to the side as you guide the heft of Sir’s length past your aching entrance.

The impact is immediate. You fall forward with a gasp as every inch stretches you open and by the time it’s fully seated, your face is completely hidden in your couch cushions. The fabric muffles your voice as your hips start to move, a slow, languid grind to make sure everything is felt. 

You get so lost in it, you don’t hear your phone buzzing until it’s almost too late. But, at the nth moment, you recognize the ringtone you’d chosen just for him and, despite the clear risk of answering, you reach for the device, trembling with nerves, excitement, and lust, at the dangerous game you’re about to play. 

When you answer, there’s nothing but darkness from his end and your face in the corner. You’re sitting on your butt now, legs carefully spread and hips angled to keep from jostling the toy inside you. But, it’s hard not to squirm in a situation like this; even more so, when he starts to talk, voice raw from the day. 

“Hi, honey,” he breathes, the endearment -- your favorite -- making your heart swell, “almost thought you were already asleep.”

You shake your head, biting back a knowing smile. “No, Sir… I’m still awake, just...watching tv.”

“Yeah?” He says, something skeptical in the tone. Even without his video on, you can almost feel his gaze burning a hole in your expression. Like he’s inspecting it, picking it apart for clues. He must find one, because he hums lowly; a dip in the sound that makes it sound like he’s smirking. “Only watching tv?”

“Y-Yes, Sir…”

“Okay, okay -- what’re you watching? Is it any good?”

Your eyes flicker towards the television to glean what’s playing, but Sir catches you before you can get a good look. “Nuh uh -- eyes over here.” 

Despite your better judgment, you pout, all but caught now, and the expression makes him laugh. He’d had a number of subs before you -- people who had piqued his sexual interest, but never quite held up to any of his other, more innocent expectations. But you ---- even if he wouldn’t call you something as invested as a lover, your personality makes it hard to be anything but endeared to you. Before he knew it, he was in headlong, calling you for sessions a couple times a week, sending gifts even more than that. You’re fun to just exist with, even in this moment as he’s so deliberately toying with you.

“Can’t be too good if you can’t tell me anything about it without looking, huh?” His voice drops, a dangerous timbre taking it, and you feel your body shake. “So you gonna tell me the truth before you get yourself in more trouble?”

A whimper breaks past parted lips and you bite down a little too late to stifle the sound. “T-The toy,” you whisper, clenching around his cock despite him being hundreds or thousands of miles away. The irony isn’t lost on you - if anything, it’s making your need spike. There’s something so odd, but so enticing about the whole thing. “I couldn’t wait, Sir… your cock just looked so good.”

Sir curses near the phone, so close that you swear you can feel the breath of it on your palm. “Jesus...I knew you’d be hungry for it, but I didn’t think it’d get you this much. Breakin’ our number one rule and everything.” You shift on the couch, free hand reaching to pull out the dildo in anticipation of his punishment. It’s likely to be no orgasms for the night which, as disappointing as that is, seems almost worth it for the pleasure of this weight inside you. Then he speaks again, forcing you to pause in your motion.

“Get on your computer ---- I want to see the way I fit inside you. Then, we can talk about your punishment.”

The minutes between your phone call and the start of the call on your laptop are equal parts tantalizing and tortuous. You’ve only broken this rule once prior and ended up having to watch him fuck his hand through two sloppy orgasms before getting sent to bed without touching yourself even once. So the fact that he seems to be inclined to let you keep the dildo in gives you pause.

But it’s the sort that’s almost intoxicating. Your adrenaline is pumping, thighs slick with want, and by the time you’ve gotten the video up and running, you’ve shed your panties completely, legs wedged open with the camera trained between them as directed.

“Fuckin’ hell, sweetie… look at that pussy eating me up.” You whine out for him, walls clenching visibly at his words in a reaction that makes him purr. “That good? Everything you thought it would be?”

You nod in a daze, cock drunk even with your hips still, and Sir shifts on the other end, the telltale clink of an open belt alerting you to how good it feels for him too. You’re in two minds to beg him to see, even if it’s just a view of the waist down, when he beats you to the punch. “Take it out --”

You blink, trying to focus on his words enough to make sense of his command. He can see the confusion in your face and has to try not to laugh. “Take it out,” he repeats, “and sit on it. I want to see you take it properly.”

It’s a scramble after that -- you, shifting and guiding the toy out of you until you’re hovering over the tip of it on your knees. Lidded eyes dance towards your laptop as you still there, body wound tight in anticipation, and like many times before, you hold his gaze through the lens as you sink down, down, down onto the dildo he made for you.

If you thought you were full before, you’re certainly learning your lesson. The change in angle has the cock dizzyingly deep, enough that it punches the air out of your lungs. You can feel the balls against your bare skin, a permanent reminder of how much you’ve taken, and when he calls for you again, adoration in the breathy tones, you can’t help but buzz. 

You love to make him proud of you.

His tone is so tender that you nearly forget you’re in trouble and are about to lift your hips and give him a show when he stops you. “You heard what I said, honey,” he teases when your confused expression returns. “I want you to sit on it. You stay right where you are.”

The urge to beg is potent -- a searing kind of desperation that you’ve never minded indulging with him. But before you can form words in your head, let alone out loud, the dildo comes to life inside you, shaking with such force you cry out from the suddenness. Between being full, and the toy revealing itself to be a vibrator, it’s all too much, so much, and you’re falling back into the couch knees shaking beneath you.

“Now, now, don’t give up on me yet,” Sir coos, a distinct click sounding from his side of the screen and confirming your suspicions when the vibrator turns off right after, “you wanted  to feel me, didn’t you?” He pauses long enough for you to nod, gasping in a breath as your teary eyes dance blindly over the screen you wish you could see him on. There’s another click, then a cry as your body arches in an involuntary jolt.

“Then, be a good girl - show me how well you can handle it.”

[secretlysheikah]

Blood and Bowstring 

Well well well, I have something special for all of you! To celebrate getting to 200 followers on this little angsty blog of mine, I have decided it would be fun to write a little something for you all to enjoy. Its not very long, But I hope you like it! 

Thank you all so much for supporting me and my writing! I don’t know where you all came from, but I am so happy you decided to join me. Thank you!

Start Here:

Wild as he was now called was still wary of the eight other heroes, but that was to be expected considering his past. Wild had spent his adventure alone, and even now, after his adventure was done he often found himself wandering Hyrule alone. It felt freeing, not having to answer to anyone but himself. But now, being around this large and rowdy group, he realized just how lonely he had been. He still wanted to have privacy, felt the urge to wander, but as a whole he didn’t mind the others. The various Links hadn’t been together for long but Wild could feel the tenuous bonds of friendship beginning to grow between them.  

It had been about three weeks since Wild had been... Recruited? Asked to join? Added to the group, and there had been a bit of a learning curve. He had to learn how to fight in a group, which was a pain and he couldn’t just wander off anymore without being rounded up (by a wolf of all things) and then getting a lecture for his trouble. The chain, as the youngest of the group had dubbed them, had a mission, a dangerous one and it wouldn’t be good if he got lost or hurt when he wandered. Thinking of their mysterious mission Wild honestly didn’t really know what that they were supposed to be doing. Besides traveling between the different eras of Hyrule and fighting powerful monsters there didn’t seem to be much direction as of yet. Wild was pulled from his thoughts when a voice piped up from across the camp.

“Who do you think is the best archer?” Wind asked from his place next to the fire. They had just finished dinner and everyone was chatting amicably as they relaxed. This question had the group pause in their collective conversations as they pondered the question. 

“Well I don’t want to brag, but I have shot keese from a far distance before.” The one called Warriors said proudly adjusting his blue scarf before he mimicked shooting an arrow.

“A keese? Are you kidding me pretty boy, how about something actually impressive,” Legend scoffed and was playfully jabbed in the side by the brown haired boy. Wild tried to recall the name of the other boy but found he was drawing a blank. 

Wild had struggled with the names of his fellow heroes for a while now, there were some names he was able to remember easily. Like Legend, the distinctive pink in his hair made it easy for Wild to remember his name. Well that, and the fact that Legend often came off as a standoffish prick with the ability to cut your pride in half with a sentence also helped. Wild struggled to recall the name of the brown haired boy for a moment longer until it popped into his head. The boy’s name was Hyrule, soft spoken and kind, Wild liked him. Hyrule was a wanderer like himself and with the few interactions they had Wild knew he found someone to take with him if he ever had the urge to explore the new terrain.   

The conversation quickly escalated from there with everyone trying to one up each other with more outlandish stories from their adventures. It was terribly amusing and Wild had an urge to join them but he decided to sit this one out and just observe. While he was getting used to the others, he still found that he didn’t want to offer too much information about himself just yet. It would be better to have an element of surprise just in case things turned sour. 

Warriors as it turned out was quite the story teller, he boasted about feats that had no chance of actually being true. Though Wind did come up with some whoppers of his own. The conversation continued on, and Wild found that the most impressive story was told by Twilight. He claimed that with a special mask and some enchanted arrows he was able to take out a whole camp of bulblins (whatever those were) from over a large field length away. Not to be outdone Wind was quick to jump in and Wild had to hide an amused laugh when he claimed that he had to shoot a sea monster in the eye while trying to sail through a storm and a whirlpool all at the same time. 

“It was nuts! I could barely see through the rain and the flashes of lightning!” Wind said, jumping to his feet and dramatically acted out the scene. Out of the corner of his eye Wild noticed how Legend winced slightly whenever Wind described the lighting. Curiosity burned inside him and he wanted to ask about it but one look from the red clad hero stopped that line of thinking before it even got started. Wild looked away quickly when he realized with dawning horror that he had been staring but it was too late, he had been caught.

“What about you Wild? Have anything to contribute?” Legend sneered and Wild felt his heart freeze. All eyes turned to him and he shrunk down under the weight of the stares. He hated having so much attention on him, it made him uncomfortable. Wild tugged at his hood. He thought about pulling it on hoping it would release him from the crushing weight of their stares, but he found he couldn’t get it to lift up. He could feel heat rising to his face, his scars began to burn and he rubbed at them in a vain attempt to quell the ache. Wild could feel his breaths growing quick and he longed for escape and fresh air. Luckily a voice sliced through his panic and he felt the eyes of the others shift away from him. 

“Hey, It’s okay if you don’t want to share, we have plenty to go off of already,” the smallest hero, Four said, drawing the attention of the others off of Wild. He gave the other hero a short nod in thanks and after a moment of awkward tugging managed to pull the hood up and over his head. The weight of it calmed him slightly and he took special care to ensure that his face was hidden in shadows. 

“Have anything specific in mind, Four?” The soft spoken hero, Sky asked with a sleepy yawn and a stretch. Wild felt himself slouch and he pulled his knees up towards his chest so he could rest his arms on top of them. He was curious despite himself, and he wanted to know what the others considered impressive. 

“Well there was the lizalfos that he shot through the eye. That was pretty impressive given the fact that, from where he shot, there was barely enough clearance to see, let alone fire,” Four said matter-of-factly. The others nodded in agreement and Wild felt his eyebrow quirk up. He remembered that, it wasn’t a hard shot in his opinion, anyone could do that. He kept quiet though when Wind began to speak.  

“OH! And remember the moblin he took down? He shot three arrows at once!” Wind added excitedly and the others murmured excitedly. Wild hardly considered that impressive, though he supposed he hadn’t seen the others do something like that before. As they continued to chat Wild still felt the tight coil of anxiety twisting around his gut. His heart thudded hard against his ribcage and he worked on calming it while he continued to listen to the others rattle off more examples of his archery prowess. 

Even with all the eyes off him he still couldn’t stop himself from wanting to shrink down into a ball. He chided himself for being so weak, they were just talking about his archery skills. Though he could hear a distant bell of familiarity ringing in his mind. This whole situation felt very familiar in the worst kind of way and for some reason it made him very anxious, like he was being judged. In a way he was being judged, but it was all in good fun, he knew that. So why did he feel like he was about to get punished?

“Did you have any training?” Someone asked and Wild could only manage the barest of nods. The ringing in his head became deafening and he felt his muscles beginning to lock up. He could tell the others were still talking to him but they might as well have been miles away. His gaze became fixed on a point somewhere in the distance as everything began to fade into the background noise. He knew what this was now but there was nothing he could do to stop it. The memory was already pulling him away from the world and everyone in it. He took a deep breath and let himself fall into it. 

************ 

Link felt the painful vibration from the bow string as the arrow was loosed. It landed with a solid thunk into the target making a tight grouping at its center. His fingers ached, his back muscles pulled and cramped painfully and his arms were little better than chu jelly. At the shout from his commander Link stood at attention ignoring the pull and burn in his back as he did so. Back perfectly straight and rigid and eyes staring straight ahead he schooled his face into a flat emotionless mask and waited. His commander walked up to the target followed by one of his subordinates and together they studied his handy work. Link could tell by their posture that they weren’t satisfied with his shooting. His fingers gave a painful throb and he felt something warm pool at the tip of his middle finger.   

“Sloppy work,” the commander scoffed as he ripped one of the arrows free and eyed the hole left behind in the target. Link felt his mouth press into a firm line but he said nothing. 

“I agree, this is worse than last time,” the subordinate commented blandly as he too pulled another arrow out from the target and examined the fletching. Link felt his heart begin to sink, he knew what this meant. They had already been shooting for over three hours now and his fingers were little better than raw and bleeding skin. 

When they had begun with his archery training Link had been excited. He always had an interest in archery after watching the older soldiers practicing in the courtyard some years ago. But after a few rounds of shooting, his fingers became stiff and sore. His arm that held the bow had already begun to bruise and his shoulders had burned. 

There had also been little in the way of actual instruction, instead they had just handed him the bow and a quiver of arrows and showed him how to stand. Other than that he had to figure it out on his own and he would have been lying if he said he didn’t find it difficult. Though taking into account his lack of instruction he thought he was doing fairly well. His superiors on the other hand had made it clear they weren’t happy with his progress. By the time they were finished shooting for that day Link couldn’t curl his index and middle fingers and his arm had such deep bruising that just the fabric of his shirt rubbing against his forearm caused pain. 

It wasn’t until later that night around the dining table with the other soldiers that he learned that archers were meant to get braces to protect their arms and a special tab to help protect their fingers against the bow string. He found himself without words when he learned this new information. So he kept his head down and pushed his food around his plate, his apatite forgotten in the swirl of his own thoughts. At his next practice he asked his commander why he wasn’t given a guard and a tab and was met with a hard glare and a sneer. He was told in no uncertain terms that he must learn to feel the string of the bow before he would be allowed the luxury of a guard and tab. That day he was forced to practice archery until the sun went down, and it was the first time his fingers bled.  

From that point on Link had made it a point to learn as quickly as possible so he could earn his gear. But after months of practice that left him with bleeding fingers and bruises he found he always fell short of his commander’s impossible standards of perfection. Every missed shot led to fits of rage and even when he honed his skills to the point of out shooting his fellow knights, it never was good enough. A scoff from the commander’s laky brought his attention back on the task at hand.  

“Blood on the fletching, how disgusting,” the subordinate sneered as he handed the offending arrow to the commander. With a disgusted look of his own the commander ordered his subordinate to gather the rest of the arrows as he made his way back over to Link. He steeled himself for the tirade and surreptitiously wiped his hand on his pants and hoped it wouldn’t be too hard to get the blood out of the fabric later.   

“sloppy work Link, you can do better than this,” the commander said as he brandished the arrow in front of his face for him to examine. There was only a small smear of red on the white and blue feathers, but it was enough to be noticeable. 

“Look at this mess you left on this arrow, disgusting,” he said as he leaned forward and got into Link’s face. His breath smelled rancid and Link had to force himself to keep his face neutral in the face of his commander’s anger. 

“Not to mention you can’t even manage to hit the target’s center! You’re at fifty paces, a toddler can do better than that!” He bellowed and Link felt spittle land on his cheek. Link could feel a tight ball of rage coil like a snake in his gut and it was a challenge to keep his silent mask firmly in place. 

“And you call yourself the hero. Pathetic. How can we trust the fate of Hyrule to a hero that can’t even hit his target?” He asked and Link was sorely tempted to snap back. Instead he only blinked slowly, and let his eyebrows raise ever so slightly. The commander straightened and looked down his nose at him. His subordinate trotted up next to him and handed the arrows back over to Link. He took them mutely and placed them back in his quiver and waited for the next round of shooting to start. The subordinate looked at his hand and made a face at the small smear of blood that Link had accidently left behind. 

“Honestly can’t you keep your failure to yourself?” He drawled as he leaned forward and wiped the offending blood on Link’s shirt. Link felt the something snap in his chest and without thinking words tumbled out of his mouth. 

“Maybe if I had something protecting my fingers I wouldn’t leave my ‘failure’ on you,” Link hissed and as soon as the words left his mouth he knew he had made a terrible mistake. In one swift movement his commander shoved the subordinate aside and whipped the arrow across Link’s face. Pain bloomed across his face as the fletching on the arrow made a fine slice across his cheek. He felt a welt beginning to rise and before he could straighten the arrow was brought across his face once again and this time he felt the arrow snap from the force. He could feel a new welt rising along his jawline and tears welled up in his eyes from the stinging pain.

“How dare you speak out of turn! You are meant to be seen not heard!” The commander roared, tossing the arrow aside and fisting Link’s shirt in his hands. Link forced himself to make eye contact, staring down his commander’s rage with all the spite he could muster. Link watched as the commander’s eyes flared with renewed rage and he was flung off his feet. He hit the ground hard and before he could recover he found the tip of a blade at his throat. He couldn’t stop his eyes from widening in shock, this was a new level of rage and a small part of him wondered how far his commander was going to take his threat. The look of malicious glee that spread across his commander’s face sent a chill through him. 

“Not so uppity now are you. On your feet,” He commanded and Link slowly began to get to his feet, his eyes trained on his commander’s face. His breathing was heavy and Link watched for any change in body language that might indicate an attack. The tip of the sword followed him as he moved and when he was finally upright the tip of the sword traced the welt on his cheek that was left behind by the arrow. 

“I should have you whipped soundly for this insubordination,” The commander said softly as the tip of his sword once again found the soft skin underneath his chin. Link had to force himself to regain his neutral mask and he raised his eyes to meet his commander’s cold gray eyes. Link could handle a lashing, it wouldn’t be the first time and with his track record he fully expected to receive more. But the look in his commander’s eyes made him think a lashing would be a kind alternative to the punishment he was about to get. Link felt his heart begin to race against as he felt the tip of the blade come to rest against his Adam’s apple. After a moment of contemplation his commander smiled and removed the blade from his neck. 

“You know, you caught me in a good mood. Since you seem so determined to earn your guard and tab, you will shoot these arrows until your form is perfect.” He said with a small smile. Link felt his fingers give a painful throb at his words but he refused to show any weakness. With a curt nod and a determined glare Link inclined his head and reached for an arrow. The commander and his laky smiled evilly and moved off to the side allowing Link to knock and pull back his arrow to take aim. Link’s arm throbbed and blood dripped off his fingertips but he refused to make a sound, refused to show any signs of discomfort as he let the arrow fly.

******

The memory slowly faded away and Wild felt himself come back to the clearing. His fingers ached with the memory of the past and he had to force himself not to suck in a deep breath when he remembered he was not alone. Slowly he let his eyes wander around the camp. The others were still chatting about archery and looking around it seemed that none of them noticed that he had mentally disappeared. Wild bowed his head slightly and thanked Hylia for that small mercy. He knew he couldn’t hide his condition forever but he didn’t want the others to know just yet. A part of him feared they would toss him away if they realized he was broken in a way that couldn’t be fixed. 

As casually as he could he brought his hands together and felt along the inner knuckles of his right hand. Thick calluses lined his middle and index fingers where the bow string would sit when he drew arrows back to fire. He wondered how long he had to shoot in order to earn his tab that day, if he ever earned his tab that day. A phantom ache throbbed through the joints of his fingers and he massaged the pain away absently. Wild was so engrossed in his thoughts he completely missed how the hero of Twilight watched him out of the corner of his eye.

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Week Day 3: Wine/Chess Teaser/WIP

This one's a little rough at the moment so I'm considering it a WIP despite all the plot beats being there. I anticipate having to go back & edit a substantial amount of the phrasing but enjoy what I have of it for now! This was A LOT of fun to write. I had to learn so much about Chess to feel confident writing it & I hope it shows! I based the match they play on Grigory Serper vs Ioannis Nikolaidis' The Immortal Sacrifice Game. Click through to see it played out & analyzed by an amazing Chess Youtuber!

Anyway enjoy this teaser! & as always, if you’d like to be on my tag list to be @’d in works like this as well as my fic related stuff, give this linked post a like or send me a message. If you have any questions or suggestions, my ask box is always open! If you would like to get the rest of this fic early access, please consider subscribing to my Patreon. If you’d just like to support my work or request a writing commission, please consider donating to my Ko-Fi. Thanks so much for being an awesome audience 💛

CW: SFW sexual tension, wine Word Count: 5033 Genre: Gen Rating: Teen Ships: Loceit

Taglist: @robertdownerjr @dangitsbrightinhere @iamuncomffy @bimtrimmerr @catalinaacosta @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn @dragonfander @virgilstarantula @a-rudethude @poptartsaysurloved @serpentinesomebody @the-dead-and-the-decaying @vexelore @the-snekwhisperer-world @whatishappeningrightnow @sanderssidesangsttrash @trash-bastard @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626 @cosplayhanna @edupunkn00b​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow

“Well,” Janus concluded before finishing off his wine in a big gulp. “If he’s going to ditch me, I’m not going to do him the service of talking about him all night,” He said with exaggerated contempt, pouring himself more wine. “I know it isn’t quite rescuing Thomas from financial disaster,” Janus continued as he turned & topped off Logan’s drink. “But what would you say to a game?”

“A game?” He questioned, slowly bringing the nearly over-filled glass to his lips for a delicate sip. “I suppose that depends on what genre, though I can’t imagine your choice would be dull.” 

Janus grinned impishly. “Splendid,” The word was almost melodic as he departed the kitchen. Logan blinked & followed blindly before realizing Janus meant for them to sit in their usual spots at the table.

Without more instruction, Janus reached behind himself for a square box that leaned between the bookshelf & wall. It only took Logan a moment to realize what was happening as it was placed on the table & opened.

“Ah,” Despite himself, a small smirk curved his lips. “Are you sure you want to challenge me at Chess?” Confidence radiated off Logan suddenly as he settled in his chair. It was utterly inconceivable to him that any Side could even come close to checking him, let alone claiming an outright victory. 

“Well I figure,” Janus started, eyes focused on the task of setting up their pieces, “Monopoly & Clue are no fun without others, & I’m not quite in the mood for anything trivia based tonight, so,” He finished with a one handed shrug, meeting Logan’s eyes innocently as he took a long sip of his glass.

“I don’t think you should take this so lightly,” Logan warned in a smug tone that made Janus’ stomach warm with anticipation. “The last time Remus & I played, he swallowed his own Queen to keep from being checked again.”

“You know that hardly means anything, he’d swallow pieces for less,” Janus chuckled & Logan joined after a moment. “But don’t worry about me,” He comforted slyly as their laughter ended. He propped his elbows up on the table & folded his hands beneath his chin. “I can hold my own.”

“We will see about that,” Logan promised as adjusted forward in his seat. He gave a small movement with both hands, gesturing at the board. “White moves first.”

Janus smiled lopsidedly, gave a curt nod, & began the game. From the start, his aggression was obvious even if his face & body language said otherwise. With slow & soft hands, he moved three pawns forward, already beelining for Logan’s side of the board as he maintained a neutral expression. Logan’s movements were direct & calculated as he prepared both of his halves with two forward pawns & a defensive angle from his Bishop. Unprompted, Janus brought forward his Knight; Logan blinked & paused before meeting Janus’ eyes & mirroring the move. 

“Hm,” Janus hummed brusquely. He placed his other Knight on guard in front of his King.

“Hmm?” Logan mimicked, drawing the sound out as a question. He placed his other Knight in front of his Queen.

“Nothing,” He sang quietly with a sudden offensive move from the Knight Logan had assumed would remain defensive on his King. 

Preemptively Logan moved a pawn to set up his own attack. Janus paid no mind as he enlisted his Bishop forward. Another black pawn. Janus’ other Bishop. Carefully still playing for both sides of his board, Logan moved an opposite pawn again. Cryptically playing in the center of his, Janus went forward with another of his own pawns.

“You really shouldn’t play like that,” Janus reprimanded, breaking the surmounting tension that Logan only noticed with its absence. He leaned back in his chair, crossing an arm as he took a long sip from his glass. The edges of Logan began to go pleasantly fuzzy & the warmth in his stomach grew into a gentle hunger. “It never ends well,” Janus waved at the board.

Logan cleared his throat & reached to relieve the dryness there with his wine. Janus’ playstyle was nearly as chaotic as Remus’, he mused, but even with a neutral expression, it felt far more purposeful. What that purpose was seemed to be going right over Logan’s head. Perhaps he was giving Janus more credit than he deserved with that thought, though this was the Side that had planned their swap in April which led to an undeniable win in that discussion. Logan pursed his lips & nodded at the board.

“Let’s continue.”

Janus chuckled & splayed his fingers, welcoming Logan’s turn; which was to capture Janus’ intruding pawn with his own, only prompting Janus to quickly do the same as though that was exactly what he had been expecting Logan to do. Pawn for pawn, Logan sighed & pressed his Queen forward. Janus Castled his Queen into the corner.

“Told you so,” He whispered like a song & Logan narrowed his eyes. The harsh expression made Janus smirk despite himself, only making Logan’s frustration grow.

Firmly Logan moved his pawn forward, forcing Janus to retreat his Knight. On the offensive now, Logan attacked knowingly with his own Knight. Janus’ brow twitched as he stared at the board’s new arrangement -- did he see it? Logan watched apprehensively as the wine-greased gears in his head turned. He was one move from Check via his Knight. After a moment that passed fast enough to convince Logan Janus knew exactly what he was doing, his eyes lifted. His expression was taunting & entertained as he deliberately slid his Queen forward one space, conceding before the mess unfolded.

Logan sighed heavily with loose cheeks & leaned back against his chair, crossing his arms. Janus laughed genuinely, delight filling him to the brim.

“We can stop,” He offered while knowing Logan would never accept a forfeit like that. In response, he scrunched his face mockingly & reached for his wine, nearly polishing the glass off. Janus held up his hands, surrendering the suggestion. “Your move then, darling.”

Impatiently Logan assessed the board before sitting up & hastily shifting his pawn forward, making room behind the piece. Janus completed his defense around the right half of his board by bringing his Knight ahead again. Preparing for another attack that may have been too daring, Logan pushed his Knight back, instantly clearing a line for his Bishop which now stared directly down the barrel of Janus’ grouped pieces. He inhaled slowly.

“Your move,” Logan taunted with a smirk as Janus paused.

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