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#but i could do a garfield themed living room

thefreakandthehair · 7 months

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@eddiemonth prompt, oct 19th: Scifi/tech | Electric Eye - Judas Priest | Bewildered a/n: eddie pov, eddie & dustin friendship, dustin & steve friendship, and an excuse for me to weasel one of my favorite steve headcanons into something. un-betaed because I'm challenging myself to write these in under an hour. read on ao3 + masterpost | tumblr masterlist

After his release from the hospital and the unfortunate news that his trailer had been destroyed, Eddie goes from functionally homeless to having multiple spaces that feel like home.

He’s been all but adopted by Claudia at this point, an offer extended immediately after hearing the version of the story everyone’s agreed upon— that the ground split open and Eddie nearly ate it pushing Dustin out of the way. It’s not quite the truth, but the theme is the same and anyone who’s willing to sacrifice themself for her son is welcome any time.

Especially when he’s been called upon to help with Dustin’s science fair project. It’s out of Eddie’s league a bit, the actual science part, but he and his mechanical brain prove helpful. Kinda nice, actually, to use those hotwiring skills for good.

Of course, it also helps that the government set him and Wayne up in a modest two bedroom house down the road, and that Eddie can practically smell Claudia's cooking when the windows are open. Like Garfield, he’s drawn to the Henderson house with the scent of a fresh lasagna.

Bellies full and completed project sitting confidently on the kitchen table for tomorrow, they’re watching Star Wars movies in Dustin’s living room, one after another, and he feels just a touch like a traitor. Star Trek will always have his heart and Wayne can never know.

“How’d you get into Star Wars anyways?” Eddie asks, sprawled across Dustin’s couch.

“Can you believe Steve actually got me into them?” Dustin replies, curled up on the recliner.

There’s an infinite number of ways a child might be introduced to the Star Wars franchise— a parent, a trailer before another movie, a carrier pigeon dropping a flier at their fucking feet— and they’re all more believable than Steve Harrington introducing Dustin Henderson to the sci-fi epic.

“I’m sorry,” Eddie turns with wide eyes and a crooked grin to face Dustin. “What?”

“I know, right? It was uh, okay this is a little embarrassing.” Dustin cuts himself off, justifying some secret Eddie somehow hasn’t been told yet.

He knows about the Mind Flayer and the Russians, and all the other Dungeons and Dragons lore that’d lived beneath his feet for years. What could possibly be left to make Dustin cringe like that?

“Oh, do tell.” Eddie raises an eyebrow and gestures with an arm towards the expanse of space between them. “Floor is yours, young Bard. Spin the tale.”

Dustin rolls his eyes and throws popcorn at him. He tries to catch it in his mouth but he’s never been that coordinated.

“It’s not really a tale. A few years ago, there was this school dance, the Snow Ball. I got all amped up, Steve helped with my hair, and then the night was a total fucking dud. Nancy danced with me which was like, super awesome of her, but I felt like shit after anyways.”

Eddie listens with rapt attention, pissed off that Dustin had such a relatable middle school experience and intrigued at this new sliver of Steve lore. Not that he cares. Obviously. Why would he? The idea of Steve helping Dustin get ready for the Snow Ball doesn’t conjure up words like adorable at all.

He nods him on.

“And uh, I called Steve the next day. He came over and we had pizza and he brought some of his favorite movies he thought I’d like. Star Wars had spaceships so obviously, easy choice. And here we are now with Return of the Jedi.”

Okay, yep, that’s gonna be hard to tamp down the next time he sees Steve. Stomping his ill-advised crush into the ground beneath his Rebooks has been hard enough but now? Motherfucker.

It’s also not lost on him that Dustin chose these movies today. Eddie feels like he’s stepping into some tradition that doesn’t belong to him, but he can’t squash the kid’s enthusiasm with his own insecurity.

Instead, Eddie goes for the low hanging fruit.

“Wow. Gotta tell you man, that’s maybe weirder than finding out about the monsters and shit. Steve’s favorite movie is Return of the Jedi?”

Dustin snorts and laughs, toothless and free. Happiness isn’t new for Dustin, not anymore, but it’s still nice to see after all they’ve been through.

“Well, that’s one of them. He always calls it ‘the ones with the teddy bears’, so people assume he means Return of the Jedi. But I know the truth. That dork loves Caravan of Courage.”

Eddie flips through his mental catalog of sci-fi movies and lands on a VHS cover: a couple of humans, a few Ewoks, and something that looks like a machine gun. If he remembers correctly, it has something of a cult following but wasn’t touted as a high point in the series.

… And it’s Steve’s favorite. The one with the teddy bears.

“Wait… what?!”

#eddie munson #eddie munson fic #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie month #eddie month prompts #dustin henderson #steve harrington #steddie #stranger things #stranger things fic #stranger things fanfic #stranger things fanfiction #myblurbs

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your-regular-toast-enjoyer · 1 year

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Hello can i get headcanons for damian al ghul and garfield? How do they react to a reader who has the same ice powers as Frozen Elsa?

Damian Wayne and Garfield Logan x reader with Ice Powers

Damian Wayne x reader or Damian Wayne/reader

Garfield Logan x reader or Beastboy Wayne x reader

Word count: 3829 words

TW: GN reader, adult Damian Wayne (inspired and mostly based off of Damian in Batman beyond & Injustice 2: Gods among us), adult Garfield Logan, angst (kinda), fluff, Damian might be a TW of his own at this point...

Damian:

I imagine that you two met back in the Teen Titans, right when Damian just entered. Back then you were just kids and Damian was a well-known prick. You barely conversed for the first long while, the stories you heard from both Rachel (Raven) and Jaime (Blue beetle) made you nervous to be in the same room as the green-eyed Robin.

Damian was known for being wary of humans with powers above the natural, he had learned to not trust metahumans from his father, who had a well-known distaste for them. So, you considered it best to keep your distance from him lest he lashed out at you.

Damian doesn’t notice or care much for you either in the beginning, but he does want to be a good superhero. To achieve that goal he has to at least know and, preferably, be able to work with all of his teammates, you included.

However, as Damian tries to approach you, he realises that his reputation precedes him. You leave the room as soon as he arrives, and any time he catches you alone, you’re quick to drag in Jaime or Koriand’r as a barrier between you two.

Damian doesn’t understand why you’re so adamant about not conversing with him and he gets angry at you for being unprofessional. He tries to look at your files through a copy of Koriand’r’s hard drive, (which he made as soon as he joined the Teen Titans), and he finds very little about you. You’re a meta human with ice abilities, nothing special there, your past is a bit murky, but ultimately nothing too out of the ordinary. He finds nothing that would pit the two of you as natural enemies. What is it that you dislike so much about him?

Damian doesn’t realise that his predisposition to be cautious of Meta humans and his aggressive personality has effectively scared you off.

It might take a few years of him slowly chipping away at your defences for the two of you to actually have a proper conversation, and when you finally do, I can imagine that it is after a harsh mission.

Perhaps the mission was one of those where everyone’s lives hung by a thin thread, where one wrong move could mean the difference between life and death. You and Robin were the only ones with a chance of fighting back, the others were either held down or in such bad states that their survival afterwards wasn’t even guaranteed. You ran in with your ice powers, making slides, platforms and other useful props for Robin to use.

The two of you discover how well you actually work together. It’s not something anyone would have predicted, Damian’s aggressive attacks with his katana and your snow-themed meta abilities don’t seem like the perfect matchup. Like ketchup and ice cream, good individually but not together. Well, you were! You were a dream team, with you creating protective ice shields for Damian as he took the role of the more confrontational attacker, and together you managed to defeat the enemy which had taken down the entire rest of the team.

For the first time since getting to know each other, you both let down your guards. Damian practically runs to you after the fight, filled with so much adrenaline that he can barely contain himself as he wraps you up in a tight bone-crushing hug. You reciprocate it, so out of it and ecstatic you’ve saved your friends/second family that you don’t even remember why you were ever so apprehensive of Damian.

After the fight, the two of you slowly start to hang out around the Teen Titans tower, with and without the others. You gain a tradition of getting ice cream together every Saturday in one of the nearby parlours. Sometimes, Rachel and Jaime join you. When they do, you guys usually all go to your favourite restaurants and just relax, the four of you might be the least chaotic of the group… Although, but that's not saying a whole lot. However, it still creates an atmosphere of calmness, which ou all appreciate.

You would probably consider Damian your best friend after a while, and he feels the same way. You ironically end up becoming the person he trusts the very most on the team. Whenever there’s trouble, you two instinctively group together to solve it.

On a dark summer night, you and Damian open up to each other about your past. You pity his harsh upbringing and he makes you promise to never stop being his friend, you do, and he returns the promise. It feels nice to have someone who you can rely on, especially in a world so ever-changing as the vigilante circles.

One day, on a holiday trip back to Gotham, Damian gets into a fight with his father. It’s over something stupid, but Bruce makes a big deal out of it since it’s his youngest son. Damian becomes so enraged that he rips off the Robin logo from his costume, throwing it in Bruce’s face, before vowing to return to his mother. His father doesn’t stop him, Dick tries to convince him to stay, but Damian is too filled with wrath to think clearly. He packs his stuff, takes Titus and leaves the Wayne manor full of negative emotions.

It isn’t until he has walked around half of Gotham, waiting for his mother, whom he knows is already aware of the fight, (the assassin she sent to spy on him wasn’t discreet enough to escape Damian’s peripheral gaze), that he realises he has no way to get back to the team after this.

He calls you on a whim, he may not be able to bring the entire Teen Titans team, but maybe he’ll be able to bring you.

You pick up his call immediately and Damian is relieved, even if you’re about to refuse the offer he’ll give, at least he gets to hear your voice one last time. The offer is, of course, to join him at the League of Assassins. He covers up the real reason behind his proposition with a bunch of excuses like, “Oh, the League could really use someone with Ice powers, it’s unbearably hot in Eth Alth'eban!” or “Yeah, you’re a great fighter and with your ice meta-ability, you could be a great asset to the league”.

Damian’s excuses are a waste of time, however. As soon as you hear Damian explain why he’s leaving, you’re on board. The Titans were getting a little boring anyway.

So, both of you leave for Eth Alth'eban. Talia is initially not too keen on Damian having brought his friend. She’s all too ready to throw you back to the Teen Titans. That is until Damian explains your ice powers to her. Then she relents, she’s still not appreciative of you, but she’ll let you stay, for her son’s sake.

You start to work for the League and Damian changes from Damian Wayne to Damian Al Ghul. It’s stressful for you in the beginning, it’s a new country, a new side of the fight and you’re so far removed from your friends at Teen Titans. You never regret your decision to join Damian, but sometimes you miss what once was. On top of that, you also come to realise that your ice powers have been weakened by the new climate, it takes you quite a while until you learn how to adapt. Once you do, though, you come to realise just how strong your powers have always been.

You and Damian don’t start to become anything romantic until you’ve both turned eighteen. At this point, Damian has become the new Demon’s head, and you’re right at his side… His right-hand man/woman/person.

It starts off as small romantic and cute gestures, which makes both of you feel butterflies eating your stomachs from the inside out. Damian picking a flower and tucking it behind your ear on a mission. You do all his paperwork for him one evening and tell him with a sticky note that you’ve drawn a heart. Him baking you Baklava on your birthday. They’re small gestures, but they’re invaluable to both of you.

If any of the assassins or Talia gives you a hard time because of your powers, Damian will immediately back you up, verbally assault them and, (if they don’t back down), fight them on the spot. He doesn’t let anyone speak ill of you. If anyone ever voices discontent over your presence, Damian will take it as a personal insult.

When your romantic escapades have gone on for a while, Damian will start gifting you expensive gifts, (even if you don’t want them), it’s the Al Ghul way.

Once Damian feels he has buttered you up well enough with gifts galore and all the sweet romantic gestures he can think of, he will finally ask you out. He doesn’t bother with dates and all that, you’ve known each other for years. For Damian, dates are for getting to know people, but you two already know each other in and out, so logically he’d skip that step, they’d just be a waste of time.

Luckily for Damian, you like him too, so much so that you’re willing to skip all the steps one would usually take before calling someone their significant other.

It doesn’t take more than a year or two before Damian proposes to you. He’s afraid that you might regret a marriage with him, though, and he voices these concerns before letting you give him an answer. He looks a little pathetic as he sits on one knee on the sandy floors of the League’s barracks, ring in hand and listing all the reasons why it would be totally okay if you said no, but also attempting to convince you that he’ll do everything to not make that happen… You don’t doubt his words, you know Damian well enough to know that he’d never intentionally hurt you.

Your time spent engaged is short. Talia is horrified, at first, when she learns that you will be the one to carry the title of the Demon’s spouse, but she lets up once she starts to outweigh the pros and cons of other possible marriage candidates for her son. She will never think that you’re entirely good enough for her son, but given your strong meta-abilities, she’ll relent and even admit to you that you’re probably the best choice for her son. Don’t take her apprehension personally, it wouldn’t have mattered who you are, she simply doesn’t think anyone could ever be nearly good enough for her only son.

When you and Damian get married, you might invite your entire team to the wedding. I mean, just for one day you can bury the axe and forget that you and Damian are technically their enemies now, on what you once would’ve considered the bad side.

So, in conclusion. Damian and you would have a rocky start as a result of your powers, but you would slowly become inseparable. After your marriage, Damian would never be able to even consider a life without you.

Garfield Logan/Beast Boy:

I imagine that the two of you met while in Doom Patrol. Garfield had just lost his real parents and gotten adopted by Rita Farr (Elasti-girl) and Steve Dayton (Mento). He was in a rough place and with his meta-abilities growing at a fast pace, he was in desperate need of a friend his age. Well, you were the only one on Doom Patrol that wasn’t already an adult.

I can imagine that you had been picked up by the chief (the co-leader and advisor of the Doom Patrol) at an incredibly young age after you froze one of your family members to the point of near death. It was all an accident, of course. But your parent(s) realised that they couldn’t have you any longer after that. You were too powerful for them to handle.

You had been on Doom Patrol for a while when Garfield came along and you received him with open arms, happy to finally have someone your age to fight alongside. You two become fast friends, his chatty nature is hard to not be charmed by and he absolutely adored your personality. You helped him forget the tragedy that tore his birth parents from him, even if only for a moment and he is profoundly grateful for that.

When Mento goes insane as a result of prolonged exposure to his power helmet, joining the side of evil. Beast Boy is quick to pack his stuff, grab you and join the Teen Titans.

The breakdown of his adoptive father’s mental health is yet another blow to Garfield. First, both of his real parents died and now his adoptive father is insane and ready to kill him at any given moment. Still, in true Beast Boy fashion, he refuses to let anyone see him hurting, instead covering it up with an even more jovial attitude.

Sometimes though, late at night, he’ll knock on the door to your room. When you answer and let him in, closing the door behind you, he’ll break down and cry into your shoulder for hours. He feels like you and his adoptive mother are the only two people he has left. That is one of the reasons why he treasures you deeply.

While on the Teen Titans, your ice-wielding abilities develop massively. Starfire is your natural sparring partner, after all, she can shoot out flames, powered by the sun itself. You’ll develop a great friendship with Koriand’r, which Garfield won’t admit that he’s a little jealous of. But he quickly gets over himself when he realises that what you and he have is unlike anything you could ever gain with the other Titans.

You two know each other so well that you always order for each other in restaurants, with Garfield always throwing in a quick jab at whatever food you like. Still, he’ll both order and pay for you. As a matter of fact, I can see the two of you just sharing whatever money Rita sends Garfield and Chief sends you. The closest thing to a shared bank account for teens.

Since Garfield’s adoptive mother, Rita, was an actress back before she joined Doom Patrol, the green boy has actually picked up on her skills pretty well, being a rather good actor himself. He’ll act out the scenes of your favourite movies, expecting you to recreate some of the props in ice so that he can truly reenact the scene. The other Titans find him a little odd for doing so, but you find it delightful, that’s just how Garfield is and you’ve always enjoyed his company.

Sometimes, Garfield might ask you to make an ice rink outside, in front of the Titans tower, especially around winter time. Then, he’ll tentatively drag you out on the ice. If you can’t ice skate, he’ll teach you patiently. If you do know how, he’ll start to race you from one side to another, for hours.

The thing about Garfield is that he has endless energy, especially back when you’re both still teens. He’s used to people finding it off-putting. However, you’ve grown up with him, and you can’t imagine a world where he’s any different. Garfield is so grateful that he can simply be himself around you without worrying about scaring you away. It's one of the things that bring you guys so close together. The fact that you’re both meta-humans just adds to this sense of comfort and solidarity he feels around you as well. The other Titans sometimes envy your relationship, the way you two always have each others’ back and the way that you will sometimes just make eye contact and, as if one of you told a silent joke, burst into loud laughter that breaks up any tension that might’ve been previously.

If you have any favourite animals, he’ll constantly turn into them, just to see you smile. There’s nothing he loves more than to make his best friends, you and cyborg, laugh and smile. It makes him feel accomplished... like he isn’t totally useless or a bad omen. On rainy days he loves to turn into a soft cat, a cute rabbit or any other fluffy animal, and then curl up on your lap, relaxing as the sound of rain pelts the many windows of the Titans Tower.

As you two grow up and become adults, Garfield slowly starts to feel magnetised by you. You’re not the first one he felt like this with, there was Terra and other brief crushes, but this one is the most intense he has had yet.

Still, he is afraid of your reaction. What if you don’t like him like that? What if you go back to Doom Patrol just to get away from the awkwardness that would arrive if you don’t reciprocate his feelings? No! Garfield can’t risk losing you! You mean too much to him, you’re the only one who understands everything he feels! Losing you would be to lose his other half! … There’s also the slight fear that you might shoot icicles after him if he manages to offend you with his confession… He believes that if anyone would be able to do that, it would be him.

To cover up for his passionate crush on you, he’ll start acting goofier, and you’ll be none the wiser, (as explained before, he’s a great actor). He’ll also start to take up weirdly domestic habits like cooking for you, cleaning up both of your rooms and … sewing your suit back together after a fight? How in the world he learned that, you have no idea. It is these habits which tune you into the fact that something is off with him. You at first believe it to be a sort of coping mechanism. In reality, though, he’s trying to prove to you that he’d be a good boyfriend.

If you confront him about it, he might crack a little and admit that he simply likes you a lot and wants to help you in any way he can. I imagine that this is when you slowly start to see your old friend in a different light… Was he always that adorable? That good-looking? You never really noticed before.

Garfield will definitely be the one confessing his feelings first. It’ll be during the wind-down period after a particularly harsh mission. You and Beast Boy will be relaxing in your room, both playing video games. When you manage to beat Garfield, he pretends to accuse you of cheating. Even though you both know it’s just for fun, you still shoot a weak ice ray at his feet, in retaliation, causing him to stumble to the ground, dragging you down with him.

You’ll end up colliding with his chest and Garfield will have turned into a big and squishy animal to soften your fall, perhaps a brown bear? … Well, a green bear. When he turns back into himself, you both realise how close your faces are. When you don’t pull away, Garfield will confess on accident. Something like him whispering “You’re so beautiful, you know?” Of course, you’ll end up a blushing mess with the way he simply doubles down and keeps complimenting you. You have no flaws in Garfield’s eyes, you were simply created to be the perfect example of a person.

At the end of his rant about how wonderful you are, Garfield will finally confess, asking if you would perhaps… just maybe…if it wouldn’t be too much of an inconvenience… go out with him? He’ll rant about how he knows that his green skin might be a turn-off for you, how he knows he can be too energetic sometimes, and how he understands that he isn’t necessarily the most stable of people… But he’ll do his best to improve, he promises!

You cut his rant short, crashing your lips into his with a passion you weren’t even aware that you possessed. Garfield is so stunned that it takes him a good while to reciprocate, but when he does? Oh wow… You never realised how good of a kisser your best friend was… So good, in fact, that you totally forget to defrost his feet until he has to ask you to please do so before he gets major frostbites. You both laugh at that, but you concede to his request. After all, it’s probably not a good beginning to a romantic relationship to freeze off your boyfriend’s feet…

That’s how the two of you start going out with each other. Those in the team who have known you guys for years are not surprised in the least that you ended up together… They’re more astonished that it took so long.

You two stay together as partners for years. When you turn too old to stay in the Teen Titans, you decide to venture out as heroes on your own… perhaps you’ll rejoin Rita and the others in the Doom Patrol, or perhaps you’ll do something entirely on your own, as long as you’re together, it doesn’t matter. But on your last day with the Titans, you notice how Garfield isn’t acting like he normally does. It makes you nervous for him, you know that you two are about to experience big changes in your lives, but you’ll do them together, so you thought he would be okay with it…

Well, it turns out that your worries were unfounded because as you are about to raise a toast with your former teammates, Garfield drops down to one knee. At first, you’re unsure of what is happening, and your powers kick into gear, making the room freezingly cold, despite the warm weather outside. Then, Garfield pulls out a ring, asking you to marry him. The room’s temperature returns to normal, and without any thought given to your answer, you exclaim a loud “Yes!” quickly covering your mouth with both hands as you realise that you practically screamed it out.

Everyone is happy for the two of you, none more than Garfield’s adoptive mother, Rita Farr. When the green boy tells her the news, she cries uncontrollably from pure joy. She’ll hug you both close and congratulate you over and over, to the point where it’s almost a tad embarrassing.

Your wedding will be attended by all of your old teammates, the remaining members of the Doom Patrol and any other friends the two of you may have. It’s beautiful, and you both decided to do it during the winter, just as a quiet reference to your powers. It was Garfield’s idea. You thought it was a bit too mushy when he first suggested the idea, but it slowly grew on you, as you decorated the venue yourself with ice crystals and snowflake-inspired decorations galore. Rita helps hang everything up, she is after all Elasti-girl.

It’s a beautiful event and the two of you become a powerhouse within the vigilante circles, you’ll rarely see one without the other, and if any of your allies ever need help, they know they can count on the two of you.

#damian wayne x reader #beast boy x reader #garfield logan x reader #robin x reader #damian wayne #damian wayne x y/n #damian wayne x you #beast boy #teen titans #batboys x reader #damian al ghul

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wxshing-aep · 2 years

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I really want to kiss you (pt 2)

andrew garfield x famous! reader

One Rule Series

pt 2 to We were not eye-f*cking!

In which you shouldn’t get involved with your costar but you and andrew have a lot of trouble keeping your hands to yourself

rating: ??? mainly pg 13 but it gets a tad smutty (swearing, sexual themes, once again horny andrew and horny reader)

all characters are ages 20-22. Andrew is 21, Reader is 20. In this universe only Tobey’s spider-man movies have been made so Tom and Andrew are not spider-man. I also use current young Hollywood actors as characters so it’s basically present day except Andrew is the same age as them if that makes sense! reader’s friend group/ costars consist of andrew garfield, zendaya, florence pugh, hunter schafer, tom holland, and timothee chalamet. There’s also some background tomdaya for the sake of the plot

a/n: omg okay hi? thank you guys so much for all the love on pt 1! i’d like to make this a series but i’ll probably keep it in the sort of hc bulletpoint format and if anyone had any suggestions or requests for the andrew x costar! reader escapades or would like to be tagged in the series feel free to let me know! Also i will be making a masterlist as soon as I figure out how to do that lol.

You like to think you have pretty good self control and you do

that is until the 2 A’s are involved: Andrew and alcohol

You and your costars are currently scattered around your living room in the middle of a Cars marathon and because of Florence’s brilliant idea of taking a shot every time you hear the phrase ‘kachow’ it’s safe to say that everyone is fairly wasted

You get touchy when you’re drunk and maybe that would explain why you’re currently resting your head in andrew’s lap, platonically of course, and he’s an equally touchy drunk which would probably explain why he’s taken your left hand hostage mindlessly drawing tiny shapes in your palm and playing with your fingers, platonically of course

Somewhere between the first and second movie everyone else had fallen asleep on your couch or on the floor and as the credits roll you look up to find that Andrew’s already looking at you

“hi” he whispers and you respond with a hi back before adding an “are you tired” to which he just shakes his head and after a pause adds “I’m a bit hungry though”

So that’s how you ended up in your kitchen with andrew eating little generic sugar cookies with Christmas trees printed on them

“These cookies are quite festive but it’s a bit early don’t you think?” Andrew comments with a nudge to your side

“It’s never too early”

“It’s literally June. By all rules of holiday timing that is entirely too early”

“Yea but rules kinda suck.” Your statement immediately reminded him that he probably shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing right now as your director’s words play back in his head. ‘Don’t get involved with your costars. Keep it in your pants’

So he definitely shouldn’t be standing this close to you. Or looking at you like that. Or thinking about you way he is right now. “Yea rules kinda do suck” but he takes a step closer to you anyways

It’s right about then that you realize how close he is to you but neither of you make any moves to distance yourselves

“We could uh- we could go watch another movie” you offer to try and get your mind off of how close he is and how good he looks and how he’s now sporting a black tank and some shorts and his biceps are on display and shit since when were his arms that-

“We could. We could. Or ya know not because I’ve uh I mean I’ve seen them all already so it might just be a waste of time” his voice was low and gravelly and god he’s so hot

“You’ve seen all the movies?” You ask causing him to nod his head up and down

“mhmm. mhmm I’m really really into movies. Big movie guy but um didn’t you say you got that new Spiderman video game we could play that if you want” he is kinda just rambling now because at some point his hand had found your hip and you once again made no move to distance yourself and his eyes keep trailing down to your lips and he thinks you might have the prettiest lips he’s ever seen and-

“We could. Or not because I’m alarmingly good at that game so compared to me you’d suck and I wouldn’t want to hurt your ego”

“Oh, how kind of you” he teases

“I know I’m a saint, but if they ever decide to make another movie you’d probably make a hell of a spiderma-“

“I really want to kiss you” oh. He nearly surprised himself with how bold his statement was and you realize that you’re now nose to nose. And your eyes travel from his eyes to his lips and back. don’t get involved with your costars. don’t get involved with your costars. don’t get involved with your costars. “but if I kiss you” he continues “I don’t know if I’ll be able to stop kissing you”

Fuck it

You grab him by the shirt and pull him into you closing the gap as your lips meet

He responds instantly and suddenly he’s everywhere: his hands on your body as he backs you up against the counter, his lips on yours, and his hands drop down to your ass giving it a light squeeze as his tongue enters your mouth

Andrew thinks he’s died and gone to heaven. His mind has gone fuzzy: being this close to you, actually holding you in his arms, finally getting to know what your lips taste like after months of sneaking glances at them when you’d talk with him for hours on set

His hands travel down to your thighs to lift you onto your kitchen counter without breaking the kiss

Your lips move down to his neck earning a whimper from him that makes you weak in the knees

“fuck y/n” he moans barely above a whisper and you think you might spontaneously combust on the spot

His hands find the buttons of your pajama top before lifting your head up so you’re face to face again

“Is this okay?” He asks playing with the buttons of your shirt and you nod giving him the okay to remove your top

“Wow” he says with wide eyes when he discovers that you’ve decided to go braless for the night and his eyes are glued to your bare chest

“so are you just gonna stare or-“ you tease. He takes in a deep breath before responding “sorry they’re just like perfect so I feel like I just need to commit them to memory” after a pause he adds “okay I’m good” and brings his right hand up to grope at your boobs, kneading them in his palm, thumb brushing over your hardening nipple as he returns lips to yours occasionally kissing down to your chest to suck a nipple into his mouth

You slide your hands under his shirt and he takes the hint that you want it off and separates from you briefly to pull it over his head

“Wow” you return back ogling his shirtless body. “you want a minute to commit it to memory?” He asks. You wrap your legs around his waist and pull him back into you and drag your hands down his chest resting them on his abs. “Mm I’m more of a hands on learner myself” you respond pulling him into another kiss

You’re not sure how long you’ve been making out at this point but his hands are starting to play with the waistband of your shorts causing you to giggle and pull away from him. “Maybe we should move this somewhere else. People eat on this counter ya know.” You suggest and without missing a beat he counters with “oh don’t worry, I definitely plan on eating something” your eyes widen and he just continues “but I kinda really want you to sit on my face and I guess that’d be kinda hard on the counter”. You weren’t expecting him to have such a casually dirty mouth but you definitely were not complaining

He’s just about to lift you off the counter when you’re interrupted by a light turning on in the hallway and the sound of footsteps and you are suddenly aware of how naked you are in your kitchen with a man that you’ve been making heart eyes at for months: definitely not a situation that you can ‘it’s not what it looks like’ your way out of because frankly it’s exactly what it looks like

There’s not much time to look like you weren’t just doing what you were doing but you manage to hop off the counter, Andrew shielding your body with his as he hands you his shirt to put on

In a few seconds, a shirtless somewhat disheveled looking Tom rounds the corner letting out a startled “oh shit” when he sees the two of you, not really expecting you to be standing in your kitchen in the middle of the night. “Sorry guys I was uh- I was just uh-“ it’s at about this moment that Tom fully registers that Andrew is just standing there, shirtless, and his attention is then brought to you who just so happens to wearing the shirt that Andrew was wearing earlier. You can practically see him putting the pieces together in his head as he takes in both you and andrew’s flustered appearance and spots your discarded pajama shirt on the floor before returning his attention to the two of you with a slight smirk on his face knowing that he’s been teasing Andrew about his crush on you for months but he didn’t know if he’d ever make a move. Andrew is red in the face looking guilty as ever and you wonder how this is the same guy. that had just shamelessly told you he wanted you to sit on his face.

“Any reason why you’re shirtless in y/n’s kitchen, Andrew?” He asks smug as ever. Andrew is quick to try to come up with an excuse. “Look mate, we were just-“ “oh I know what you were doing”. Tom interrupts sending a wink Andrew’s way. It’s not until now that you begin to take in Tom’s appearance.

“Is there any reason why you’re shirtless in my kitchen Tom?” You ask. Tom suddenly fumbles for a response “oh uh ya know just uh wandering around, such a lovely house the show runners put you up in y/n. Love what you’ve done with the place. Looks real ni-“ Tom is interrupted by a voice from the hallway “Tom what’s taking you so lo- oh shit. Heyyyyy guys” Zendaya says entirely too suspiciously as she enters the room wearing Tom’s shirt.

You and Andrew shared a look. oh you were gonna have some fun with this.

“I like the shirt Z, where’d you get it” Andrew starts. Tom is quick to jump in “Look, we were just-“ “oh we know what you were doing” you interrupt now with the same smug attitude tom had earlier.

“Okay how about this” Z starts “we didn’t see you. you didn’t see us.”

“Deal.” You respond immediately but also shoot each her a look that says ‘we will talk about this later’. “Guest bedrooms are upstairs”

“Oh we already found them but uh could you get me a water from the fridge” tom asks and Andrew opens the fridge and tosses a water to Tom. “Use protection” you comment teasingly as they turn to leave.

“We’re just sleeping y/n, but as for you hope you don’t choke on his dick” Z teases back. “Hope you do choke on his” you respond earning you a laugh from. Tom and Andrew and a middle finger from her as she follows Tom up the stairs mumbling a “there’s nothing going on between us my ass” in reference to your earlier conversation.

After a moment you go to pick up you shirt from the floor and stand back up to feel Andrew’s strong pair of arms wrap around your waist and his lips meet the shell of your ear

“so... where were we?”

read part 3 here!

#andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x female reader #andrew garfield x you #andrew garfield imagine #andrew garfield x famous! reader #famous!reader

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nautiscarader · 3 years

Text

Year of the cow, or how I stopped worrying and loved the meme (BBRae)

Beast Boy's and Raven's relationship is truly one of the most subtle and emotional ones I have seen. There are lots of fantastically written fics which dive deep into characterisation and their nuanced, complicated emotions, showing complex colours of the spectrum of love.

Unfortunately, you have made a mistake clicking on one of my fics.

This is a birthday present for my buddy, ZekkKiray, and it revolves around a meme which I really found irritating... And I wondered how other characters might have reacted to it. Happy birthday, man!

yes, still half hour till midnight in my time zone, made it.

BBRae, 4k, E, (Ao3)

==========

As the Sun slowly hid on the horizon, Jump City, just like every city and town in the world, was slowly preparing for a glorious celebration. People were ready to welcome the new year with dances, parties and optimism encouraged by copious amounts of alcohol.

But not everyone was interested in partying and throwing caution to the wind. Five superheroes traversed the town's rooftops, watching over many celebrations, and ideal breeding grounds for crime, big or small.

Robin, Starfire, Cyborg, Raven and Beast Boy set out to patrol the city, to ensure that this momentous occasion won't be disturbed by any wrong-doer...

And quite quickly decided to join the party. Well, some of them. Robin sighed when he realised that his team has disbanded to join the crowd of onlookers, cheering and applauding the band on the colorful stage, that would soon be replaced by another group, hired just to play one or two hits for some quick cash.

Raven stayed to the side as well, keeping her eye not only at her friends, but the crowd, though her attention was suddenly caught by the dancers on the stage. Three women, dressed in black-and-white horned costumes, performing a synchronised dance, much to the delight of the audience.

- Er, and what exactly is that? Some sort of fad...?

- Oh, no, friend Raven! - Starfire was eager to explain - Robin has told me it's a Chinese calendar! And the Chinese have chosen an animal to represents each year, and...

- Oh, yeah, right. - Raven interrupted her - And lemme guess, this year's a cow?

- Ox, technically. - Robin chimed in - And it's not even started yet, it's based on a lunar one, so it will be somewhere in February.

Raven looked at the women in their silly costumes, dancing and playfully jiggling their fake udders and cow-bells to the beat of the music.

- Meh, whatever, it's gonna be over soon. Oh, by the way, this guys was pickpocketing. - Raven spoke nonchalantly, her shadow coiling around a burly man's throat.

By January fourth, however, Raven was seeing cows everywhere. Television, billboards, the internet... especially the internet. She felt as if it was a single-themed Halloween party that somehow stretched to a week.

And the boys weren't helping. While Robin remained reasonably level-headed, Cyborg and Beast Boy were having times of their lives, enjoying every single appearance of the costumes in real life, or in any media.

The worst thing was, Raven wasn't even sure why the fad irritated her so much. There were much more asinine things out there. But something about that fad was driving her nuts.

At the very least, there was Starfire, who sometimes was able to understand her.... or so Raven thought until she returned one day from the market with plastic cow-horns on her head a bell around her neck.

Raven groaned at the sight of his friend and stormed out of the common room, pushing away few streamers, still lingering after the new year's party.

She closed door to her room behind her and embraced the darkness and silence that allowed her to meditate and focus her powers...

And then she heard the faint jingling of the cowbells from behind the wall.

The purple flames on the candles around her shot up to the ceiling, as Raven tried to control her irritation.

She barked and grabbed her mirror, disappearing into her private void that extinguished the flames she ignited.

Raven walked down the floating rocks that paved her dimension, encased in darkness, illuminated by just few stars and distant galaxies. The ravens flew away in fear, as she glided forward, hoping to find some peace and quiet here...

- Hiya!

But of course, in this realm, she was never truly alone.

A woman dressed in pink jumped from behind a nearby rock, causing Raven to cease her movement just for a while, before she promptly decided to ignore her own emoticlone.

- Oh come on, you haven't been here for ages! - the jovial embodiment of happiness continued - We've been having SO much fun here!

- Great. Leave me alone.

But before she could react, Pink grabbed her and steered her off-path, flying down a different route, loudly announcing their presence.

- Hey guys. looks who's here! - she shouted, waving the arm she wasn't using to maneuver Raven between rocks.

- Oh, great, our big sister... - the Orange mumbled from behind a couch-shaped rock

- Have-have we done something wrong? - the timid Graphite pulled over her cloak

- Judging from your prolonged absence, something extraordinary must have happened. - Yellow interjected, eyeing Raven with curious stare.

Raven let out another groan.

- It's nothing. Leave me-

- Oh, is it about you-know-who?

Violet's sly and suggestive voice prompted Raven to pause mid-turn. her eye twitched.

- Ooh, very brave of you to tackle the most common problem of your visits! - Green added at once. - He can be annoying...

- I've said...

A blast of energy erupted around her, as Raven turned away, but couldn't finish her sentence. There was one emotion left, and she knew very well what can summon her, and it was already too late.

- Come on, say it.

Red spoke, gleaming with a subtle, yet unmistakeable triumph in her voice.

- I'm done with you. - Raven answered and continued her walk, before being predictably stopped again

- Oh sure, is this why you have almost brought me back? - she sneered - And for such petty reason...

- Ooh, tell us, tell us! - Pink chimed in, before being brought aside by Yellow

- Let me do it...

Red spoke and spread her arms, giving the other emoticlones chance to glimpse into what little she have seen.

- That... that is quite an insignificant reason to bring back *her* - Yellow judged - Are you sure it's adequate?

- I'm just afraid this will backfire... - Graphite meeped from behind her

- But I was right - Violet added - It is about him...

- ENOUGH!

Raven burst with energy, silencing her living emotions.

- We just want you to say it, so we can... help you.

The Red emoticlone stood in her way, finally making her stop. Her presence cast a shadow of fear on the lesser creatures of this realm, and even some other emoticlones that dared not to approach her. Red's voice was strangely polite, though Raven knew she must have an ulterior motive behind it.

- And you know what the answer to your problem is.

Anger reached her arm and waited for Raven's response. She couldn't meet her eyes. She was right, of course, but at the same time, embracing the violent and unpredictable part of her nature, reminding her of her father's legacy filled her with disgust...

- But you will not be alone with it. - Violet suddenly joined.

- And while it may look odd, this might be an opportunity to broaden your horizons. - Yellow continued.

- And let's face it, you've done weirder things, but you never cowered away! - Green shouted.

- Besides, it's gonna be so much fun! - Pink smiled.

Raven lifted her hood and looked at the other emoticlones, all awaiting her decision.

Knowing she's delaying the inevitable, with a heavy sigh, Raven made her decision.

===============

Garfield knew better not to interrupt Raven. He has made that mistake a few times in his life, and he still had his life only because Raven was his friend.

Still, seeing her angry was painful, thought not as much as the silent treatment he was getting from her. Beast Boy hesitated for a moment, and just before he was about to knock on her doors, he stopped himself.

With a sigh, he turned around and returned to his room, finding someone already inside.

At first, Garfield thought he was dreaming. But after a few blinks, he realised that the marvellous, dreamy sight in front of his eyes was real, and it made his heart skip a beat.

Raven's trademark, dark-blue attire was gone, replaced by a white costume dotted with black-and-brown spots. Her long legs were covered in fishnets with the same pattern, and as his eyes travelled up, he realised what was exerting the gravitational force that was pulling him that way...

The skin-tight costume had changed his perception, perhaps, but even then, Raven' nipples were just a fraction of an inch away from slipping, as her breast were simply too big to stay hidden in any article of clothing.

And when he looked at her horned head again, he noticed a faint smile on her face, contrasting so much with her demeanour over the past few days. She shifted her legs, spreading them slightly, giving him just a small tease of what was to come, and with her eyes fixated at him, she spoke.

- Moo, I guess.

- Oh, momma!

And before she knew it, Beast Boy leapt onto her with the grace and agility of a frog, diving between her enlarged breasts, and feeling the delicate, cushioning texture engulf his head almost entirely. And at the same time, with his fingers digging into the material, he freed Raven's breasts, hungrily kissing each square inch of her body as if his life depended on it.

- Gar... - Raven moans, feeling her boyfriend wriggling against her bosom

- I see someone has changed her mind...

- You can say that... - Raven replied, hiding the moan that was about to escape her lips.

- I guess you took Starfire's approach and visited the market? - Beast Boy joked, between his kisses - Or, wait, no, you ordered it online so no one will know, right?

- Let's just say I didn't have to order it...

For a moment, Beast Boy pondered the meaning of her words, until he realised that he has seen her outfit once before. Well, without the black-and-brown blots. And as the realisation dawned on him, he let out a gasp, as Raven's eyes glowed white.

Only one of the spots was brown. There was a pink, yellow, green one...

Her most powerful form, the combination of all of her emotions sat on his bed, emanating raw magical, warm energy that could easily vaporise him if she wanted to. Beast Boy suspected the horns weren't plastic either, and that he has just made a few snarky jokes to a demonic sorceress orders of magnitude more powerful than him.

And yet, she was still smiling.

- I just... - Raven swallowed - Couldn't stand you ogling all those cartoon anime girls on-line, in their stupid cow costumes. So I had to fight fire with fire.

- Aww... - Beast Boy cooed - Is my Raven jealous?

- YES. - the demon spoke in deep, rumbling voice that shook some of the objects on the shelves.

The spots on her White costumes suddenly glowed with ominous, red aura, as blood in Garfield's veins froze.

Her face was inches away from his, and only when she felt his hastened breath, she calmed down, and her spots returned to their original colours, just as the red aura disappeared from her eyes. She reached her hands and cupped his face, glad that he did not back away, as her anger overtook her. Their lips met, and Raven poured her apologies into him in a long, delicate kiss.

- And you will have to pay for it. - she smiled, giving Garfield clear sign she was everything under control, including him.

- Rae... - Garfield whined - You-you know I'd never... they... they don't mean anything...

- Then prove it.

Raven used the moment of hesitation to engulf him and with one sharp move of her hands and her magic, she ripped his clothes to shreds and brought her lover closer to her. With his shorts gone, Raven's eyes fixated on his cock, and had to restrain herself from licking her lips, as its head came closer and closer to her face. But of course neither of them would settle on just a blowjob, given the magic Raven cast upon herself.

Beast Boy jumped onto her breasts again, peppering them with plethora of hungry, ravenous kisses. Knowing already her bosom by heart, he know had a whole new territory to explore, and he did that with impeccable dedication. But as his lips closed around her nipple, he received a taste of something unexpected. His eyes widened, and met hers, as sweet substance made contact with his tongue. The sly smile on her lips remained, but as Beast Boy began lapping her milk, her face was torn with a new grimace he hasn't seen yet, and Raven was more than eager to experience.

Garfield moved from one nipple to the other, wishing he could transform into some creature with two heads. As Raven squirmed and moaned underneath him, he wondered what will happen soon, and with his hand manoeuvring between her thighs, he was determined to discovered that.

Her back arched, as his fingers reached her wet spot and slipped underneath her costume, just as his tongue coiled around her nipple again. Though she was trying to contain her emotions, the spots on her costume glowed in violet with each kiss and delicate move of his fingers against or inside her sex, and soon, Raven was thrashing underneath him, ready to burst.

And when she did, it was not with energy, but with milk that filled Beast Boy's mouth, in an act that surprised both of them.

Raven quaked for a few more minutes, coating his fingers with her juices he now lapped as eagerly as the new one she produced for him. Beast Boy made sure to wait until she was looking at him when he licked his lips, tasting both.

- Come'ere, I'm thirsty too... - she huffed, and settled herself amongst the pillows, ready to invite him.

Beast Boy let out a dreamy sigh, as his cock slid between her breasts, engulfing him completely with the delicate, heavenly texture only her breasts could provide. And when Raven gently pushed her mounds together, she added the missing part of friction, making Beast Boy throw his head back, even though he hasn't moved an inch.

But as he looked down at his girlfriend, he met her unusually frisky eyes, and with that, he flexed his muscles. Next thing she knew, his hands were on her horns, and he pushed his hips forward, diving deep into her bosom.

His action was a bit sudden and Raven's eyes opened wide when she realised that her head was pulled forward and that his twitching tip was now a fraction of an inch from her lips. And as she was about to open them, he pulled back and began his thrusts, mewling and moaning with each one, as pleasure slowly engulfed him.

He was in trance, brought by the alluring sight of his girlfriend and her magically enlarged bosom and thge reward they were leaking. And as Raven promised, she wanted one of her own: now, with every rapid thrust, her tongue lapped a drop or two of his pre-cum, in turn only generating more samples of what was to come. Raven was pretty sure what was his plan, but she opened her lips wide anyway, hoping to catch at least some of his oncoming climax.

- Rae...Rae... I LOVE YOU!

And with that proclamation, beast Boy dived balls-deep between her magically enlarged breasts, letting her warmth and size cover them as well, which only strengthened his orgasm. Raven yelped when the first stream of his seed flooded her mouth, and closed her mouth just in time to suck a bit more, even though she knew what was the sight he wanted to see.

As he pulled back, his cock was still twitching, spurting more and more of his virility in the valley between her mounds, until it slowly started to spill down, glazing her breasts with the sticky proof of his devotion.

And just as he thought he has seen it all, Raven dragged her finger across her breasts, hoping to catch as much of his cum as possible before it all drips to the bed. she parted her fingers to show the sticky strands between them before she closed her lips around them and made him collapse to his back from the simple act of tasting him.

- That was fun - she spoke, as most of his seed made it to her lips. - But you know what every cow needs, right?

Raven asked, lapping the last bit of cum from her tits. She leaned forward and with the same low, salacious tone as before, whispered the words that Beast Boy already had on his mind.

- Her bull...

His green body grew in a split of second, transforming him, but not in the form of the animal Raven expected. While his head became elongated and grew bovine horns, his torso and arms remained human, though much more muscular, and only the addition of hooves on his legs and a tail truly made her realise what he was now: a minotaur.

But of course, hooves and tail was not what piqued Raven's interest the most, as her eyes looked down at the figure towering over her.

This time, she could not stop herself and her lust; Raven licked a small droplet of drool that formed on her lips, and reached her hand to experience the enormous, throbbing organ whose glistening head was now once more inches away from her lips.

But her lover didn't want another blowjob. As steam-like cloud escaped his nostrils, Beast Boy grabbed her and effortlessly slammed her onto his cock, watching as the sorceress lets out a silent moan.

When he went down on her, Raven tried to maintain at least some dignity. But now, as her sex was filled completely with his monstrous cock, she threw all of the pretence away and babbled her lover's name, while the blots on her costume pulse violet each time his cock reached her depths, time after time, depraving her of common sense, as bliss slowly overtook her mind.

But not until she has managed to speak one last wish.

- D-Do what you are supposed to!

Raven screamed, her voice vibrating with the erratic thrusts her entire body was subjected to.

- Mate me! Breed me!

Another roar escaped his mouth, and Raven took a gasp of air just in time to expel it, as Beast Boy shoved himself deeper inside her throbbing pussy that before, firmly positioning himself as far as possible, right against her core, he now bathed in first deluge of his seed. And with his thick, monster cock forming an air-tight seal, not a drop of his virility could leak out, and was forced up into her womb. What would have been impossible for any other man became a child's play for him, letting Raven experience the impossible.

And with the flood of his warm seed filling her, came her orgasm, making Raven thrash around his cock, as if she was a puppet on his mercy. With each wave that flooded and promptly overflowed her sex, came a new sensation of being filled and claimed, and in turn, each simultaneously extinguished fire in her loins, and set it anew...

At some point, Raven fell back to the bed, feeling her pussy pulse with each after-wave of her climax, while Beast Boy's seed oozed onto the bed. She wasn't sure how long her after-glow lasted, but she knew what brought her back to her senses.

Her breasts were kissed again, with the same tender and care the minotaur would never learn. Beast Boy was his regular self, taking care of her body his monstrous form has neglected, listening to her breath slowly becoming less and less erratic.

She looked up and their eyes met, while Garfield locked his lips around her nipple again, drinking her orgasm.

- Hey.

- Hey. - she replied - I guess people were right, those cow costumes do work.

- Rae, you could dress like a platypus and you'd be sexy.

Raven smiled, and her hand reached to her lover's cheek, prompting him to leave her nipple.

Their lips met again, and though she thought she would be tired by now, she welcomed him again, especially as his hands now roamed her thighs and ass.

She let out another moan, seemingly far louder than a moment before, but maybe it was because her voice wasn't drowned by the beast's low grunts, but Garfield's borderline cute huffs.

And even though he was now much shorter and thinner than before, somehow Raven felt fuller than when a giant minotaur ravaged her. Maybe it was his kisses, dotting her breasts and lapping her milky fluid, maybe it was his delicate, but steady grip of his hands on her thighs... or maybe it was the unspoken promise they mentioned...

As they kept coming closer, the empath suddenly grabbed his cheeks and pulled him against her, not to kiss, but to find emotions raging in his mind. And she found them - those of love, protection, dedication and responsibility, which easily pushed her to the edge...

She cried out his name just as he flooded her again, this time with his essence, and even though Raven knew it was impossible, she somehow felt the difference in warmth that filled her sex.

As the two breathed in the same air, Raven gently moved her hand between her body, feeling the warmth of his body above her, and his cock and seed inside. She could undo the spell right now, and change their lives forever... And she had to admit, it would be a very apt moment... but then again, she would rob them of many, many heated moments like these.

It's a good thing she buddied up with Yellow as much as with Violet for this ride.

The two lay ion each other's arms for quite some time, savouring each other's scents and warmth, until Raven found strength and motivation to speak.

- So, got any more silly internet memes trending?

Beast Boy smiled and reached for his phone.

=============

Winter this year was snow-less, rainy and mild, like for the past half a decade or so. But that only made the New Year's eve less cumbersome, as it meant less time traversing through mounds of snow. Plus, it meant the Titans' Tower rooftop wasn't off limits.

- I thought this place, at this time would be the worst to meditate. - Beast Boy spoke - The whole sky's gonna be on fire in five minutes.

- Yeah, but maybe I wanted to watch.

He sat next to her, listening to far-away sounds of concerts and premature celebration. He scooted a few inches closer to her, and let out a short meep when her cape covered him.

- I wonder what this year will bring us. - he spoke, ruining the quiet, charming moment.

- I do - Raven answered quickly. - This year is gonna be of the tiger.

Raven spoke and undid a button of her cape that joined the two, freeing her breasts. Beast Boy swallowed loudly, seeing the moonlight shining onto her skin, and making her bosom look bigger with no additional magic required.

- Why don't we practice, kitty?

And with that, the night's air was filled with a powerful roar of a predator cat that has just found its very willing prey.

#bbrae #lemon #aged-up characters and all that #nautiscaraderfics

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angelisverba · 5 years

Text

i’ll hold you so you don’t fall again

in which y/n is just really creative and harry writes erotica under a pseudonym.

pairing: interiordesing!y/n and eroticawriter!harry

word count: 21k+

note: i’m so freaking sorry this took so long. thank you for being patient with me, and i hope its what you expected :) also the formatting is all wonky i have no idea why.

Y/n wasn’t one to brag.

She knew what it felt like to sit and nod while someone else talked about their accomplishment. The itchy pull of heart strings; the yearning of wanting success, too.

But, she also knew how awkward it was to go back and forth declining compliments.

Which is why she never bragged about her newfound success. Or did the whole ‘oh you’re too sweet’ ordeal. She said thank you, and moved on.

Because it definitely was one.

A sudden change of no recognition to suddenly everyone wants her.

She had her friend, Lucy, to thank. Lucy had just opened up a coffee shop. One of those cute artsy ones on a street in West Hollywood somewhere, with money she had saved up over the years. It just so happened that her best friend was a talented painter, designer, and dabbled in all kinds of crafts. Y/n was known for always maintaining a tiny business of whatever it was she could come up with, and when her friend asked for help to decorate and set up shop, she jumped at the opportunity to go big.

The store was a loft-y type space. A blank, grey walls and metal; an industrial room. The first time Y/n looked at it, her mind flooded with ideas. Mirrors, art, frames, flowers, and anything that could be put up. Different themes and approaches to light up the room. But, before doing anything, she had a nice long talk with Lucy, about what she wanted to see. Had her set up a pinterest board with items for the shop. Color schemes, movies, plants, etc. From that, y/n took hold of the project, asking for Lucy’s opinion here and there, but taking most choices to her own judgement.

The end result… well, it was the reason why Lucy was full all the damn time. Y/n had turned the lofty space into an Instagram hippie galore. Lucy’s mood board consisted of a weird mix of Madonna, pearls, and David Bowie. So, all over there were some of the most famous pop-culture posters. Streams of pearls. Mason jars lined with pearls. Velvet curtains with golden tassels; the stringy ones that tickled when you rub them all over your palm. There were light bulbs and fairy lights hanging in the wooden beams from the ceiling, that were turned on everyday 30 minutes after sunset, like the headlights on cars. Additional records were set to look through and buy in a corner, and opposite that a jukebox with records that both y/n, Lucy, and Lucy’s boyfriend, Mike, had picked. The labels were written in y/n’s writing, a mix between curly-cue and messy doctors cursive; clean enough to read, messy enough to enjoy.

No plants. Or succulents, at least, but y/n had bought 5 dozens of roses from downtown. She’d hung them up to dry, left some where they were, and others she put in empty glass cola bottles that were in the center of each of the 10 booths. On the single, middle tables, y/n had placed leather table cloths. No flowers.

And the menus? Oh gosh, the menus. They were y/n’s pride and joy.

She’d closed herself in an entire day, to create the finishing look. With a copy of drinks (labeled like ‘Madonna’ and then the actual coffee order that star would’ve wanted) and the small variety of sandwiches (& other finger foods) y/n drew portraits on blackboards, used different fonts, painting mediums, and at a certain point even incorporated glitter, to create these magnificent hand drawn chalk menus.

Then the outside of the shop. This is what got her word out.

A journalist of some sort had happened to stumble upon Coffee for Rockstars the day that y/n was painting the windows.

You know, like with a brush and paint can.

She’d blocked off her workspace with chairs and caution tape, jammed her newly bought airpods in, and pressed play to her music.

The mural- Lucy labeled it, but to y/n it really wasn’t all that much, consisted of a the planet Saturn, with David Bowie, Elton John, Prince, Stevie Nicks, Freddie Mercury, and The Beatles prancing along the rings (all picked by Lucy). The window was a 5-or-so feet taller than her, so she had to use one of the chairs to reach the top half of the planet.

While she painted Elton’s fluffy feather suit on, the journalist had approached her, his waist pushing through the tape y/n had put up.

“Excuse me?” he called out to her, hands positioned on one of those Canon Rebel whatever they were called everyone seemed to be carrying around these days.

And Wild Night by Van Morrison may have been playing a little too loud because y/n didn’t hear him the first time, and he had to call out again, leaning forward slightly to catch her attention.

“Excuse me?” The guy says a little louder. This time, she sees him, and turns while removing her headphones, getting paint on her forehead and hair.

“Oh!” she said, startled. “How can I help you?” Her cheeks flame a bit when he gives her a boyish smile, lips twirling up to the corner of his eyes. He’s cute, she thinks, floppy hair that’s sunbleached at the tips from the sun, and freckles in the bridge of his roman nose.

“Yes, actually. My names’ James. I was wondering if I could take your picture for an article I’m doing. I work with the LA times, in the local business section, and there's a piece on West Hollywood’s hottest places. This one’s trending.” He lifts his camera in a ‘here it is!’ gesture.

“Me?” she asked in disbelief. Her eyebrows raised high above their usually places, and her eyes nearly popped out of their sockets. “Shouldn’t you be photographing inside? You know, like the people?”

“You worked on this place didn’t you? That’s what Lucy told me. You’re a big part of what makes this place hot ‘n trendy. Plus, this live painting action will look wonderful…” he trailed off, his glance drifting to the window and to the picture she was painting. “It’s really good. Deserves some recognition.”

“Uhm…” Y/n looks around. There’s people on the opposite street staring at her, some that linger as they walk by. She catches a window roll down as the car goes by.

She’s always been small. In size, in popularity. She’s never been in demand. If she said yes, there's a possibility that that would change. A small part of her wanted that… she could finally start her business, like she’s always wanted to...

“Okay, how do you want me?”

He laughed, and told her to just continue with what she was doing. So, she did. She added more paint to her glass palette, and unprofessionally used her bare thigh to rid the brush of the excess paint. Momentarily, the brush found its way to the bite of her teeth, so the girl could put her earphones back in and get back into the right headspace to work.

The journalist, chuckled as he watched her, amused by her tactics, how she leaned back to look at the bigger picture. He was done in a matter of minutes, taking pictures of everything she’d set up in her closed off area. The tarp she’s laid on the floor. The cans of paint; red, blue, yellow, green, white, and black. An uneaten sandwich and a glass bottle filled with pink liquid (lemonade and a bit of vodka, y/n’s choice of drink when she was painting, claiming it got her ‘creative juices flowing’).

He has to get her attention again the same way, because she’d managed to lose herself in what she was doing.

“You’re all done?” she asked him, once again plucking the earphone out with a yank.

“Yep, got more than enough.” James said, placing a black cap on the lens of his camera. “Can I ask you a few questions?” Y/n smirked a bit, thinking back to her school days when smartass teachers would respond with ‘i don’t know, can you?’ and she nearly did as well.

She didn’t though. She just said, “Go right ahead.”

“Well, first thing’s first,” he reached into his front pocket, and pulled out his phone. Who keeps their phone in their front pocket, she thought. “Name, age, and what you did for Rockstar’s cafe?”

“My name is y/n, I’m 21, and I was interior and, as you can see, exterior, designer as well for Rockstar Cafe.” She’s shifting awkwardly side to side, tugging at the ends of her large, orange Garfield shirt nervously. Flashes of her jean cut-offs peeked where her shirt lifted.

“Tell me a little bit about the process of creating the entire ‘astro-70’s’ vibe you got going on here are the shop.” James doesn’t look up at her, because he’s furiously typing away at his phone, noting down what y/n says.

“Well, that was really Lucy’s doing. She provided me with pictures of things she wanted, kinda like… uhm.. that aura? I guess you could say that she wanted the place to have. I worked side by side with her, to make this happen. This was her vision, I just helped it....” she struggled for a moment, to put her thoughts into words, “come to life.”

He looked up at her then, a small smile on his lips. “What’s your favorite thing about it so far?”

“I’d say, the way the menu is set up. An artist’s name, and the drink they’d get. Lucy did her reasearch, and found out like, I guess you could say, their ‘regulars’. So, what’s on the menus are what the artist actually would like.” Subconsciously, she points to the inside of the shop, referring to the menus.

“Last question, have you ever done anything like this before?”

Y/n stammered for a moment, then said, “No. I haven't.” She taps the tips of her shoes together, all paint splattered and scuffed. “Nothing at this level of big. I’ve always kinda, worked on crafts. In highschool I had a small business, where’d I’d sell personalized things. I think that’s why Lucy trusted me so much. Because I have a history of reaching to the stars when it comes to paper and pencil.”

“That was great. Thank you so much, y/n. It was interesting to hear about you, and the cafe.” James places his phone back in his front pocket, and hooks his thumbs onto the straps of his camera as if they were suspenders. “Is there a website or business card you’d like me to reference in the article, after your name and all that?”

“I don’t have anything like that actually. Just that I worked with Lucy, I guess you could say.” She puckers her lips at the end, shaking her head slightly.

“Okay, well then. I’ll leave you to it. It’s coming along amazing.” James nods politely. “Have a great rest of your day, y/n.” Then walks away.

“Bye, James.” She twiddles her fingers at him her way of saying goodbye. It doesn’t take her long to get sucked back into her work. In fact, as soon as she puts the earphones back in, she’s gone off the face of the earth, and doesn't notice when a green-eyed stranger stops to stare at her, right by the tree that she’d wrapped the caution tape around. The man pinched his lip as he watched, eyebrows furrowed with the same concentration y/n had for her work.

Except that he was watching her. The way her wrist flicked, how she tilted her face to look at what she was doing. How she stood like a flamingo, with her ankle pressed against her calf. The way she blew the wisps of hair off her mouth.

He watched her intently, wondering who she was and how did she get there and what her name was.

And then,

Brushing those thoughts out of his mind, he walked into the shop and didn’t look back.

“Y/N!!” Lucy yelled from the counter.

Y/n, covered head to toe in sparkly purple fabric, rushed out with a bit of hummus on toast in her mouth still.

It was Halloween, and Lucy had demanded they both dress up as part of the uniform at Rockstar that day. Y/n, had decided she would go as Selena Quintanilla, and had crafted herself a halter top-style romper with purple cloth she had bought at the fashion district earlier that week. She’s woken up early too, and gone to her mom’s house so she could do her hair, and make up (given she’d lived at the same time Selena had).

Lucy, ever the creative one, teased her blonde hair, spray painted it with a cheap can of green hair dye from the dollar store, and bought a pinstripe tux. TA-da! Beetlejuice, beetlejuice, beetlejuice.

“Y/n!” Lucy was hissing now, impatient and demanding. It was a busy day at Rockstar. Social media influencers had come out for photo-ops and the like. Also, Lucy had a deal going of buy one get another iced coffee half off, and a free cassette with the $20+ purchase.

“I’m coming, Luce! I’m coming, Jesus Christ,” y/n finished off chewing, tugged on the halter top to make sure nothing would pop out of place and washed her hands in the sink to help Lucy at the register.

After she finished, she took place along side the three baristas, Kelsey, Tilly, and Kim. Kelsey was a broke college student, Tilly an Asian girl who doubled as a pole dancer on certain nights (she wore a mask to make sure her identity stayed secret), and Kim was a 30- year old who lives in his parents house. Bit of a creep if you asked y/n.

“Y/n, you wanna take order 48 or 50?” Asked Tilly while rinsing a measuring cup.

“I’ll take 50 and start on 52.” Y/n responded, tying the apron straps behind her neck. She didn’t tell Tilly that she picked order 50 because she hated making espressos, and order 48 consisted of three espressos. Order 50 was only four iced coffees.

After she finished decorating Lucy’s coffee shop a month ago, Lucy didn’t offere y/n a job, but she was always around to help, and Lucy paid her for it. After class, y/n would stop by the shop, and that would lead to her working as a barista. Which she didn’t mind, the money helped and it gave her something to go. Otherwise, she’d be at home with her nose stuck in a regency novel and a buzzing feeling of want in her crotch at the cue of poetically beautiful yet smutty words.

“Order number 50!” She called out. She set the plastic cup on the pick-up counter and plucked a stray from the jars to place alongside the drink. Seconds later, the drink was picked up by a tall and tanned man with green eyes; nails painted black; rings adorning each finger; soft, pink lips and a scruffy jaw. Curly strands of brown hair peeked out of a green beanie.

He smiled at y/n. The way you smile at the cashier in the market. Polite. A bit disconnected in the eyes. He said, “Good morning, Selena. May I have a cup holder please?”

In a British accent made heavier by the morning gruffness in his voice. Scratchy, deep, manly. And incredibly sexy.

Of course, y/n took a moment to take in and drink the image presented before her, but after she felt her cheeks heat up like the fire underneath a witches feet, she cleared her throat and responded with, “You recognized who I was! Kudos to you, sir!” with a grin on her red lips. The man chuckled, and took the carton cup holder y/n gave him.

“Have a great rest of your day,” was the last thing he said before he walked away. Y/n stared after him, watching the way his thighs filled in the fitting yellow pants he where, and how his biceps looked deliciously muscular; bulging in a white tee.

“Y/N!”

“Sorry, Lucy!” Y/n skipped back to her post in front of the screen,and began reading off orders for Tilly, and Kim to make, and picked one for herself. Two iced coffees, one heated croissant. She was in the middle of measuring the milk when Lucy called her name again.

“Lucy, I’m doing it, okay?” Y/n responded, frazzled.

Lucy sucked on her teeth. “Y/n, come over here.” When y/n looked up, she saw that not only was Lucy looking at her, but a tall skinny blond with a sharp cut bob and a long white silk dress.

Confused, y/n dumped the milk into the mixing cup and handed the order over to Kelsy for her to finish. “Yes?”

“This is Karime, and she wants you to help her decorate her store.” Lucy held a palm out towards the woman. “Karime, this is y/n.”

“It’s so nice to finally meet you!” Karime said, and y/n had to restrain from cringing at her nasally, high-pitched voice. “I love what you’ve done with this place! My store could use some re-camping, and when I saw the article I just had to come and see if I could hire you.” Karime makes gestures with her manicured hands, and titles her head in ways that makes her hair shake like sheets in the wind.

“Oh! Um…”

“Why don’t you go ahead and talk with Karime, we’re all covered back here.” said Lucy, an extra-pleased tone in her voice; the voice she used with customers to keep them happy, y/n had recognized. Oh so now you don’t want me to work? y/n thought to herself, but gave the same smile the green-eyed stranger had given her, and walked out through the waist high swinging door to meet with Karime.

“So, I wanted to know if it was possible to hire you on a month to month basis. Ou could come in the first week of every month, decorate, redecorate, while I suggest and give you a picture of what I want, like you did for Lucy.” Karime had a bamboo handle purse, and they clacked together every time she moved her hands in ‘here’ or ‘there’ gestures.

They’re both standing at the start of the record shelves, and Y/n is awkwardly shifting her weight from foot to foot and fiddling with her hands. She’s sweating, too. This was huge. Big. Is this what networking was? Getting the word out? Expanding? If she said yes, it’s possible that it’d create a cycle. Someone else would come in, asking for help, to hire, to contract. It was a rush. She was giddy, excited. But most of all, nervous. One, because she’s a bit clumsy in the social aspect, and Two, because she had a standard to meet.

Despite all this, she said, “Of course, when do I start?”

Then, Karime had given y/n the address of her shop (a weird mix of aromatherapy, kale smoothies with books), and they decided on a day to meet up (the second day of every month starting November, two days from that day).

Karime left after that. She hadn’t bought anything. Lucy congratulated y/n, squealed over it even, and Lucy never squeals. Kim looked over at them when he heard Lucy, and tried to ask what all the fuss was about. Lucy demanded he go back to work, and y/n ignored him.

When closing time came, the girls did the bare minimum, and rushed out to pregame at Mike’s apartment. Like crazy teenagers, Lucy and y/n shared three bottles of a Stella Rosa bottle that had been on sale at the grocery store at the corner of Mike’s apartment complex. Inside, Mike was 2 beers in, and claimed he wouldn’t drink anymore since he was the DD.

“You guys go on and drink yourselves black.” he said, sitting on the couch with a water in his hand and Lucy in his lap. Mike, a slender punk rock kid who proved his mom wrong in the fact that his like for the color black is ‘not a phase’ is the sweetest guy y/n had ever met. He wasn’t afraid to show his love for Lucy, always doting on her, and if she asked, would rip out his heart and give it to her.

Y/n was jealous. She yearned for a relationship like theirs, and no matter how long she waited, how hard she tried, Prince Charming never showed. Instead, she was stuck with watching Mike and Lucy rub into her face what she wanted so badly.

Affection. Love. Companionship.

Cheers to that, y/n thought. Her bottle of Mango and whatever the heck the flavor was called, was nearly done and she could still walk in a straight line. The wine was juice in her hands. Child’s play. Water. It had no effect on her. Not until she was three bottles in. It took an entire bottle of Smirnoff vodka shots to get her going once. Only then could she completely let go.

“A lonely soul drowns in Stella Rosa, Mike.” Lucy, her hair sticking up like Einstein from the re-teasing she’d done in the bathroom. “There it stands, taking the shape of Selena. Poor, poor, Selena.” Lucy giggled. A teasing jab that made y/n pout, and y/n heart to clench because she knew Lucy was right. A lonely soul she was.

“That’s not very nice of you, Lucy.” Y/n pointed at her friend, bottle in her hand. “First you yell at me at work, now you make fun of my love life?” Shes joking, too, but there's a bit of truth to her words. Meaning, Intention.

“Drink up, lonely soul, and prepare for the battle that lies ahead: the making intercourse with an attendee of the club.”

“Blah,blah, and screw you.” grumbled y/n, finally, finishing the bottle with a final drink.

Not that y/n had anything against it, but fuck the club. She hated it. She only ever went because Lucy or Mike or whoever else begged her to go with them and promised something in return. (Lucy promised she wouldn’t ask her for help the following day). She hated the lights, how load it was, and how much she was being touched. Sweaty men and women alike, rubbing up on her in places where she didn’t want to be, it was too hot, and her toes always got stepped on.

“The usual for you, y/n?” Mike was yelling. His mouth was at her ear, but even then, only some of what he was saying made it into her ears. She simply nodded, and lifted up to fingers. Two gin and tonics. One part water, three parts gin.

Lucy and y/n had managed to snatch a tiny booth when they walked in, and this was the place y/n was planning to spend most of her night. Not out on the blue-lit dance floor, not standing at the bar. Sitting at the dark booth, glumly sipping at her two gin-n-tonics.

“You are not gonna sit here sippin’ glumly at your drinks, got that?” Luccy pulled at the lapels of her suit, popping her collar so the tips touched her jaw.

“Lucy, please.” Y/n’s bangs were deflated and her lipstick was smudged, at her friends comment, she sunk into her seat and pulled her head around.

“Let’s go.”

Lucy tugged her onto the dancefloor just as some song by Cardi B or Nicki Minaj (y/n couldn't tell anymore) blared through the speakers, and the bass beat thrummed in her chest. They stayed for a few minutes, and in those few minutes, y/n’s toes grew numb with how much they’d been stepped on, and her hair was beginning to stick at the back of her neck. Lucy’s black and white makeup was gleaming with her sweat, and her hair dropped with condensation.

It looked a bit funny really. Selene and Beetlejuice together on the dance floor. An odd pairing, but a parenting nonetheless. Lucy led her back to where Mike was when she got tired of dancing, and like an obedient puppy, y/n trailed behind her. When Lucy ordered y/n to chug her drink, she did it.

She couldn’t say not. Not to Lucy. Not to Karime. Not to James.

She couldn’t say no.

And because she couldn’t say no, y/n woke up the next morning and couldn't remember a thing. She had a Katy Perry Last Friday Night moment. Sadly, there was no really hot guy next to her on her bed, and thankfully, she hasn’t wearing headgear.

What woke her, was the pain behind her eyelids that started when the light hit her. With a groan, she hid in the crease of her elbow while she scraped her thoughts together. Y/n was still in her Selena get up. She itched, smelled, and had a headache that hurt like...well, it hurts so much that she didn’t even know what to compare it to. She felt on her nightstand, and there it was. Bless his heart.

Mike had left her a glass of something cold, and two pills. She didn’t know for sure because she didn’t have the energy to peek and see, but the class was probably pedialyte. The hangover cure. The pills were Tylenol. They had to be, because he knew ibuprofen doesn’t do shit for her.

“Fuck, fuck,fuck,” y/n mumbled. Her tongue felt like sandpaper against the dry roof of her mouth, and when she swallowed, there was a dangerous taste of gin to her spit. Pressing her fingertips to her aching temples, she curses Lucy for making her go out last night, and Mike for letting y/n chug alcohol.

Unfortunately, she makes the stupid mistake of rising quickly from her potition on the bed to ‘get it over with’ and not even a full second goes by when she feels her stomach contents worming up her throat. She had to clamp her lips together and rush to the bathroom with her blanket wrapped around her ankles so she doesn’t barf all over her floor.

She doesn’t make it in time, and she spilled her gut on the toilet seat, before she’s made it so that her head is positioned right over the toilet bowl. She heaves and heaves until her chest hurts from the muscle contractions and her throat burns from the amount of acidity her bile holds. Tears drop from the corner of her eyes to where her thumbs grasp the seat because it fucking hurts and she’s gotten throw up in her hair.

The pain in her chest seems to have gone deeper, and wrapped its sharp talons into her heart. Her tears become purposeful; there’s a reason behind them not. She wishes there was someone there to hold her hair. To rub her back and tell her it was all going to be okay. To bring her the glass of pedialyte of her bedside table and coax her to drink it because she’d forgotten it.

Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, y/n gets up and flushes the toilet, wiping down the toilet seat with paper from the roll. The blanket, still curled around her ankles, she picks up and hoists it over her shoulders. She gurgles water from the sink before heading out, avoiding making eye-contact with the horrendous image in her mirror.

Pedialyte goes down like the gin did last night, and she throws in the pills when she drinks, simultaneously pulling the strings so her blings flip downwards and cut off the light coming in from the outside. Quickly, she strips from the itchy Selena ensemble, and slips on a red t-shirt with the Kool-Aid man’s face on it over her head. Y/n has learned that its worse to go to bed and not eat, so she doesn't get back into bed, even though she really wants to and instead throws the blanket on top of her scattered pillows, and turns to make breakfast in her impossibly tiny kitchen.

She lives in a little lofty space in the downtown area. The cheapest of all her options, and the best kept compared to the rest. The windows were blackened around the edges, and her air conditioner didn’t work, but hey, at least she had a roof over her head that she didn’t have to share with her parents. And she liked the window wall, too, and how the windows propped open on hinges. The way her brick walls looked during golden hour. It was very pretty. Relaxing.

Slowly but surely, she’s built herself a little home that she feels comfortable in. In her tiny little space, her favorite thing was her radio. An absolute steal at the thrift store: a really old radio with big knobs and the red line that moved left and right when you tried to pick a station. She went to it now, and turned it on at a soft volume. The song that always feels like it's about a one winged dove by Fleetwood Mac came on, and she hums it softly while she turns on the stove. It click, click, clicks on when the gas catches flames, and she pours oil into a pan to crack an egg over it. The white edges sizzle, and bits of oil jump up and splash onto her skin. It happens so much it doesnt hurt her; she doesn't even flinch. When the egg begins to turn golden, she turns down the knob, and goes back to her fridge in search of an avocado. Call her a trend follower, but she’d be damned if egg and avocado didn’t hit the spot. Plus, she makes an ace toast.

Surprisingly, the smell of egg (her dad likes to say eggs smell like ass) doesn’t upset her stomach, no. Actually, her stomach grumbled when she smelled it, and the ache that had begun to spread across the lower region of her abdomen made her hurry to cut open the avocado, and pop in a slice of sourdough bread into the toaster. She fore-went mayo that time, instead just wanted to get something into her burning stomach because she was so hungry. Her eyes blearily while she does all this.

By the time she’d spread her avocado and egg of the long slices of bread, the radio was playing Girls Just Wanna Have Fun By Cindy Lauper and y/n is doing a little happy dance on her way to her wicker table by the window, next to the bookshelf resting against her wall. Before she sat down, she reached for a novel on the shelf, and set it alongside her plate on the table.

Biting into her toast, she opened the book.

Dani’s cheeks blushed a wine-pink color. She looked away.

“You confuse me so,” she mumbled just loud enough for him to hear.

“How?” He grazed her jaw with gentle fingers, enough to turn her so she’s looking at him.

“You say that what we have, this spectacle we put on, is simple only to convince the people you will be a good king, but them you look at me… like that.”

“Like what? Like I want to kiss you?” he whispered, smiling faintly. “Because I do.”

She seemed not to know what to say, and resolutely, she turned so she sat facing forward between his spread thighs, back to him.

He realized then, that her shyness had caught up with her. He wrapped his arms around her waist and set his chin on her shoulder.

“I’m no expert in etiquette, Your Highness, but I’m sure this is high;y improper.” She sait, stiffly and primly while he cuddled her.

“Proper? They call me Rafe the Rake. I’d say, my little peach, that we passed proper a long time ago.”

“Don’t call me that,” she mumbled.

“What do you wish I call you then?”

“Dani.”

He chuckled at her response. “It’s a hellions name. It suits you well, all right. You can call me Rafe, if you like.”

“I do not wish to call you Rafe.” “No?”

“It’s a scoundrel’s name. I wish to call you Rafael. Like the angel.”

“An optimist, aren’t you?” Rafael began combing his fingers through her hair, sifting through the silking

strands then massaging down her neck and shoulders.

She sank back into his chest with a sigh. “That feels wonderful.”

“I should probably warn you,” he leans forward so that his lips are pressed against the shell of her ear. “I’m rather gifted with my hands.” She tensed again when he leaned down and nibbled on the skin of her neck, but Rafael left her melt in his arms when he continued his sensual massage on her shoulders. “Are you uneasy with this?” He paused to take her hands into his own, feeling as if he were young again with the first girl he had taken a liking towards.

“No,” she said quietly.

“Good.” With fingers still threaded through hers, he drew her hands back, and pinned her arms ever so gently behind her for a moment, gazing down her neckline at her creamy chest. Her breasts her small, but awfully perky and firm. He wondered if he could fit the entirety of one in his mouth. He bet that she’d like it if he did.

Y/n paused for a moment, and clenched her thighs together. A buzzing feeling was starting to form on her clit, and she felt the space where her thighs touch grow warm. The Kool-aid man’s eye popped with hoe erect her nipples were. She was aroused. And she knew that the feeling would only grow more intense the longer she read, which she planned on doing. So, she picked up her plate, placed it in the sink, and took her and her book into her dark room.

Her novel, Our Sign of the Times by Lemus Knox was tatted and bent this way and that from all the times she’s cracked the pages open for a steamy read. A painting of a bodacious woman and handsome prince posing in front of a castle adorned the front cover (one of the main reasons why she bought it). The was was strong, with raven hair and a strong jaw that portured strongly as he kissed the brunette woman in a lilly gown that he held in his arms. The castle was cottage like, with ivy covered walls and stone hedges; complete with a moat and bridge wrapping around the area. The author, Lemus Knox, painted the image himself, as he say so in the acknowledgements. No one knows who he is, how old he is, where he lives, or anything else about him really. A pseudonym, he says. A way to keep his life private life and still do what he loves to do: write.Y/n stumbled upon his book two years ago, in the best sellers section at Barnes and Nobles, and has been slowly falling in love with him and his characters ever since.

When she settled back into her blankets, y/n opened her book, and placed a single hand on her tummy, over the Kool-aid man’s mouth.

“It’s getting dark,” she said rather breathlessly, “don’t you think it’s time we head back?”

“I like being on the water at night. You can’t see. You can only hear the wares and you have to feel,” he teasingly brushed his fingers over the tops of her breasts, “your way back to shore. Feel your way through the dark.” He whispered into her ear,one of his hands splaying on her stomach and pushing back up, up, up to her breasts. “A man has to know exactly what he’s doing.”

She arched against him with a soft catch in her breath as he finally cupped her small breast in his large hands; her generous nipples turned hard underneath his circling thumbs.

“Rafael,” she moaned breathlessly, arms wrapped against his neck as she pushed her swollen mounds against his roaming hands. “We can’t. We’re not married yet.”

“Oh, my sweet love.” Rafael’s hands slid back down against her belly and began stroking her thighs. “I don’t plan on deflowering you yet. I simply wish to learn what it is you like.”

“But… I do not know what I like.” Her words were gasps of dreamy pleasure.

“Then I guess we’ll have to find out, won’t we?”

Knowingly, y/n’s hand began to follow the same path that Rafael’s had. Thumbs circling against swollen nipples, fingertips teasing the insides of her thighs.

Her head was cushioned against his chest, and she turned her fact to him, seeking his mouth in innocent yearning. He lowered his head, and parted her lips with long strokes of his tongue into her sweet mouth, savoring the way she tasted. She reached up, and caressed his cheek as they kissed in slow, soulful agony.

While she ran her fingers through his unbound hair, Rafael deftly inched her skirts upward over her exquisite legs. His heart pounded as she let his hands roam under the gathered layers of silk gown and muslin petticoat. He groaned into her lips when his fingers came to the edge of her white stockings, and found tenderly warm skin. His groin flooded with heat and his body turned rock hard in an instant. Unwilling to push her beyond what she was currently willing to give him, Rafael fought to keep his needs in check.

Having been with many of the calculating damsels of the court, he knew that Dani was unlike them. She was soft, fragile, small, so precious in his arms. And while she may think herself independent, Rafael wanted nothing more than to hold her close and protect her, as much as he wanted to give her glimpses of what was in store for the night of their wedding.

Under her dress, he took his time exploring, kneading, caressing her belly, her hips, all the while devouring her mouth. Behind closed eyelids, he smiled to himself when she began to writhe and twist in his hold, virginal madness getting the best of her.

“Rafael, Rafael,” her voice grew drunk with urgent need.

When he stroked her at her ore, he was more than pleased to find she was soaked with silky wetness, throbbing under his fingertips with pure female invitation.

“Dani,” he mumbled against her earlobe, as her took her skirts with his empty hands and raised them higher and higher. “Would you like to watch?”

“NO! I couldn’t.” Her chest heaved. “Don’t make me.”

“Watch me touch you.” he murmured as his fingertips began to circle. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of, my darling. I only want to fulfill your desires. Watch me pleasure you. Look at how beautiful you are , your sweet body. My wild, virgin love.”

“Oh , Rafael!” she turned and kissed him ardently. A burning moisture inexplicably rose behind his eyelids, and quickly fled as their kiss ended.

He kissed the curve of her neck, moved by his shy uncertainty as she lowered her heat to watch as he touched her, panting slightly. She was so ready, he thought in pure agony as his hardness chafed against her back through their clothes. It would have been easy to take her then and there, on the warm glossy planks of the deck, but her repeatedly shoved that temptation aside, vowing to prove his respect for her by making their wedding night her first time.

Y/n, too, was panting as she continued to read, her vision growing blurry with pleasure and need.

His thumb deftly teased her jeweled center, while his middle finger gently stroked inside her tight, fluid heat ,and as he kissed her ear and the back of her neck.

Y/n threw the book aside, letting her own hands take the pace it needed to to bring her to her high. HEr slender fingers deftly pumped in and out of her slick hole, the hand that was holding her book now rubbing fast circles against her swollen button. Wet mewls left her swollen lips, and her chest arched to meet hands that weren't there. The feeling of clenching in her abdomen and a squirming need something increased.

She left herself clenching on nothing, pinching her pert nipples with damp fingers as she rubbed faster and harder circles onto her mound.

“Fuck, fuck fuck,” she gasped under her breath, a long groan escaping her as she felt it instenifsy; anticipation of water nearly spilling. It hit her like a splash of cold water, her head thrown back against her pillows with her mouth open; a scream and no sound. Her body felt electrifies, her veins fueled by fire.

And when it died out,

She fell back like a ragdoll, limp and tired onto her sheets. Y/n was all droopy eyelids and noodle limbs after her orgasm.

She fell back asleep with sticking fingers on top of her red Kool-Aid man t-shirt.

“... you know what I mean?”

“So… you don’t want a beach theme?” y/n asked. Karime, dressed in another silk dress, but this time in floral red pattern, was having a very hard time identifying the theme she wanted for her Aromatherapy cafe/library.

“No, but I just want like, beach-y vibes. Airy? Ooopen. Yes, open.”

“So plants,” Y/n jotted bulleted notes into her planner, in a blank section under ‘Karime’. “White and green color scheme. Open, clear room.”

The two are standing at Karime’s shop, three streets away from Rockstar; an alarmingly vast space with plain walls and counters. Y/n has a lot of blank canvas to work with, and much to improvise because Karime wasn’t being exact with her vision. She hadn’t even set up a moodboard like she said she was because ‘an LA girl has a wild life you know, hun?’

Y/n truly wished she didn’t know.

“Okay now, what’s your budget?” she asked, her tone businesslike but full of warmth and interest.

“Um, how much do you think you’ll need?” Karime wasn’t looking at her, no, she was picking at her cuticles, and pushing them back with her thumbs; her nails had grown and blank space separated the polish from her skin. Karime was across y/n, behind the quick-serve counter where smokey machines and masks where all lined up; one for each stool.

“Plants are expensive. If you want big and already grown plants, they’re expensive- ranging from $20 to, I don't know… maybe $80?” Y/n taps her pen on her chin. “Furniture, and other wall decor I can craft and thrift, so that right there is maybe $200? $400 tops.”

“Okay.” Karime said, shrugging her shoulders with a crescent moon smile on her pink lips, “I’ll write you a check for $3,000 to start. I don’t want anything from second-hand like Goodwill or anything like that. I’ll give you addresses to pre-selected antique stores and the likes. Now, you mentioned something about measurements?”

“Yes! Thanks for reminding me,” she’d forgotten all about that, and it truly is a key process in the decor department. “Do you happen to have a measuring tape?”

“Actually, yes. There’s one in the back, I’ll go get it.” Karime pushed herself off the granite table top, and turned on her heel to walk through a golden confetti curtain, leaving y/n seated at the counter.

For a moment. She fiddled with the tubes coming from the humidifying machine in front of her, an opaque purple bowl with two tubes sticking out from opposite sides that connect to facemasks that cover your mouth. They’re cool to the touch, but warm when her fingers linger. A humming sound emits from the machine when she accidentally presses the start button, and she pushes it again in a panicked state to make it stop. She decides it’s best if she stops messing around with expensive machinery, and instead turns to looking at the small amount of people that are in the shop.

There’s no one really up and about at 10 in the morning on a Sunday. The few that were, came with laptops to do work in the library section of the shop, with coffees on their tables, or some kind of breakfast, which had to be from somewhere else because Karime didn’t have a menu for food. Just drinks.

One of these really risers, a man who hunched over a sticker covered Mac, looked strangely familiar. Y/n was staring at his choice of clothing (a worn down Brittney Spears shirt with jeans and rolled at the ankles and pristine white vans) when he turned to look at her. It was then, looking onto his dazzling green eyes and watching his taffy pink lips curl into a smile and a hand coming up in a small wave, did y/n recognize that it was the stranger that recognized her Halloween costume a few days ago.

Cheeks heating with clear embarrassment, y/n raised her own hand and timidly twiddles her fingers. She mouthed hello and tried to keep from cringing when he raised a finger to rub under his nose to hide the way his lips twitch upwards. His nose scrunches and wiggles, and his eyes wrinkle at the corner, a cheeky gleam in his look.

“Y/n!” Karime, reappearing, held a ruler in her hand. A ruler. “This is the best we’ve got, babe.”

Her head snaps from the familiar stranger to Karime, who smiled as if she’d just solved all their problems when she’d really just created more because measuring with a ruler? Seriously. Y/n curses at herself for forgetting to bring her own measuring tape.

She has no other option than to nod, smile, and take the ruler, and start taking measurements.

Like the hand-over-hand motions of steering a car, y/n has to place the ruler, mark where it ends with her nail, and repeat the process again and again.

The walls, the patio, window space, countertops, tables, and the one she’s dreading to do: the dimensions of the room the stranger is sitting in. Karime’s place was split in two and a half. A small outdoor patio, the man space with tables and machines, and the library lounging space. The library lounge space, a doorway cut into a small cozy room to the left when you walk in.

She’d yet to go in there and measure the walls and bookshelves, putting in on to last in hopes that he’d leave because measuring with a ruler is really embarrassing and it’s possible that she’d be shuffling around him.

God.

Getting a grip, she pulled her shoulders back and walked into the room, counting how many steps it took to walk through the door frame. She felt like fingers trapped in a Chinese finger trap, constricted.

Walking into the room, the stranger didn’t look up, instead he looked even more immersed in his work than ever. Eyebrows furrowed and fingers tapping away on his keyboard. He was even leaning into his computer screen, like he couldn’t get whatever it was he needed to type onto the screen fast enough.

Sure enough, staring at him, lost in whatever it was he was typing, y/n stumbled on her own two feet, and an absurd noise escapes her lips when she tried to catch herself.

She doesn’t turn to see if he’s looked at her (he did, with a grin that showed off his bunny-like teeth) and instead hangs her head and makes her way to the opposite wall. Great way to be inconspicuous, she thought to herself.

The wall opposite the stranger, was tall, like the others were. And even though she was sure that it was most likely the same dimensions, she wasn’t going to take any chances. Pulling up a chair so she could stand on it once her arm couldn't reach anymore; huffing because Karime had those really heavy metal chairs that screeched if you didn’t pick them off the floor. Seven feet later, y/n had to step up on the chair, wobbling on her legs while she hiked up, pressing harder on the wooden ruler to make sure it’s place didn’t move.

Her nail pins into the wall, at the end of the ruler, before using her other hand to move up the start of the ruler where her nail left off. When the ruler reached her hip, y/n stumbled leaned forward and effectively knocked out her balance so she was left flailing, falling, fa-

Not falling.

No, not falling, because two hands grip her hips, and pull her back on the chair to make sure she doesn't fall flat on her face. Her eyes are pinched un closed anticipation, waiting for the smashing of knees against the cold, hard floors but it never comes.

“Gotcha!” says a deep british voice. A warm gust of minty wind flutters in y/n’s nose, and when she opens her eyes. Glittering green eyes, wispy strands of hair, and petal pink lips.

Right. In front. Of her face.

“Selena, you’ve really got to be more careful,” he says, chuckling as his speaks so his words are broken with sounds of laughter. He’s even lifting her up from her leaned position off of the chair, and settling her down on the floor, biceps tightening and a humming noise coming from his throat as he does so.

She’s flabbergasted. Doesn’t know what to say because she doesn’t think she’d ever been picked up before. Its ridiculous really, seconds away from eating shit on hard ass surface and all she can think about is how she was picked up. But jeez, who could blame her, the man was hot.

All sharp jawline, clavicles peeking out of his shirt, and the column of his throat such a nice pretty color. Quite handsome, really.

“Shit,” y/n finally manages to get out, her eyes wide, shoulders tense, and instinctively, her fingers are digging into his shoulders (though she’s not aware of it yet).

“You alright?” The man says, when he notices the way she’s gone rigid. He doesn’t say anything about the way her fingers are gripping at him.

“Uhm, yes. I am now. Thank you…” Y/n’s voice comes out in breathy spurts, and her forehead glistens like she’s just run to catch the bus. That’s when she noticed where her fingers were placed; the way the white cloth dipped in from the amount of pressure she was exerting onto his skin. Cheeks turning a darker pink, she cleared her throat and avoided looking at him when she removed her hands.

“Harry” He mumbled. “My name’s Harry. Yours? Not quite sure if it’s Selena or not…”

“HA!” A loud exclamation, a bit too loud that it was awkward. “No. Not Selena. Y/n.” She looked into his eyes them, raising her chin the last inch to move from Brittney Spears face to his eyes. Eyes the color of light streaming through a tree leaves in a forest on a spring forest. Y/n sucks in a breath.

“Well, wonderful to meet you, y/n.” He leans towards her, a ringed finger pointing jeeringly at the stick still in her hands. “I gotta say, measuring with a ruler?”

“Very efficient. As you can see,” She shakes the hand the ruler is in, and then uses the ruler to point at the seemingly innocent metal chair “You should try it sometime.”

“Only if you catch me.” Harry grabs his own wrists behind his back, his shoulders hunching forwards and head shaking side to side a bit as his speaks.

It takes a moment for her to drink in what he’s said, to fully react with a scoff and a smile. “Catch you? I’ll hold you up on my shoulder’s myself.”

“Then we’ll both end up sprawled on the floor, all roughed up and bruised.”

They both laugh at their jokes, and Harry even goes as far as to clap his jean clad knee. When it gets quiet, their laughs dying down, Harry speaks again.

“Saw you in the paper. Helped decorate Rockstar didn’t you?”

Y/n’s jaw drops. Her lips opening and closing like a fish eating crumbs at the water’s surface. “The paper? What paper?” This was news to her. She was aware that the article James would write would be like, online or something. But a physical paper. That’s a little bigger. And him having remembered. Having identified her.

“The local paper. WeHoVille.” He quirked an eyebrow at her, one side of his lips pulling up in a confused manner. “Was picking up a sleepy time tea and honey at the Wholefoods, and you painting was a feature next to the counter. Didn’t show your face, but I walked past that day and remembered.”

“The paper… wow. I didn’t know. But yes,”Y/n twirls the ruler on in circles with her fingers, putting all her weight on one hip so on of her feet could tap loosely on the floor. “I decorated Rockstar.” After a beat, “What’d you think about it?”

“The place is amazin’!” A strand of Harry’s hair flops down to the space between his eyebrows and eyelashes, tickling his skin. He had to brush his fingers through his hair to comb it back. “Love the feel of it. Gotta stop myself from going in everyday or might blow all my money on Stevie’s usual.”

“That’s my favorite too! Next time you’re there, give me a wave down and I’ll have you covered.” Y/n’s offers had Harry’s eyebrows raised in seconds. “Least I could do, given you saved me from a concussion and all that.” She tried to explain, words coming out in a flurry from her mouth.

He chuckles at her flustered stare, the same repressed smirk that he’d given her when he caught her staring. “I’ll definitely keep that in mind.” Silence and then, “What do you plan on doing with the place?”

“Turn it into a greenhouse,” y/n said bluntly. The two were still standing next to the wall y/n was measuring, and Harry leaned one of his shoulders against it, moving his hands from behind his back to his front, wrapping one around the other one’s wrist.

“That’ll be nice. Even more uh, how do you say, therapeutic? I guess more relaxing than the place already is. Karime said plants?” He asked. It didn’t quite settle with y/n that he knew Karime on a first name basis, that he was interested in knowing she picked plants, and she wanted so badly to say: Karime doesn’t know what she wants, but instead pushes that feeling away and goes with,

“Well, she gave me a scope to work with. A color scheme. A gist. Certain decorations she wanted to see. So on and so on. Plants is just what I took from it. And it goes with her place because it has to deal with aromatherapy and all that. What do you think?”

“I think you’ve hit it right on. Can’t wait to see what it’ll look like.” He raps a knuckle on the wall. “Did you still need wall measurements? I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again.”

Timidly, she responds, “Okay.”

“Up you get, then.” Harry pointed to the chair, and y/n raises her leg to hike up, this time with Harry’s hands placed on her hips, steadying her.

A tiny dash on the wall where her nail slid off marks where she was at when she nearly fell off the metal chair, and this is where she places the ruler. She left off at 7 feet, the ruler at her hip. Resuming the same positions, she starts to wobble again, and Harry's hands tight, holding her straight.

She guesses he hears her gasp when she feels herself wobble because he says “I’ve gotcha.”

Y/n moved the ruler up one, two, and three more times, and then her arm can’t stretch anymore and pinches one eye closed to cry and guess how many more feet are left. She guessed four… ish. On a whim, she tries to push the ruler up once more, and her shirt rides up on the left side of her hips. Warm sequential breaths hit her skin, and a shiver drops down her spine when she realizes what’s happened.

Harry, ever the gentleman, doesn’t waste a second, and slides his pointer and middle finger over her skin, his warm fingers splaying over goosebumps to pinch her shirt and pull it down for her.

“All done,” she squeaks. “Coming back down.”

Harry released her, but offers her a hand and she takes it, holding on to his as she comes down, his palms warm and rings cool; a nice contrast.

“Thank you so much for h-”

“Y/n?”

Booth Harry and y/n tun to the doorway that leads to the main room, where Karime stands with a checkbook in her hands. Y/n turns back to look at Harry. The curls behind his ears, the blonde hairs on his top lip. He turns to look at her, and gives her a closed lip smile. She smiles back and twiddles her fingers, mouthing a bye bye.

Karime walks away when she sees that y/n is following her, and takes them both back to their position on the counter.

“Here’s the check. Two thousand dollars. Deposit it into your account, and use it for gas, furniture, anything that has to do with Aromareads you can pull from this.” She opens the book and tears out the slip of paper. “I will need receipts. And your name?”

Karime glances up at y/n, only to see that she’s busy looking back through the door frame at Harry. The manager is slightly irked at the fact that the person she’s hiring to reshape her business isn’t paying attention, but following her line of gaze, Karimer can’t blame her. Harry, a usual in her store, is a very very handsome man. Towering, with broad back and a neck Karime would love to bite into if she wasn’t gay. He sat at his laptop, thighs spread and eyes hard and stern, pondering with a pout. Karime is sure that what caught my/n’s attention is the way Harry’s thighs and crotch looked at that very moment, enticing, strong, sensual.

Clearing her throat, “Y/n. I need a full name to address the check.”

Y/n’s neck snaps towards Karime, her hair getting caught on her lips at her velocity. “Uh- yes, sorry it’ll be Y/n Y/l/n.”

Karime repeated her name, and asked for her to spell it, which she did while stuttering mildy.

“Here you go.” Clicking her pen against the marble countertop, Karime handed the check to y/n. “Listen, by no means do I wanna pressure you, but if you could get this down before the holidays are in full force, I would love that.”

“Oh, don’t worry. It won’t take me that long.”

And it definitely didn’t.

On Monday, y/n spent the entire day (and part of her night) driving to most of the places Karime had sent her through a text. She spent a few minutes googling the places and looking through the pictures that came up and cursing every time it would redirect her to yelp- because really who has yelp? The antique stores were all spread out in the Los Angeles area.

There was one in Long Beach. The pictures showed a really big warehouse with chair lying on top of each other and tables littered with little statues and the likes. Here she bought baskets. Tons of them. Gus (the owner) has dedicated an entire isle to them. When he saw y/n’s cart, the laughed then asked her “Why dolly, whadda ya need all them baskets for?” And when she told him it was for business, he offered her coupons and package deals.

“Tell ya what,” he scratched the scruff on his chin, the only hair he had because he was bald, “You buy all these baskets,” he pointed to her cart, “I’ll give you a twenty pa’cent discount on ya purchase, and if ya want, you can pick anathin’ ya want from over there because no one wants tuh buy them.” Then he pointed to a pile of books that lay haphazardly next to a stove and a turquoise refrigerator. She paid one hundred and fifty.

She walked out with wicker baskets, one being a picnic basket she snatched for herself, lined nicely with red patterned cloth and a lid for it to close, and that same picnic basket full of regency novels from the 90’s.

There was another in Laguna. A beachside thrift shop, where she paid for (very overpriced) frames of painted lighthouses and beach landscapes for that ‘beach’ factor Karime wanted. By this time, she drove back towards Hollywood to drop the items back at Aromareads because her car was getting full. She didn’t go inside, just unloaded the tings in the back and Karime took them inside. If she had, she would’ve seen Harry.

Y/n then took to the shops in the downtown area. One being, a swapmeet type place where you walked through and looked at all the furniture. They set up different sections for different themes. Victorian, regal, animal skin themed, and a hall full of mirrors. Y/n bought a large 8x8 mirror for five hundred dollars. It would be delivered the following day.

One of the sections was retro-themed, and she snapped a picture of a hip-height lava lamp and sent it to Lucy. Lucy then proceded to beg y/n through to text to please buy that I fucking need it. Will pay u back. So she bought it; $100 that she knew would be no big deal for Lucy given all the business she had.

Her final stop, were the flowers and plants district. There, she placed a large order for 30 succulents, and an assortment of nearly 100 leafy plants to fill the baskets with. She blew $1,000 there.

By the end of the day, she’d wasted nearly all of Karime’s check; a measly two hundred remaining after she refilled her car with gas (give or take some). Y/n met with Karime at around 6, in the back parking lot again, and left everything she’d bought.

“Oh! And the mirror should be delivered tomorrow before closing time.”

Karime was wearing a caramel turtle neck and black slacks tucked into latex ankle boots, her hair pinned back and tied into a spiky ponytail. Her ears were adorned with pearl earrings, and her fingers were jammed into golden rings. Y/n felt embarrassed in her measly purple jumper and paint splattered mom jeans. Her accessories consisted of a fanny pack full of nails and a hammer at her waist.

“Good, good. Well, I’ll see you tomorrow-” Karime was already turning back and returning into the shop when Y/n said:

“Actually I was hoping I could start now.” Her words lifted into a question at the end, half suggesting half stating.

Karime’s face morphed into one of confusion and surprise, but in the end she agreed, and told y/n to do as she pleased.

Upon first entering, y/n is disoriented.

She walks into a frenzy of… nothing. It’s like an industrial kitchen, but completely empty. Occupied only by the things she had brought in. She remembers that she walked into the back and not the front, and it made sense because Karime doesn’t offer anything that would require use of the kitchen. Everything she has is done at the bar by the barista outside.

Karime leaves y/n in the back, where she asses her items. The baskets. The frames. And well, that’s really all there is. It would be more with all the plants coming in. She realizes that she doesn’t really have much to work with and there really isn’t much to do than hang picture frames, and there’s only five of them.

Nonetheless, she goes outside with the first frame in hand. A soft blue painting of a lighthouse on an island with light from a hole in a cloudy sky shining on the building. When she picked this one up, she knew exactly where it would go. By the wall next to the sliding door that lead to the patio. She sauntered over to the spot then, dodging a woman on her boyfriend on her way there. It was packed, and rightfully (it was a tuesday).

She reached the spot, and lifted the picture on the wall, lifting and tilting so it would fit naturally. Eventually, she found the sweet spot, and reached for the hammer she had stuck into her belt loop and the box of nails she’d placed into the fanny pack on her waist.

Without hesitation, she put the first nail on the wall, and started banging. Three taps in, and she hung the wire on the nail, balancing it so it looked the way she envisioned it. After she was done, y/n stepped back to admire her handiwork, and tilted her head to the side the way one does when their looking at a picture that’s upside down.

Perfect.

She walked around the shop then, with the purpose of noticing empty spots on the walls, anything that could be filled up with artistry. The simple tables? No they had to stay that way. Placing something on the tables would clutter them and tarnish the ‘relax’ mode people came in for. The window that faced the street? Yes. Y/n planned on lining them with hanging droopy plants on the edges, not obscuring but not leaving a clear view either. She’d have to buy shelves to place baskets on the walls. Hooks to hang them. This she would do with what was left from the check.

Yet… something was missing. The alternative-ness she knew should be there. Something ‘hippie’ and ‘aesthetic’, off the minimalist side of things.

Looking into a corner where the walls met, a light bulb went off. She knew exactly what was missing. Letters. Y/n had seen an image on Pinterest not even less than a month ago. A picture of a string of letters. Or rather, a message. It said something along the lines of ‘You are my light’ or something edgy like that. Each word had been hand cut and strung onto a piece of- she didn’t know, string? Tweed? A wire?- and hung in a corner of a room where walls met. It knocked off every box on the checklist. Minimalist. Crafty. Aesthetic. And cheap, considering how low the money was.

She knew she’d have to brainstorm phrases and pass them by Karime, but she’d worry about that later.

It was Friday. One day after the plants had been delivered, and y/n was set to work full force. Sure, she’d have to work amongst customers, but no matter. It would get done.

She started in the back. With the plants.

Y/n had bought a plastic-type lining at the Home Depot to place soil in the baskets. She lined then all first, securing the material with tape around the edges. After, came the transfer and placement. She decided this would be a better method, and if there were extras she could have Karime sell them. This way, she wouldn’t overcrowd the place and stop when she saw an adequate fill of green.

The first, a circular basket with no handle the color of a waffle cone. Because it was one that would go on a shelf, she placed one of the droopiest plants in it, a green stream of vines and shrubby leaves.

Last night, y/n had given Karime the benefit of the doubt, and allowed her to place shelves where she’d liked them So, before she opened at 7, Karime had decorated her store with wooden slabs for y/n to decorate. Taking the first plant, she walked out.

As expected, Aromareads was bustling with energy. Women with mojitos in their hands, burnt out college kids hooked up to masks, older men and women laughing like tinkling bells.

She’s walking towards the first row of shelves she sees on the wall across from her, besides the sliding doors, basket held gingerly with both hands, when she hears:

“Y/n!”

Looking to her left, she sees a sleepy, just-rolled-out-of-bed looking Harry. He’s wearing a black hoodie with the words ‘Treat people with kindness’ in a gradient rainbow color, and… and grey sweatpants. Grey. Sweatpants.

Grey sweatpants.

Y/n tries not to visibly swallow him whole as he walks towards her with an innocent smile on his face because god if she isn’t all hot and bothered right now. Her eyes seem to be magnetically attracted to his crotch, trying but failing to grasp and image of what may be lying underneath.

“H-hey, Harry,” she smiles at him meekly, her voice cracking when she speaks. She cleared her throat and said again, “hey, Harry. S’nice to see you.”

“Nice to see you too.” He bows his head towards her, and endearing mannerism that has y/n’s heart pooling down to her ribcage. “I see you’ve brought out the green guns today.” A teasing grin on his extra red and shiny lips. Perhaps it was chapstick. It was rather windy outside.

“You see correctly.” She giggles at his joke, at the same time, rolling her eyes at how cheesy he was being. “Today’s the day it all comes together.”

“I’m excited to see how it all turns out. Don’t go falling on any chairs today alright?” He wags his finger at her, mocking a mother shunning her child.

“I’ll try not to. But if I do-” she said, coquettishly.

“I’ll catch you.”

“You better.” Laughing at him, she repeats his actions and lifts her finger up to point at him.

With a final laugh and a shake of his head, Harry walks away and into the working room.

Y/n watches him walk off, and walks off her own way as well, resting the basket against her hip as she went. When she reached the wall with shelves arranged in a checkered pattern, she placed the basket on top of the wooden plank, and tufted leaves so they look naturally messily placed. Unintentionally intentional; they way one teases their hair so it looks nice.

She went back to her work station: the now full kitchen, and repeated the process. Picked a basket, filled it with a plant, and took it outside. She left the hooks for last, wanting to leave of being in the way of people until she had too. Almost effortlessly, y/n filled Karime’s space with greenery. Cacti on shelves, large leaves and vines on walls, frames of beach paintings on nails. Once, she pricked her finger because her it had accidentally slipped inside the glass globe in which the succulent was in.

When the time finally came to walk into the room Harry was in, the outside was looking rather… forest-y. She liked the way it looked; a calm type of chaos. One that showed relaxation and no care for anything. Which was the point of the entire place. Come in. Relax. Breathe in from diffusers to get that extra push to decompress.

Harry sat in his usual spot, directly in spot of the doorway, in one of the middle tables. Hunched over his computer with fingers flying over his keyboard. He had earphones in this time, white buds tucked right into his ears, stray strands of hair looping and covering them. His lips were placed in a puckered pout, the scrunched pink skin twitching from left to right.

Humming to herself, y/n forces herself to walk past him, forces herself to not turn back and glance at Harry even if she can feel his gaze burning into her back. She makes it seem like the hook and plant in her hand are the most interesting things in the world. Turning it over in her fingers, and even going as far as to lift the basket (this on with a handle and curved bowl bottom) to her nose and smell it.

“Need a hand with that?” Harry says from behind her. She feels his presence from behind her, standing close enough that she can feel when he reaches to her front and takes the basket from her hands. Y/n’s heart starts beating as fast as a hummingbird's wings. Closing her eyes to get a hold of herself, all she sees is green. Green, the color of his eyes.

“Yes, please.” Her voice is small, shy.

Harry, feeling bold, nudged the tip of his nose on the hair behind her ear. Enough to make her notice, but not enough to make her completely sure that it was there. “Where do you want it?” He says, breath hot on the shell of her ears. Her eyes widen, and her body goes on full alert. She’s suddenly aware of the closeness of his hips on hers, the brushing of the fabric on her the back of her hand.

“Up…” Y/n steps forward, towards the wall. She places her finger on the smooth surface, and traces it over to where she wants it, doing loopty-loops to her desired spot. “...here.”

He places the nail on the wall, hits it with the hammer that y/n gives him and hooks the basket as well. He turns to her when he’s done.

“Got any more?” He asks, placing a hand on his hip.

“Yeah, in the back. Wanna come help me?” Y/n points with a thumb to the doorway, half of her body turning as well.

“Lead the way.”

So they leave together to the backroom, y/n holding open the golden curtain for Harry to walk through. He looks around endearingly, his neck stretching and eyes darting from place to place as he takes in his surroundings. Y/n is stuck at the expression on her face, her heart strings pulling when her ears listen to the soft giggle that escapes his lips.

“S’very nice back here.”

“Wanna grab a few baskets? Place ‘em in the lounge?”

“Sure thing.” Harry wraps his hand around the handle of three baskets at the same time, and with the other, he grabs the still-packaged hooks and wait for y/n by the doorway. She hurried to grab two succulents, and met Harry at the doorway. They had an awkward moment of deciding who’s going first. A huffle of backwards and forwards until eventually, Harry held his palm out to allow her to go through while biting his lip. Y/n ducked her head and felt the tips of her ears go warm.

“So, I tried Elton John yesterday.” He said, trailing behind y/n into the lounge like a little puppy. If he had a tail, it’d be wagging.

“Oh? How was it?” She replied, juggling the two glass casings in her hand, and then pricking herself again. She flinches, but doesn’t make any noises.

“Think I might have a new favorite,” he said, bashfully ducking his own head and peeking at her through his hair. Her heart fluttered, and if it could, she was sure it would bust out with the dreamy sighs she suppressed.

“It’s that serious?” She asked.

“It’s that serious.” They reach the lounge, and y/n sets the succulents she carries in her hands down on a table. “Have you had it yet?” Her stretches her hands out to Harry, signaling for him to give her his items.

“No, not yet. Should probably give it a try if its changed your mind. Can you pass me a hook?” Harry gives her all four packages he holds in his one hand. When she wraps her hand around them, her finger brushes against the chubby part of his hand.

“Here you go- I only drank it ‘coz like, I’m on this diet thing and needed a drink with oat milk in it. Elton’s was the first one I saw. Woke me right up, too.”

“Diet you say?” y/n took the hammer and walked over to her desired stop, a few feet away from the one Harry had put in.

“Some altered version of keto. Had a really bad bug, had me feeling icky and ‘just decided it was the best.” He takes place next to her, watching as she positioned the nail and hit it a few times with the hammer. He held out a basket on his finger when she was done. She was a whirlwind, he thought. Busy little bee, never stopping. Harry nearly feels bad because she’s so full of energy, bouncing back from the table to the wall and arranging plants before he could even blink. “S’not fair. Not letting me do any work.” A pout appears on his lips, eyes teasing.

“You just stand there and look pretty. I’ve-” she points to herself, finger at her chin. “Got this.”

Harry grumbles something that she doesn’t catch with his chin tucked into his neck.

“What was that?’ she hums.

“‘Said, can’t exactly be pretty ‘coz you took that job too.”

Y/n’s hands still. Immediately, she feels her chest grow red roses blooming on her cheeks. She’s not exactly… embarrassed, per say. No. The familiar feeling of ants running wildly in her lower stomach began to burn, her ribcage tickling as butterflies try to creep out with beating wings. Pretty. He had called her pretty.

“Uhm, thank you?”

“You’re very welcome, darling.” His tone of voice is smug. And when she looks over at him with eyebrows raised, he’s biting his lip and his looking at her through his eyelashes like he had before, but there was no childish play in it this time.

“Say,” she picks up a succulent. “What’s it with you?”

“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He shrugs.

“Lovin’ all up on me.” She puts the succulent back down.

“S’nothing wrong with lovin’ all up on a pretty girl.”

There it is again. Pretty girl. Y/n is on fire her entire face pink, color concentrated on her cheeks and nose as if she had taken a walk in the brisk wind.

“Stop it,” she said.

Harry’s face turns concerned, brows kissing and lines appearing on his forehead. “Am I making you uncomfortable?” All work is forgotten, and instead they stand facing each other.

“No! No, no,” Y/n’s eyes widen and her hands waving back and forth to eradicate the thought of her being disturbed by him. “S’just,” she sighs. “Not used to it, is all.”

Upon hearing this, Harry’s face breaks into a smile. “Well then,” he starts. “Better get used to it.”

“Oh, you.” She playfully slaps his shoulder and picks up the succulent again, this time actually going to put it on a shelf adjacent to the window; a little alcove Karime has placed in a weird spot.

“When do you get a break?”

“I think I get to take it whenever I want, why?” “Wanna head down to Rockstar? Craving a Madonna right about now.”

“Never pegged you as a Madonna guy,” (the Madonna was a sweet caramel iced coffee with whipped cream and chocolate chips; not actually what Madonna would drink, and the beverage itself being one of the few inaccurate ones). “Let me finish with this, and I’ll let Karime know.”

So she did, much faster with Harry’s help. He handed her nails, hooks, and the plants she asked for. He asked if he could leave his stuff in the back, and he followed her back there once again, ticking his bag into an empty cupboard next to y/n’s things. On her way out, she said a quick goodbye to Karime who she was sure didn’t even hear what she said.

Harry and her walked the short block side by side, with him playfully knocking his shoulder into hers and smiling like a mushy schoolboy when she pushed him back. They made small talk about drinks and the weather, shoulders hunched up and chins tucked in because it was a little cold. Y/n’s frayed highschool sweater wasn’t doing much to keep her warm, and she had half the wind to pull her hood up the way Harry had his.

Looking over at his, his nose was going a bit raw. Pink and the skin around it a little pale. By the time he noticed she was looking at him, they’d reached Rockstar, and he was opening the door for her. Murmuring a small thank you she walked through, and stepped to the side to wait for him to step inn as well, given he’d held the door open for the few people that had been walking behind him as well. From inside, she could see him nodding and smiling at everyone who stepped in.

“You wanna grab a table and I’ll get the drinks?” she says to him when he appears next to her with hands in his hoodie pocket; she’s craning her neck to meet his eyes.

“Sure. I’ll be in the records?” He takes one hand out to point over to where the records are.

“Okay.” Y/n nods and head to the counter, where Lucy is busy taking someone’s order. She only see y/n when she walks behind the person and makes a silly face at her. Lucy laughs, but continues taking the order, and y/n pushes through the doors to put on an apron and make her and Harry’s drink.

“Well if it isn’t y/n!” Says Kim.

“Y/n! Girly its been forever,” Kelsey bumps her hip when y/n get to work alongside her at the steaming machine.

“Yes, yes, I know. Missed my favorite baristas.” she giggles, bumping her hip a little harder and making Kelsey gasp in faint shock. “Where’s Tilly?”

“Called in sick. Poor think could barely speak.” replied Kelsey. Y/n hummed a response, and made her drink first, a hot chocolate, and set it to the side to allow it to cool down meanwhile she made Harry’s. When Kelsey noticed her reaching for another measuring cup after just making her own she says,

“Two drinks?”

“Got a friend waiting for me in the records.” Y/n explained, pumping an extra pump of caramel into the cup. She puts in less ice too, and extra chocolate chips and whipped cream.

“The records…” Kelsey craned her neck out of where customers pick of their drinks to peek tp the records section. “Wait, wait, the one in the hood?” “Yep,” said y/n, unbothered as she capped Harry’s drink.

“Y/n!” Kelsey hissed, “He’s hot!”

“Yes, Kelsey, I am aware.” Y/n rolls her eyes and picked up both drinks, turning on her heels to walk out but nearly bumps into Kim, who stood not even an inch away from her. She backs up instantly.

“So are you and he a thing?” He asked, leaning in closer to y/n’s face,his breath smelling on the ramen he always ate during his lunch break.

Y/n, uncomfortable by his closeness, tried walking around him but he stepped to the side. “It’s none of your business Kim.”

“You never accept my dates, but you’ll accept his?” Kim’s tone is angry, and when he takes a step towards her, Kelsey steps in front of her.

“Kim, leave her alone.” Kelsey says, turning back to y/n and nodding her head in the direction y/n was heading. When she pushes past the swinging doors, she catches a bits of what Kelsey says to him in a harsh whisper, “just wait until Lucy hears about this.”

“Haarryy,” Y/n says in a sing-song voice, dodging people as she makes her way to the records. Harry’s standing with a record in his hand, legs spread apart and leaning back a bit with his other hand tucked into his opposite armpit. “Here’s your John.”

Harry takes the plastic cup from her, giggling as he looks at her.

“What’s so funny?” she asks, genuinely confused.

“Still wearing your apron,” Harry wraps his lips around the straw, tongue poking out to lap at it and take it into his mouth as y/n tries really hard not to stare.

Looking down at herself, y/n shrugs, and leaves it on, taking a seat on the nearest loveseat and wrapping her now empty hand around the warm cup.

“What did you get?” He asked her.

“Willy wonka.” She brings the cup to her lips, tilting it up slowly and her mouth waters when she catches the scent of the foaming chocolate. Harry takes a seat next to her, his thigh touching her jean-clad one. He sits with them spread, leaning back in an eased position, and y/n eyes jump down to the bunched grey fabric at his crotch. And… well, there’s a larger than normal bulge through the fabric, drawstrings bending over the imprint, and y/n chokes on her drink. Some of it sputters out onto her apron.

“Still hot?” She nods. “ Gotta be careful, love. Who picked the names?”

Y/n looks over at him, head tilting to the side with eyes squinting. “Picked what?”

The cloudy skylight streamed in softly, casting a soft grey glow on Harry’s side profile. “The names for the drinks. Who picked them?” He holds his drink in one hand, straw near his face so all he had to do was maneuver his wrist to the plastic tube was in his mouth.

“Lucy did. Well, for most of them. I picked Andre 3000, Madonna, Willy Wonka and made the drinks myself. They’re not accurate though.” She sipped from her drink. “The rest of them are.”

“How much of this decor did you do? Like, concepts and stuff.” Harry takes out the tucked hand to wave around, and then tucks it back in.

“Concepts? Hmm…” she trails off for a moment. “All of them. I don’t want to say that I made this place myself, because I wouldn’t have done it without Lucy’s guidelines, but I went out, bought the furniture. Everything you see me doing at Karime's, I did here… ‘cept Karime’s is just plants and this,” she waves around her in a gesture and leaves it at that.

“Do you decorate apartments?” He asked.

“W-what?” Y/n, in the middle of a sip, and very surprised at his question, stuttered at his

“‘Coz mine’s looking kinda bland right now, was thinking maybe you could help me put some life into it.”

“Harry, I-”

“Kinda like the Rockstar vibes, but like, a little less on the trendy side? I dunn-” Harry isn’t looking at her, his eyes wandering and landing on everything but her.

“Harry.” she said a little more sternly, putting a stop to his little rant. He looked at her then, his expression unreadable. “I’m not sure you want me to help you decorate your home.”

“Why not? You’d be helping me is all, and I love the way you’ve made Aromatherapy and Rockstar look.” He licks his lips, moving his head to the side and bringing the straw into his mouth with his tongue (that y/n stare at for longer than necessary).

“But it’s your home.”

“I am aware. Help me make it more me.” He shifts his body towards her then, his knee bending so he chest is to her. “Please?” He makes the face Puss in Boots made in that one movie, y/n couldn’t remember then because Harry looked much cuter than that dumb cat did.

Y/n tosses this idea around in her head. Helping Harry decorate his home. She was scared, not only because Harry was cute, but because home was a personal and private space to be calm and safe. What if she screwed it all up and then Harry was uncomfortable in his own home? What is she did such a shit job that, that- well such a bad job that a horrible result came out of it again. This thing with Harry, a budding friendship? She barely knew the guy, just that he had an affinity for showering her with compliments and he made her turn more red than that really bad sunburn she got in the 10th grade after she refused to put on sunblock on a trip to a pool resort. What her point was, is that decorating someone’s home- a place where the heart is pure- is a really big job.

“Of course, this would be after you’re done with Karime’s place. Don’t wanna stress you out or anything like that.” A nike shoe, white and crisp looking like it had come straight out of the box, pressed into his thigh when he wrapped a hand around his ankle and pulled his bent leg in tighter. “Whadda ya say?”

After hemming and hawing a few times, y/n finally says, “Okay. But you’re gonna have to be one million times more specific okay?” She elbows him, his position causing her elbow to poke at his pec instead of his bicep, and y/n elbows into hard muscle.

“Heyyy, can’t go hurting the girls now,” He rubs over where he poked her, and pouts childishly, even going as far as sticking his tongue out at her. “Do you need to head back? I don’t wanna get you into any trouble, y/n.” The use of her name makes her heart skip a beat. “Yes, we should probably get going.” She moves to get up, and accidentally places her hand on Harry’s thigh. Before she would say sorry for touching him, he says,

“Alway using me to hold yourself, huh? Sneaky thing, I see what you’re doin.”

“You offered! Said it yourself, I’ll hold you so you don’t fall again,” she deepened her voice, and faked a british lilt as best she could.

“I do not sound like that,” He whined.

He got up right after her, grabbing her hand to ‘pull’ himself back up, but he was really just holding it. His hand was cooler than hers (because he’d used the hand that had been holding his iced coffee) and enormous around hers. If he tried, he could close his finger tips and they’d be overlapping. When he was fully stood up, he reached around her neck, and lifted the black strap over her head, transfering the cloth over to the hand that held his cup, and then reaching again, this time around her waist to undo the knot. His front, not even a full step away from hers, and y/n got a whiff of detergent and something else she could only describe as ‘clean man’. If she were a shark, this would’ve been the moment her eyes turned black and rolled to the back of her head.

“There you go, no longer look like a little barista.” He hung the apron over he shoulder, and walked alongside her to the exit. Y/n split from him for a short second to return the apron, but then resumed her place next to him and they walked out together. She was hyper alert the entire way, taking notice of when their hands brushed, or when he pressed his bicep against hers. They walked a little stumbly, walking against each other almost. Had it been Lucy, she would’ve already yelled at y/n, and y/n would’ve walked near the sidewalk to avoid bumping into her again. But Harry?

Harry takes it like a champ. Giggling and pressing back against her, and he even placed her on the inside of the sidewalk when she walked to the side closest to the passing cars.

“So, tell me.” He starts, tossing his empty cup at a recycling bin as they waited for the light. “What kind of premeditated preparations should I take to be- as you said- extra specific?”

Y/n still nurtures her cup in her hands, the coffee lid resting on her bottom lip. “Moodboards. Magazine scraps. Room inspiration on pinterest. Make a list of things you like. Anything really. Anything that you like and would like to see in your apartment. Also, you need a budget.”

“Don’t worry ‘bout a budget. I’ll work on everything else. You want it done by a certain day?” He asked, gallantly placing a hand on the small of her back as they crossed the street.

“Preferably within the next week or two. I’m pretty much done with Karime.” She straightens up when she feels Harry’s hand on her, a warm feeling spreading from where he pressed, unlike the nastiness Kim made her feel.

They’re three shops down when he said, “Gotta give me your number so I can send you everything then. You can keep me updated and I’ll keep you updated.” They pass by a tree whose branch is just low enough to graze Harry’s head, and it hooks onto the hood on his head, effectively pulling it back as he walks through. His hair looks incredibly soft. Wispy strands the color of the drink in her hands, billowing up and around his face, a ringlet falling in front of his right eye.

He licks his lips, using his fingers to push his hair back and raise the hoodie over his hair again. HE looks over at her as he does, waiting for her response.

“Oh, oh, yes. Sure thing. Got your phone on you?” Harry jams his hand into his pocket and pulls out his phone, the latest model, sleek and looking incredibly small in his hands. He placed it into her outstretched palm, unlocked but not on the contact app. Y/n has to swipe through shamefully, scared he’s gonna think that she’s snooping. She puts her number under ‘y/n :)’.

“Thanks, love.” He took the phone from her, his fingers sliding against the back of her hand. He hisses when he does so, saying, “Y/n your hands are so cold,” and then proceeds to take her hand and squeeze it between his own two.

She giggles sweetly, “Aye! Trynna hold my hand now?” she teased.

“No, trying to hold your hand would be this,” He grabs her hand with one, and lets it wall between them. They walk into AromaReads like that, with him holding her hand and the both of them laughing like they’d heard the funniest thing in the world.

Karime, standing at the counter and welcoming everyone as they come in, catches y/n’s eye and she smiles at herself knowingly. Y/n shakes her head while still laughing with Harry, and they both head to the back. Harry to get his stuff, and y/n to continue her job. Just when he’s walking between the isle and cabinets, his phone dings and he takes it out, his jaw dropping and palm slapping his forehead.

“SHIT! I completely forgot. I have a lunch meeting with my friend today. Fuck,” Y/n, this being the first time she hears swear words coming out of his mouth, rases her eybrow at him and chuckles. “I’m so sorry. I wanted to keep helping you, but-”

She raises her hand, silencing him. “You do what you have to do. This is my job anyway. Just don’t forget to text me.” Basket handles fill her hands, wicker patterns pressing into her pals, and she tucks one of the last two frames under her hand too.

“I won’t. In fact, I’ll do that right now.” He types into the phone that’s still in his hand, and a few seconds later Y/n’s back pocket buzzes and chimes. She doesn’t pull it out to check. “Now you can text me if I forget.” He says finally, swinging his satchel over his shoulder.

“Bye, sweetheart!” He called out, turning back over to smile at her. Y/n’s lips pulled up at the corners, gazing at him with a certain look in her eye as he walked out.

“Sweetheart, huh?” Karime stepped into her direct line of vision, snapping y/n out of the daydream in her head where she’s the housewife and Harry her husband leaving to work, calling out bye, sweetheart! as he walked out the door.

Karime’s looking at her with a smirk and a single pointy eyebrow raise.

God, what had she gotten herself into?

Y/n had saved Harry under “H.”

And received a text from him that same night.

She’d been in her bathtub with cucumbers on her eyes when she heard her phone chime. Chin pointed upwards and wrists perched on the edges of her porcelain basin, she lay unbothered and unmotivated to even move. Arms aching and the soles of her feet tired from walking from place to place and lifting she did at Karime’s earlier that day. Tealight candles were the only source of light in the tiny bathroom, a soft yellow glow cascading on the skin of her neck. The valley of her breast peaked out everytime she took a breath, her mind drifting off into thoughts of green eyes and warm hands, all she’d been able to think about that day.

She planned on staying there 30 more minutes, but her phone dinged again. After she thought it was the two minute thing the phone does after receiving a message, but when it dinged again, she huffed from her nose and removed the soggy cucumber sliced off of her eyes. Should’ve turned off my phone, she thought to herself, grabbing the towel she left on the toilet seat across from the tub, and wrapping it around her torso. The phone screen a blaring white light in contrast to the dimness of the candles.

Y/n, eyes cloudy with sleep and limbs saggy with fatigue, is very much surprised to see that next to the app icon on the display screen, is ‘H.’ Hey eyes pop out of her head at the realization, and her heart shakes up the fatigue to beat up a storm for the boy she’d been thinking about all day since he’d left her.

Standing in her bathroom, on bare tiles with water still dripping on her, it hit her full force. She liked Harry. Liked the way his cheek squished against his shoulder when he shrugged. They way he looked at her through his eyelashes, and they way he made sure that she was walking on the inside of the street. Liked how he smiled at her and said her name. She was obsessed with him.

So i think i know what i wanna go for

Was thinking maybe italy in the 70’s

What do you think :D ??

And attached were varying pictures of vast rooms with big windows during golden hour and white flowy curtains with art pieces on the wall. It was minimal Even more minimal that what Karime asked for. This is what he wanted help with? Not to mention, the pictures he sent were of rooms far bigger than she’d ever seen for an LA apartment. Hell, those rooms might as well have been in Italy, one of the windows had a view of a pretty pink sunset and orange tree branches littering the way.

However, she couldn’t argue that they were very pretty rooms. Sweet and plain, easy for the eye to absorb and just the place you’d be able to melt on the floor with a book.

Or the kind in which you have slow, hazy afternoon sex, but who was she to say what harry would use his rooms for right?

Disclaimer: if this is the look you’re going for

This exact look? You’re gonna have 2 have a really big apartment

Not even a full minute goes by until the grey delivered letters turns into ‘Read at 10:15pm’ and the grey typing bubble appears at the bottom of her screen. Her palms begin to sweat and her breath hitches. She doesn’t realize she’s been holding in her breath until she releases it after his message comes through.

are you doing anything this weekend?

Y/n is confused, brows furrowed as she reads his message. Why does he want to know?

No. why? she responded.

so you can come and take measurements of my apartments. that way i know how to tweak what i want

and I have a measuring tape don’t worry

Y/n rolled her eyes and giggled at her phone screen, turning and resting her bum on the edge of her sink.

Saturday?

Seconds later,

see you Saturday

sweet dreams. H.x

The idiot. Of course he’d sign off a text message. Scoffing, y/n let the towel drop to the floor, and reached into the tub to unclog the drain. As soon as she felt the pop of water flowing down the pipes, she took out her arm and walked out.

On Wednesday, y/n laid in bed until 12. When she got up, it was only to brush her teeth, pee, and eat ramen with rice and egg like the asian lady in the liquor store had taught her to make. When she finished, she went back to bed. Maybe she masturbated to get herself to fall asleep again.

Maybe.

On Thursday, she went took Our Sign Of The Times and took it out to read in her car on signal hill. She finished it.

She cried.

When she went home, she started another one. Rogue Lover. This one with a really pretty purple flower on the front, and the first page when you open it is a raven haired man with shoulder length hair who’s propped up next to a busty redhead. Her nipple is in his mouth, and her head is thrown back in pleasure. Y/n fell a little more in love with

Lemus Knox upon finding the dedication was a note rather than a name.

It said:

Whoever reads this, I’ll be waiting for you where the stars and clouds meet. My heart is yours. Lemus.

Friday.

She helped Lucy at Rockstar. A bald man with a blue beard came in asking for her. He has a boutique in Long Beach. Doesn’t want to come off overbearing. Will he help her?

She said yes.They were set to meet next week.

Also, Harry texted her asking if they were still on for tomorrow and come ready to eat because I made Italian food for a few friends I had over and there’s leftovers.

Saturday.

Y/n woke up with an appetite for Italian food. She didn’t have to be at Harry’s house until 12-ish. They hadn’t really clarified. And with it being 8 am and all that, y/n decided to take some time to shower and prep herself all nice and delicate. She spent 15 minutes lathering herself in her tub, letting her skin absorb berry scented bubbles that made her mouth water, and if she didn’t know any better she’d scoop up the bubbles and eat them.When her skin shriveled, she stood and drained the water, letting the stream from the overhead wash her off, and stepped out onto her heart shaped mat, the kind with little stubs that felt really nice against the bottom of her feet.

A little while back, she’d bought a lemon face scrub from a really expensive skincare place that had a sale, and meanwhile she put on her clothes, she put some on her cheekbones and forehead to sit for 15 minutes. It required extra care when slipping her floral dress over her head. Once she managed to poke her head through, and the material rested all bunched up on her neck, the rest was a breeze. With a careful yank, the light material cascaded down her body, dropping just below her bum. Checking herself in her mirror, she smiled at the way she looked when she swayed her hips side to side. Cheeky flashes of her bum glint at her teasingly. Humming contently, she took off to wash off her face in the restroom. She was eager to find out how Harry liked the way she looked; her dress a low neckline, and she wasn’t wearing a bra because it was one of those dress in which the fabric bunched at the breasts to create a makeshift cup. The patter was a nice pink that looked nice against her skin, dainty little bows at the sleeves and in between her breasts accentuating her features.

Y/n opted for nothing other than a dark shade of lipstick, and let her hair flow down her back. As she was putting on her shoes, a pair of those recycled shoes that sent some of the proceeds to charity, she noticed that much of what she was doing felt like what she would have done if she were getting ready for a date.

And… and Harry had food waiting for her at his place (apartment? Loft? She didn’t know specifically). Was this a date? She definitely wouldn't mind if it was.

She finished, and grabbed nothing other than her keys and shoulder bag, hesitating at her door whether she should grab the measuring tape, but deciding against it after remembering that Harry, quite teasingly, had said he had one at his house.

In her car, she scrolled up her and Harry’s text to find the one which contained his address, tapped on it when she found it, and set in on the small mount on the headboard of her cart. Huffing, she set off to Harry’s house.

It didn’t take her long to get there, about ten minutes, and she parked in front of a much nicer version of her own apartment complex, but in Beverly hills. A beige building that have the similar structure of a hotel, with turquoise patios and green roofing. Palm trees making a walkway to the entrance, which guarded by a security guard who asked who she was there to see.

“I’m here to see Harry…” she falters, realizing she doesn’t know his name.

The security, an old man with a limp and scrutinizing eyes, looked her up and down and said, “Ya one of dem girls das always botherin’ him ain’tcha? I suggest you turn back and go home. Mr. Styles won’t see you.”

Y/n, with her jaw dropped, stood stunned in the middle of the pathway, not sure what to respond. Surely, he was confused. And whichever “girls that came around bothering Mr. Styles” she wasn’t one of them.

“Go on and git,” he said, crossing his arms and standing possessively in front of a keypad.

She hurried to reach into her bag for her phone, walking back to her car while she punched Harry’s “call” because she didn’t want to stand while an agitated security man watched her.

He picks up the phone, and doesn’t even give her a chance to talk before he says, “is Felix giving you a hard time?” His voice gravelly and knowing.

“The security guard? He said that you won’t see me.” She whines into the receiver.

“Ah yes, the strict old man. Gimme a second.” He hangs up on her, leaving y/n clutching the strap of her bag so hard her knuckles turn white.

“Ms. Y/n?!” Felix calls from behind her. She turns around, surprised to see that his face was completely transformed with a smile. His front tooth is gold and he’s missing a molar. “You can go on ahead, dolly. Mr. Styles just called and said you was a nice ‘un.” He said, punching a thumb into the keypad behind him. “Sorry, bout that Miss. Enjoy the rest ‘ur dey!” He touches the tips of his fore and middle finger to his gleaming forehead and salutes her as she passes him, giggling and blushing.

“Thank you, Felix. You too.”

She walks through, and is greeted with a fine lobby. It really does look like a hotel lobby. Carpeted floors, a receptionist, and a door leading to a pool just outside the elevator. Before she can even wonder where to go, she hears her name being called by a familiar voice,

“Y/n, over here!” Harry calls out, standing in front of open doors to the elevator to her right. He’s wearing a burgundy turtleneck and black slacks that are cuffed at the ankles. Yellow tortoise shell glasses and his hair is parted down the middle making him look like MiloThatch. A lavender towelette is in the grasp of his right hand, and he’s waving it at her like soldier girlfriends saying goodbye on the platforms.

Stunned at his etherealness, y/n felt the roof of her mouth go dry. Staring at the way he filled out his clothing, she walked to him hypnotized, transfixed by his appearance. His chiseled features, boyish grin. She gravitated towards him. Enchanted.

“H-hi, Harry.” she said dreamily. Harry’s eyes raked her up and down when she came to a stop in front of him.

“Why, hello. You look exceptionally lovely right now, darling.” He rasped, looking down at her sternly, all traces of a sweet smile gone and replaced by something a little more serious. A little more sinister. His light green eyes turning a darker shade, y/n’s lips parting and knees weakening.

She musters the words to say, “so do you,” and Harry’s lips turn up at the corners.

“Shall we head up. Pasta and salad is waiting for you.” He turns away from her and presses the circular button that goes red when he pushes it.

“How was-”

“So, you-”

They both say at the same time, laughing and stopping to let the other speak and Harry says, “You go first.”

“I see you’ve a few fans that bother you, and Mr. Felix has taken to guarding them off,” y/n commented. Her eyebrow quirked at him.

Harry laughs, a single loud ha! “Felix just takes his job very seriously. That’s all.”

“Doesn’t change the fact that you have women-” the elevator rings and the doors open, “lined up on your doorstep.” Harry steps in first, and uses his hand to stop the elevator doors from closing in on y/n.

She steps through, and they both stand side by side in the metal encasing. Glancing up, she sees the ceiling is covered in mirror panels.

“Well,” Harry shifts his body so his front is facing her, and takes a step, shoulders taking turns on tilting forward with every slow, torturous step he takes. “Does it,” Y/n takes a step back, breath hitching in her chest, “ bother,” her back collides with the cool wall, the floors on the meter above the doors keep going, 5, 6, “ you?”

He’s a needle away from her nose, his mouth ghosting over her own and his chest rising up and down slowly while hers is an erratic mess. She’s breathing out of her mouth, her eyes shifting between his own two that are fixed and straight on hers. 7, 8, Harry’s hand comes to rest on the right side of her face, caging her between the elevator wall and his bicep, his palm cupped her jaw and running a thumb tenderly over her cheekbone.

“I-I,” she stutters.

“Cat got your tongue, petal?” His breath smells like mint and coffee. The tips of the curls that hang in front of his eyes tickle y/n’s forehead and down the side of her temple and eventually her cheek when he leans in to put his lips at her ear. “Look so pretty right now, y'know?” HIs british drawl is heavy because his tone of voice is low.

8, 9, “Harry,” she gasped, involuntarily tilting her head to the side when he noses at the back of her ear. “What are you doing?”

The elevator comes to a stop at 10, and Harry retracts, leaving her a red, heated mess and slightly panting. He takes the few steps to stand in front of the elevator doors, and clasps his hands behind his back. “Nothing. Nothing at all. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” He smiled at her sweetly, his demeanor innocent as if we weren't just going to ravish her in an elevator like Robet Patterson for that one Dior commercial.

The doors open to a long hallway that turns sharply at the end to the right, a door where it would’ve turned on the left side. The right wall is a window that looks out onto the middle of the building, where y/n could see the pool that had been behind door. The flooring is a green colored tile, the same as the roofing, and the walls are a flattering soft yellow bordering on white.

Harry’s shoes, expensive looking-black heeled boots that have a rainbow pattern on the, making clacking noises against the floor with every step he takes. Y/n can’t help but feel awkward while walking alongside him, but Harry, humming along to the tune of Maneater, by Hall and Oates, doesn’t seem to share her opinions. At the end of the hall, he makes a sharp turn to left, and she bumps into him. Mumbling a sorry she steps back to allow him to open the door.

It’s not locked, and with a quick turn of the brass knob, the door opens and the smell of tomato and basil hits them both in the face.

Y/n’s stomach grumbles, and she places her hand over her bell and looks over at Harry with wide eyes, embarrassed.

“I take it you’re hungry?” He steps through, holding the door open for her.

“...yes…” she mumbled, stepping through.

“Just in time then because I…” Whatever Harry says is drowned out. Y/n is amazed. Harry doesn’t have an apartment. He has a goddamn penthouse suite. His living room wall is a window, his kitchen open and blending in with the rest of the space. There are no walls, just turns where the building walls connect. Tall and wide walls painted with angles of shadows and lights that stream in. No furniture other than a long, wooden dinner table and three white chairs, and his bed. A mattress and a white comforter messily strewn over pillows. Before the walls turn to the streetside view, Y/n catches glimpses of cedar wood bookshelves arranged in the middle of the room; just like in a library.

“Y/n?” Harry appears in her line of peripheral vision, a knowing look on his face.

“Sorry, sorry. What was it?”

“Said, do you want spaghetti and meatballs or fettuccine?”

“Mmm,” She scrunches her face like she’s thinking real hard, “fettuccine.” Then she adds, “please.”

“You got it.” He said, walking away while playing with the collar of his turtleneck. Y/n follows after him, to the kitchen isle and utilities placed in a little alcove underneath the stairs that lead upstairs. To what, y/n didn’t know.

Then she sees the pots and pans that are still steaming, the cutting boards with chopped lettuce and other vegetables and realizes that-

“Hey! You said you had takeout,”

“I did.” He picks up the knife next to the tomato, and continues chopping the lettuce. “But I left it out, and it went bad. I promised you Italian so I made it myself instead. Much better than Olive Garden, anyways.” He shrugs, looking up at her and pointing with the knife to a chair across from him. “Sit.”

“NO!” She said, exasperated. “Let me chop something, too.”

“Darling, this is finished. I’ve got it. Sit, the fettuccine is almost finished. Just,” he twists his neck to look behind him, at the clock above the stove, a cat with a swinging tail. “Five more minutes.”

Y/n slides the bag she carried off her shoulder and hooks it in the back of the chair he had told her to sit on, which she still wasn’t.

“Harry, that’s not fair.” she stomped her foot, a flat slapping noise of her sole against his wooden floors.

“Oh sit, or I won’t give you any food.” He tuts his tongue at her, shaking his knife and turning to turn down one of the knobs on the stove.

Pouting like a child, y/n sits down with a plop and a screech of the chair sliding against the floor.

She sat and watched Harry as he took plates out of his cupboards and placed food on them. The only noises being the quiet bubbling of pasta sauce, the tapping of his heels, clinks of plates against each other, and y/n’s grumbling stomach. Her face was still puckered in a pout because Harry hadn’t let her help him, but it slowly eased off as she focused more and more on the way he looked in his fitting black pants. The way the fabric was tighter on his ass, how his thighs flexed with each stride. Suddenly, y/n got the urge to bite into them, and she felt herself blush at her own thoughts, especially when Harry turned to her with a sweet smile of his lips.

He placed a plate in front of her, complete with salad and garlic knots.

“Would you like some wine? Got this really nice one the other day and I haven’t opened it yet. Figured since we’re having Italian, it fits.” Harry was holding a dark wine bottle in his hand, that he had just pulled out of his silver fridge.

“Harry, I would love some, but-” Y/n tried to explain that she felt bad because she came here for take out and had cooked her a meal.

“NO buts. Have some.” And instantly, there was a cup of red wine next to her plate.

Even though he had a table for eating, he placed his own plate next to her, and sat down to eat. Y/n looked at him, deflated and with a pained look on her face, while he forked spaghetti into his mouth and raised his glass for a drink.

He froze when he saw she was looking at him. Looking her up and down, he said, “Moppet, eat your food. We have work to do.”

Y/n rubbed her palm down her face, her lips pulled down. With a groan, she picked up her fork, sulking, and twirled it in her pasta.

She didn’t know what she was expecting, but definitely not the mini piece of heaven that was in her mouth. Harry had managed to create the perfect blend of cheese and cream that glazed her tongue like silk. It was so good, she moaned, her fingers pressing against her mouth and head tilted back.

“S’good,? Harry questioned, wiping his mouth with a napkin to hide his laugh.

“Very,” she said, shoving more of the pasta into her mouth.

“Good.”

They eat quietly, Harry snickering at her whenever inhumane noises of pleasure left her mouth.Y/n practically cleaned her plate with the garlic knots. She only remembered about the glass of wine when Harry set his down empty, lips stained, and eyes droopy if she looked at him hard enough. After she’d cleaned her plate, she reached for the thin stem of the g;ass and drank it like it was grape juice, only slightly wincing after it had gone down, the tart acidity washing down the sweeter tones of cream.

“Slow down, Moppet. Don’t want you to get a tummy ache.” Harry said, patting her hand tenderly and pushing himself off the seat to place her plate in the sink. At this, y/n jumped from her chair and took the plates from Harry.

“You cooked, not I wash the dishes.” She stuck her tongue out at him, the tip red from the wine.

“But-” Harry protested.

“No buts. Go,” she bumped her hip against his, and walked the last few steps to the sink, picking up the sponge and turning on the water. She washed the dishes, and like always, got the front of her dress wet, water splattering onto her chest. Sucking on her teeth, y/n used the towel hanging on the handle of the oven to pat off the water. Harry watched this from where he leaned against the isle across from the stove; a new glass of wine half empty.

Returning to the table, she grabbed her now full- no thanks to Harry- glass of wine and sipped from it. It settled nicely in her stomach, warming down the path it took to settle.

Clasping her hands, she said, “Okay, Harry. Let’s talk decor.”

Harry untucked his hand from underneath his armpit, and smacked his lips together, “Follow me.”

He started walking out to the living room area, and into the bookshelves y/n had seen. Up close, they were actually taller than her, just about Harry’s height. He walked past them, and stopped again at a corner where one building face meets the other. Here, he had pictures upon pictures laid out on the floor. He even had scraps of fabric.

Y/n stared, and nodded approvingly. “You did your research. Good job.” Looking closer, she saw what the images were. Albums (David Bowie, Stevie Nicks, Fleetwood Mac, The Eagles, The Beatles, Prince). Pop culture pieces (Andy Narwhal, Pulp Fiction, Sixteen Candles). Fabric patterns, colors, and a lot of velvet. About half of the pictures were shots of other room like the pictures he’d shown her.

To her left, Harry tapped onto his phone, and seconds later, that song he’d been humming in the hallway, Maneater, played with clarity on speakers hidden from the eye. When he was satisfied with his queue choices, he knee and sat next to his big circle of inspiration, legs splayed out in front of him looking infinitely long. Y/n noticed he had taken off his boots, and his feet, knobby and lanky, had toes painted blue and pink. He had black markings on his big toe, but she couldn’t see what it was.

“Look, sit sit, I was thinking…” Harry began, patting the area next to him and grabbing a few of the papers he had spewed on the floor. Y/n, inexplicably endeared, sat with her legs crossed to the side next to him, feeling her butt press onto the cold floor, and listened to him go on and on about his vision.

Hours passed with them just talking about images, why Fleetwood Mac would go better than Prince (because Fleetwood Mac is more of an afternoon in the meadows, and Prince is a night going down the highway in Malibu) and fabric choices for the windows (i’m sorry Harry, y/n had argued, but unless you can find a near translucent velvet its not gonna work. If you want the summer in italy during the 70’s look, you need transparent curtains).

They sat long enough that the way the light filtered in at an angle according to the sun, changed completely (it was at a harsh slant with the morning light, now its at a soft bend with golden light). When the light made Harry’s face look a golden pink, he fell back onto the wooden floors with a groan and said,

“How do you do this, y/n?” He blew hair out of his lips to move the few strands that had fallen in front of his eyes.

“Dunno, its just second natur- heeyy,”

A midst the mess, she guesses they missed it. Underneath a picture of a fruit bowl and flowers, was a picture of a naked woman, with birds eye view from the bot of her head, so you could see the tips of her breasts with they way she arched her back, and the head of hair in between her thighs. Her mouth was open in a silent scream of pleasure, eyes closed and a hand fisting her own hair like she was doing to the man in between her thighs.

Her cheeks burn upon her discovery, and she feels a familiar buzz in the place where the woman in the picture had a tongue pressed against her.

When he heard her little gasp, Harry shot straight up and when he saw the image in her hands he said, “Ah, I see you’ve finally found it. Was wonderin’ when it would come out.” Reaching across her, his chest smushed againt her shoulder, he plucks it from her hands and look at it, smirking.

“You didn’t tell me we’d be doing x-rated work.”

She says it teasingly.

But maybe it was the way she was looking at him then. She couldn’t help it. The roots of his hair looked blonde in the light, and his eyes were clear, almost see through as light passed them. His lips looked particularly tasty, having been tinted red from the wine, glinting from his own spit, and swollen from how he’d plucked at them while he was thinking about her suggestions. The juncture of his throat was partly hidden, but she could still see every time he swallowed, hos his adam’s apple bobbed up and down. And… and it wasn’t her fault that black pants looked good on him either. The material stretching taught over his muscles, flexing with every, single movement he made, no matter how small.

So, maybe she had been looking at his provocatively, and her comment had… fueled Harry. Tuned him in on what had been on her mind.

He lifts himself with one arm from his indian-style position on the floor, up to his knees, and crawls to her. Eyes looking with hers, y/n’s chest starts to heave, her breaths growing bated; shorter; faster.

“Do you want to do x-rated work?” He said, his voice dangerously low. His rings clink against the wooden planks, and brush against her thighs when he comes close, hands bracketing her hips, his nose nudging hers.

She’s gupping, like a little guppy fish, her lips opening and close, but nothing comes out of them.

Harry’s nose moves to her cheek, pushing back her hair. “It’s okay, pet. I can ask you again. Do you want,” his lips are at her ear for the second time that day, except that she thinks maybe they’ll actually gets somewhere this time. All she has to do is say,

“Yes.” Her voice is small, an airy squeak when Harry presses a kiss to the back of her ear. Her hands, sitting dumbly on her lap, move tentatively to his chest, searching from something to hold onto. She clenches the soft fabric in her hands just as Harry starts to lean back, his palm falling into her naval, and pushing her back, back, back, until she has to stretch her legs out to lay comfortable on her back, staring up at him with bleary eyes, glossed over.

“Yes? Course you do, pet.” He moves his knees to straddle her hips, leaning down close so he’s almost talking into her mouth, and one of his hands smooths down the shape of her waist. Y/n feels herself grow wet when Harry dips his thumb into her belly button, and she’s whining because she hasn’t done anything with anybody in so long and she wants him to do something.

But, if he’s not gonna do anything, that she might as well. She stretched her neck the last of the way, flattening her lips against Harry’s. The relief is instant, she quells her desire of being closer to him, and Harry responds almost immediately, swiping his tongue on her bottom lip and licking into her when she lets him. Harry groans, because she still tastes like wine and a sweetness he can only credit to her. His kiss becomes urgent, smashing his against her soft, malleable mouth.

Y/n whimpers, hips jutting upwards when Harry takes her lower lip between his teeth, and bites down on it,hard enough to where the pain was pleasure. Although her mind is swimming, she knows that the bulge she feels through the flimsy cloth of her dress is Harry’s cock. Elated and driven mad by her need, she arches up into him, needing any friction she could.

Harry pulls away from her, their lips separating with a wet noise, and tuts his tongue at her. “Ah, ah, ah. You’re not getting my cock tonight, y/n. Not yet.”

She mewls, her eyebrows dipping and red, puffy lips pouting, “Harry, don’t be a tease. S’not fair.” She doesn’t care is she sounds pathetic, the space between her thighs aches, and she’d like him to very much sate it “Do something, please.”

He coos at her, pressing wet kisses along her neck, his hand sneaking past her waist, to the start of her dress, and slipping underneath it. “Whining like a little puppy, aren’t you?” His hand glides of her thigh, the shill of his rings sending a violent shiver up her spine. His nail scratches a path near the place where she’s most warm. Most needy, and she moans when he feels how close he is to touching her, the splotch on her panties expanding every time he spoke. “You’re alright puppy, I’ll take care of you.”

Y/n’s breath hitches when his finger hooks onto the strap of her underwear, snapping the material twice with a chuckle at the cries he elicited from her.

“Harry, harry, harry,” she’s half mad with need, her eyes squeezed shut with anticipation, and when Harry sees the desperation in her slack mouth, his own features go soft, and he takes out his hand from underneath her dress to cup her cheek.

“Puppy,” he said, and when she didn’t open her eyes, he said again, “Puppy, look at me.” his thumb rubs over her cheek, ignoring the imploring whines that leave her lips, and instead leaning down and kissing her to shut her up. “It’s okay, its okay. Do you want me to keep going?”

“Yes!” She shouted, eyes going wide, amazed that he’d even ask that. “Do something.” She ruts up again, the head of Harry’s cock nudging against her hood. Harry groans, noticing how fucking hard he is. He’s leaked through his pants, a darker splotch where his head it.

“Fuck, baby,” he said, more to himself than to her.

His hand makes the same trail it had before, flipping up her dress this time to see her clothed center. Her panties make him want to cum on the spot. Baby pink cotton with a bow on the center of the band. Biting his lip, he uses a knee to spread her thighs, and then he sees just how much she needs him.

“Oh puppy. We’ve made a mess of your panties haven’t we?” He looks at her with amusement, “Guess they have to go, don’t they?”

Y/n hums desperately, her hips writhing up to meet his fingers. Pressing a last kiss to her lips, Harry scoots back so his knees are by her feet, and he and slip off the material all the way off. Suddenly aware of how bare she is, he clasps her thighs sht, obscuring Harry’s view of her pussy.

“C’mon now, honey. Don’t be shy,” with a strong hand, he pries her knees apart and lays himself down in front of her, his breath hot on her swollen clit. From that angle, he can see how much she glistens, and how her juices spill out of her every time she clenched her hole around nothing. “Look at you, just begging to be stuffed.”

With a single finger, he slides up and down her slit, collecting her wetness, and then slipping into her.

Y/n bleats, his intrusion stirring her heat up more; she wanted more. Wanted to be filled than more with just his finger, but was scared to say. Instead she said, “another,”

Harry slid his middle finger inside her, scissoring his fingers and leaning down to lick a stripe on her clit. Y/n arched her back, and moaned loudly, her eyes squeezing shut and hands touching at the area around her, looking for something to hold on to and settling to clenching at her own dress.

He hears the sound of her hands colliding with the floor, and looks up to see her knuckles going white with hoe hands she was fondling her dress.

“Y’can pull my hair, puppy.” he said against her slit, the vibrations of his words sending prickled of pleasure to the building orgasm she feels in the pit of her stomach. The second her muddled brain comprehends what Harry said, her fingers jam themselves into her his hair, just as he suckles on her. Y/n’s eyes roll to the back of her head, and her gasps come out in staccatos.

Harry’s fingers are still pumping in an out of her, twisting every time he pushed them back into her. He’s looking for the spongy spot inside of her, when he hears her say something incoherently.

“What was that?” he asked her,his fingers stilling inside her.

“Said, what about you?”

Her voice is faint and weak, her voice and comment sending pin-pricks of satisfaction to his throbbing member. His heart clenches at her considerations, so touched by the fact that she’s so lost in her own heat but she’s still worried about him.

“This isn’t about me. It’s about you. Y’gonna cum for me, puppy?” He feels the pad of his middle finger slide against something that has a different texture that the rest of her, and when her breathing hitches and she lets out a long moan, he knows hes found what he’s looking for. Y/n’s pussy clenches around, her fingers tighten in his hair, so hard it makes Harry yelp. “Clenching m’fingers, puppy, I know you’re there.”

Y/n feels the familiar slow burn of her orgasm twisting in the pit of her stomach, her entire body hyper aware of Harry and what he was doing to her. How he pressed a hand on her navel to keep her from lifting her hips, the harsh sucking of her clit, and then finally the flick of his pointer finger curling inside her. The build-up unravels, and her mouth opens up in a silent scream like the women in the picture, her body going taught, and then falling limp when the wave calms.

“That’s it, love. All better now isn’t it?” Harry slowly takes his fingers out of her, reveling in the way she’s still squeezing around him. She’s sensitive and jerking from her orgasm when He lick his fingers clean, kissing his path up her body. Her thighs, her exposed navel, her clothed valley of her breasts, her collarbones, and up her throat, behind her ear where he’s taken a liking to kissing.

“Jesus, Harry. Where’d you learn to talk like that?” She titters sleepily.

“S’my job, puppy.” He nibbles at her earlobe and down her jawline.

Alarmed, y/n’s eyes pop open, and she sits up, pushing Harry’s chest and holding him at arms length. “What do you mean, it’s your job?” She’s scared she’s just been used or something along those lines.

“I mean it’s my job. Learned a few skills from writing erotica, pet.” He responses calmly, diving back in to continue his assault on the skin of her jaw. His voice warped against her, he adds, “write under a pseudonym. Lemus Knox.”

Lemus Knox.

Harry was Lemus Knox. Harry was Lemus fucking Knox.

“You’re…” she’s still. Almost like that fight or flight instinct.

Harry stills when he realizes she has. He knows, simply by the tone of her voice that she knows who he is. Who Lemus Knox is.He withdraws to look at her, grinning fro ear to ear.

“You know who I am?” he said slowly.

“Harry, I’d even go as far as saying I’m in love with Lemus,” she blurts, reddening as soon as the words leave her mouth, but Harry just smiles fondly at her.

“That’s okay, puppy. Lemus and I aren’t the same person. You have a right to love him,” he nuzzles into her neck, kissing down her shoulder, “Just as long as you save some love for me.”

And lying there, completely stunned ant with Harry’s hard cock pressing into her hip, y/n bursts out laughing. She laughs because she’s happy. Because she likes Harry. Because she loves Lemus Knox.

She laughs because for the first time in a long time, someone is laughing along with her, kissing her, holding her.

She laughs because she can’t wait to see where Harry will lead her.

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the-navistar-carol · 4 years

Text

Garmari — Rainy Days

Written in roughly two to three hours for @waywardpr1ncess due to the fact that SOMEONE (ahem, @cassiopeiathequeen and @ethelphantom) in the Maribat Discord was angsting it up last night. 1.4k, ish

Bonus points if someone guesses the totally-obvious movie at the end, lol

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It had been raining all day. Normally, this would be somewhat of a downer, as her favorite inspiration places were outside, but this time, her boyfriend was over.

Seventeen-year-old Marinette Dupain-Cheng leaned back onto a mound of pillows, hand-sewing a skirt. It was going to be a shorter skirt, one that ended at almost her knee (with pockets!), and made of the prettiest forest green silk. She’d saved for weeks to buy the yardage she needed.

Her boyfriend, Garfield Logan (yes that one), sat at her computer, idly playing Run. Every so often, there’d be a sad pew-pew-pew noise as his character died, but it had faded into the background noise as she worked, chill lo-fi playing from her speakers.

It was going to be a swishy skirt, which she was immensely proud of. It would be smooth and twirl well, and most of all look cute.

As the raindrops grew fatter and came harder down, she turned up her music ever so slightly, lips pursed in concentration as she sewed down the pinned-in pleats.

Thunder boomed in the distance, and the disappointing sound of pew-pew-pew followed soon after. Not even a few seconds later: pew-pew-pew.

Marinette glanced up from her sewing only to see her boyfriend lose for a third time in a row in just about as many seconds.

“Gar, you good over there?”

He glanced over, an easy grin flopping over his face. “Course! I’m with the prettiest girl in the world, stuck in her room, and the famous Dupain-Cheng cookies. How could I not be good? Asides — How come the god of thunder couldn’t speak after getting his teeth pulled?”

She felt a fond grin tug at her lips. “I dunno, why?”

“He was too Thor!”

Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling, shaking her head at him. “That was so dumb.”

“It wasn’t dumb if it made you smile, Nettie.”

Pew-pew-pew.

She went back to her sewing, lulled into the trance of needle and fabric.

Thunder boomed again, and a sharp hiss drew her attention from her work as Garfield lost again, his fingers twitching on the keyboard.

Pew-pew-pew.

“Gar?”

“It’s nothing, Nettie, just a tough run, is all. I’ve got another one for ya, wanna hear it?” He leaned back in her chair, drumming his fingers on her desk.

A huff escaped before she looked at him again, an eyebrow raised. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.” This time she set down her sewing, leaning back on her pillows.

Her boyfriend couldn’t stop himself from grinning even before he told the punchline. “Why shouldn’t you smoke weed in a thunderstorm?”

Hang on, she heard this one before. “Because the lightning will strike the highest object?”

Gar cackled, slapping the desk. “Yes!” After his laughter died down, which she observed with great amusement, he gave her a very fake pout. “You stole my punchline.”

“Get better jokes,” Marinette teased, and stuck out her tongue at him.

The thunder boomed again, and this time she saw him flinch. Her laughter died as soon as she spotted the minute movement, and she set the skirt-to-be aside.

“Gar?”

“It’s a’ight, Nettie, chill!” He raised his hands in surrender, but she noticed he didn’t meet her eyes. “It’s just thunder — which, by the way, is it because of the storm, or do the angels just want you back?”

She huffed a fond laugh, stood, stretched, and then headed over to set her sewing back in its box. Marinette spun her way to his chair, where he was leaning back, watching her, and bent, her hands behind her back, and kissed him Spiderman-style.

She only drew back enough to look him in the eye. “Cuddles?”

“How can I ever deny that?” Gar grinned, and spun the chair to wrap an arm around her waist, stand, pick her up, and flop backwards onto her bed.

The rain came down harder again, and she snuggled into his side, head on his chest. His arms were wrapped around her, and the lo-fi floated throughout her bedroom.

But then the thunder boomed again, and this time lightning flashed with it. For a split second, her entire room was white. She felt Garfield flinch beneath her, and his arms tightened around her body.

Marinette raised her head, just enough to look him in the eye, and brought up her arms to rest them on his chest, feeling the rise and fall of his breathing. “Gar, seriously. You know you can tell me what’s up.”

Instantly, his gaze flicked away to stare at a piece of her ceiling. “Yeah. Yeah, I know.”

“Do you mind telling me what’s going on?” Her voice was soft, and she lowered her head to rest it on his chest again, still looking at him.

No response.

“Is it the—”

Thunder boomed like a gunshot, and he jolted like he had been shocked, pulling her close. She could feel his heart racing beneath her arms.

Quieter, she asked, “Gar?”

“It’s the thunder, alright?” he bit out, and immediately, pain twisted his features. “I’m sorry,” he breathed, gently rubbing her back. Still staring up at the ceiling, he slumped back into her mattress. “I’m sorry, Nettie, I shouldn’t have snapped at you. You don’t deserve that.”

Marinette found his hand and laced her fingers through his, then gave his hand a soft squeeze. “It’s okay,” she told him, and squeezed his hand again. Her other hand cupped his face and she gently ran her fingers through his hair. “It’s alright. It’s okay to be scared of the little things.”

“But I’m a Titan,” Garfield told her, defeat slumping his shoulders. “I shouldn’t be afraid of that stuff. I’ve faced down the devil, hordes of demons, my best friend… and worse. I shouldn’t be quaking at the sound of a little thunder!”

“I’m scared of dogs,” she told him, and felt his body twist beneath her as he looked up at her, disbelief warring with confusion. “Even medium-sized ones, like, larger than a Labrador. If I don’t know them… I’m afraid.” Marinette gave him a small, slightly-sad smile. “It’s a dumb fear, I know. But it’s really affected me. And you’ve helped me with it, believe it or not. Every time you shift into a dog, it helps me not to be scared.

“So can I help you here?”

She knew he was going to pull her close before he even did it. Gar sat up and tugged her into a tight hug, resting his head on her shoulder. She could feel his heartbeat pulsing against hers. It was calmer than it had been.

“God,” he breathed, shaking his head ever so slightly. “What did I ever do to deserve you, Nettie?” Another beat passed, and then she felt him nod against her shoulder. “Don’t think it’s about returning a favor—”

“It’s not,” she soothed, rubbing his back. “It never was. It’s because you’re my boyfriend and I love you and I hate to see you flinch.” Marinette pressed a kiss to his hair. “It’s because I wanna help with this, Gar. I’d never think of it as anything else.”

The thunder boomed again, and he flinched wildly this time, tensing and tightening his hold on her.

“D’you wanna watch a movie?” Marinette shifted so that she could look him in the eye, pressing her forehead to his. “I’ve got Disney+ and you’ve got the Titans’ Netflix account.”

“A movie sounds great,” he admitted, closing his eyes briefly. “You pick.”

She grinned, and kissed his nose. “You have given me great power, Garfield Logan.”

“Then use it well.” She heard a tinge of laughter return to his voice.

“Don’t you quote Harry Potter at me!” Marinette laughed, and kissed him on the lips for real this time before sliding out of his grip and finding her phone. She scrolled through the movies before grinning. “Oh, this is perfect.”

“Don’t tell me it’s the new Star Wars, Nettie, even I’ve got my limits.” The thunder boomed yet again, and she heard him flinch and rustle her blankets.

Her only response was a grin, and she synced her phone with her computer screen, turning it toward the two of them. A few minutes later, she hopped back onto her bed and snuggled back into him as the Disney theme began playing.

A minute later, she was rewarded with an exasperated groan that was quickly followed by laughter. “Wow, Nettie.”

“Oh, don’t pretend like you won’t be singing along,” she accused playfully.

Gar kissed her forehead, and snaked his arms around her waist to tug her flush against him.

Once upon a time, in the hidden heart of France, the narration began, a handsome young Prince lived in a beautiful castle...

#garmari #marinette dupain-cheng #garfield logan #ml #dc #ml x dc #maribat #ladybug #miraculous ladybug #detective comics #teen titans #ladybug and chat noir #beast boy #rainy days #fluff #thunder #lightning #very very frightening #ME

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comic-nerd-dc · 4 years

Text

Dick Grayson x oc

Pardon it may suck and has more mature themes so be forewarned and some curse words and hinting at stuff and I’m sorry if this sucks

——————————————————————————

Dick fucking Grayson, I'm moving to Detroit, ok I wasn’t going to let my best friend move alone until he fucking disappeared and I’ve been searching for this boy across the country to find him in some stupid safe house so I show up at the compound and bang on the wall because I know that’s the door.

“Richard John Grayson you let me in or I swear to god I will cut off your” and the door opened. Now I a bit younger than him at 20 while he’s 22 but I’ve known him since the circus days. My parents were killed that night as well, I just didn't get a millionaire to take me in. I bounced from foster care till I was on my own

“You better have a real fucking good explanation for LEAVING ME IN DETROIT” I yell when I see someone in the corner of my eyes a boy maybe a year or two younger than me

“Who is she,” the boy asks

“Not important” Dick snaps

“Who is he,” I ask

“Not important” I ignore him

“Hi I’m Aaliyah nice to meet ya,” I say winking when arms around my waist yank me back

“No,” Dick says and I turn around remembering I’m mad at him

“Oh yeah and next time you decide to skip town maybe write a fucking note” I snap

“I would have never just left also I’m Jason” he adds in

“Hi Jason” I wink “see Jason would have never left me behind”

“Will you stop talking for a second god your annoying” Dick snaps instantly realizing what he said see I got used to being called a whore or dumbass but I’m not sure why annoying was my trigger word

“I see, uhh ill just leave then, sorry for caring,” I say I can feel the tears falling

“No you know that’s not what I meant I’m sorry, Aalyiah I- don’t leave” I hear dick begging

“No it’s fine I get it, who needs me” I snap

“I do” Jason finally says and I look at him and smile, he opens his arms in a hug so I walk over and hug him, tall enough for my head to rest on his chest as my tears dry we sit but I stay near Jason.

“Aalyiah come on get away from him” he tries but when 3 people walk in.

“Who are they,” the oldest girl asks

“Not important” I answer

“You seem important to me,” the green-haired boy says trying to flirt I smile and move to go talk to him and be polite when Jason grabs my waist pulling me closer to him. I look at him and he’s glaring at greeny

“Jay whatcha doing,” I ask with a smile and his eyes light up

“Jay?” he asks about the nickname

“Well yeah I just though Jason, jay, is that ok,” I ask suddenly self-conscious and he nods vigorously

“Nope” I hear and suddenly I’m over a shoulder

“What the hell,” I ask

“Dick what are you doing,” the redhead says

“Give me one second to deal with this korie thanks” he turns and starts to walk away I just stop struggling

“Ouch,” I say as he just drops me into the floor of apparently a bathroom

“What the fuck Aalyiah,” he asks

“What the fuck me, what the fuck you” I snap

“You show up out of nowhere pissing on me dressed like a hooker and then hit on my replacement, he’s too young for you” he snaps

“I showed up after driving trying to find my best friend who ditched out of nowhere and I got worried when you didn't come home, I’m pissing on you because I was scared and angry you left me behind, and I’m dressed like a hooker because not everyone has a rich foster dad and gas cost money about half way threw the trip I ran out and needed to do something, by the way, its fucking cold” I snap his eyes widen and he pulls off his coat placing it on me

“You got a temporary job as a Stripper to pay to come to find me,” he asks in disbelief

“Sure Stripper that’s it” I attempt to lie and he takes a step back

“No,” he says more to himself and I look down embarrassed

“Oh my god, you prostituted?” he says

“Are you,- don’t patronize me, I also don’t have any other clothes?” I ask but instead of answering he just throws me back over his shoulder

“You know I can walk right” I laugh

“Yes but I like having power over you” he laughs and I roll my eyes he plops me down in the middle of the floor

“This is Aalyiah, my best friend since she was born” he smiles

“Since she was born how old is she,” kore asks

“ Hi umm I’m 20” I hear Jay say yes under his breath

“ that’s Rachel and Garfield” he smiles

“How do you fit them all in the Porsche?” I ask and he looks down

“Noooo, you got a van” I laugh

“Fill me in,” I say and they do

“Ok so you three stay here while Dick, Jay and I go get the other dude” I smile

“How are you coming,” Dick asks

“Hard and fast baby” he laughs at the inside joke

“Undercover obviously, its a lot less noticeable when a guy and a girl go to a club than just a guy I’m Jays blend in” I smile

“Jasons? What about me” Dick asks almost jealous

“You are over 21, dicky” I smile

“You’re not” he adds

“You are absolutely correct my friend but people don’t question a girl with an amazing fake ID and you know how far I would go for you so don’t push it” I smile

“Who wants to see how far she’d go for him because I sure as hell do,” Garfield says and Jason and he both raise their hands

“No, oh my god, no stop hitting on her, come on Jason go change meet here in like 20 we have to change as well” dick adds we walk to his room

“Hey, are you okay?” I ask

“Yeah, just please stop flirting with Jason” he begs

“Why jealous” I push until he turns around walking towards me, I step back into a wall and he cages me in with his arms

“And if I was, would you stop,” he asks lips brushing mine as he speaks

“Dick your not doing this to me again,” I say putting my hands on his chest to push him away even though I don’t push

“What do you mean, last time was great wasn’t it?” he questions, the last time we fucked was about a 3 weeks ago and then I woke up and he was gone.

“ Dick I’m not some plaything ok, I’m too attached to you to do that again because you don’t want me. You want your best friend and a good lay on the side and that’s not me, I’m not yours” I say

“Of course you are, come one Aalyiah and I’m not so possessive that you would be broken in the end come on you know me better than that,” he says and I look him in the eyes not backing down

“Dick, I’ve prostituted myself to find you, I’ve worn another man’s collar while he fucked me, one man was into knife play I still have the scar,” I say pulling my dress up showing the scars on my body

“I’ve done things I never want to do again to find you, how does that feel deep down, because I wouldn’t change a thing it meant I could find you, but what happens in 2 months when you run off again and I have to find you, what happens when I’m yours you want to kill any man who touches me because I know that, that is you, Dick, I saw it with Barbra” I snap

“I won’t ever leave you again sandy come on, and you aren’t Barbra,” he says and I sigh smiling up at him

“Your right I’m not, you committed to Barbra. Look Dick don’t take it personally, I’m not yours, your not mine, so I can fuck whoever I like and so can you, can I borrow some clothes” I smile

“Uh, yeah I guess, this is new to me,” he says handing me a shirt and a pair of jeans, I go grab a shoelace from his shoes

“What is, rejection?” I laugh

“Yes actually” he snaps and I look at him

“I’ll just change somewhere else then if your gonna be that way,” I say

“I'm not trying to hurt you Aalyiah, and you know that but god damn it, I saw dawn a week ago and you just brought up Barbra and all I could think of was how nither of them compared to you, and you won’t even give me a chance,” he says

“Would I be your girlfriend” I snap

“What,” he asks

“You heard me, would I be your girlfriend, or would I just be left without that commitment,” I ask

“Yeah you would be my girlfriend,” he says

“Yeah ok, we can try,” I say

“ But I am still faking with Jason tonight” I smile, kiss his cheek and walk into the bathroom to shower

“What just happened” I hear him ask himself when I’m done I change into his top and jeans using the shoelace to fit them around my waist and roll up the legs

“Alrighty how do I look,” I ask

“Beautiful, so I can kiss you when I want now right, like in front of those people out there to prove you are mine?” he asks and I laugh and nod as we walk back to the living room area

“Alrighty ready to go, Jay,” I ask as Dick puts an arm around my waist

“If yall are dating you should know like 2 weeks ago we had sex,” korie says and my eyes widen

“You what” I snap

“Don’t even go there Aalyiah” he gives me a look and I know I wouldn’t win that battle

“ Rude” I snap and we walk to the club

“ID” bouncer asks and I show him mine as he just assumes Jason’s same as me we get in

“Stay hidden and be careful ok,” Dick says before finding his guy except then the club like burns down and we get thrown out because of Jason and we lose Our friend from the circus they both change into the costume and I go in in the shirt and jeans

“Richard Grayson you killed my dad ill kill him,” he says and I walk over to grab our friend but he had acid hitting him drip by drip and while Jason tried to Cuss the guy out Dick tried to reason with him and argue with Jason, I went over and started to untie Clayton letting the acid hit me instead of him and I get him out with burns up and down my back and arms once out the plant explodes and Jay runs off and Dick gets Clayton to safety and I pretend everything is fine until I get back to the Compound and Dick smiles at me

“We did it Lyiah,” he says and I pass out when I wake up again I have bandages everywhere I go to sit up

“She’s awake” I hear Gar yell and see Dick sit up by my side

“Why the fuck didn't you say anything you could have died you’re kidding me right” he snaps and I grab his hand

“Dick are you going to yell at me more or kiss me,” I ask and his face softens and he leans down to kiss me

“Eww its lowkey like watching your parents kiss” I hear Rachel say and I flip her off and hear her laugh as she and the others walkout

“How long was I out?” I ask and he smiles

“A few hours we got you bandaged and you where good, you scared me,” he says and I laugh

“Imagine how I felt in Detroit” he smiles at me

“Even” he sticks out his hand as a handshake agreement

“Even” i grab his hand and pull him into another kiss

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wander-over-the-words · 5 years

Text

Home of the Waiting Riddler (And His Mousy Companion)

Summary: The months of September and October were lonely for Edward Nygma. The last night of October made the wait for Jonathan to come home to him just a bit easier. (The first day of November, however, he could have done without…Maybe.)

Characters: Vicki Vale, Simon Stagg, Edward Nygma, Jonathan Crane/Scarecrow, Bernie, Batman; mentioned Commissioner James Gordon, Harvey Dent, Oswald Cobblepot, Selina Kyle, Harley Quinn, the Joker, Pamela Isley, Calendar Man, Victor Fries, Nora Fries, Garfield Lynns, Harvey Bullock, Query, Echo, Warren White, Waylon Jones.

Pairings: Jonathan Crane/Edward Nygma. Mentions of Joker/Harley Quinn and Pamela Isley/Harley Quinn.

Warnings: involuntary drugging, hallucinations, body horror, blood, bodily harm; mentions of murder, firearm usage, sexual themes, stealing and breaking in.

Notes: No terrifying Halloween fic for this year, just a sweet, shippy Halloween fic about Ed waiting for his man to come home.

A WanderVerse fic.

Chapter 3 of 3.

All material belongs to DC Comics (although, my interpretations of the characters are used).

Link to fic on AO3.

…

“…concerning his airship’s involvement with the Scarecrow’s schemes last night, Simon Stagg had this to say.”

“I had nothing to do with what that madman did to Gotham!” Simon snapped, throwing his arms up into the air.

Just off-screen, the reporter interviewing him flinched backwards, but made sure to keep their microphone held under Simon’s chin.

“My company has been victim to rumours and insinuations in the past, but to assume I would go into business with a mentally-deranged man who dresses like a scarecrow just to drug people?! I’m insulted. I would never work with any of Gotham’s Rogues!”

“But, Mr. Stagg,” the reporter cut in, “the bombs dropped over Bleake Island were stored inside your airship, and you want to tell us you had absolutely no idea they were in there?”

“Of course I had no idea! Don’t any of you pay attention?! That madman hijacked one of my airships, right under my nose! Not to mention, the equipment for my newest project was being transported on that airship! It will take months - no - years to recreate all of that! Don’t you people understand?! I’m the victim of this situation!”

“…Well, I’d say Bleake Island’s citizens are the victims here.”

“I…Y-Yes, them too…”

From his place upon the middle couch of the three in the living room, back in his sweater vest with his hair gelled back again, Edward gave the television a deadpanned look, then scoffed and shook his head.

“As if Jon would get that buffoon involved in his Halloween…”

Jonathan didn’t allow anybody to aid in his Halloween. Not henchmen, not the Rogues, no one. If he needed something from someone to complete his work, he would steal it.

“As of right now,” Vicki Vale went on as she reappeared on screen, “information from sources within the GCPD has confirmed that the Scarecrow was not reprimanded last night, and is currently still at large. Commissioner Gordon advises everybody in Gotham to stay sharp, stay alert, but stay calm. Should you encounter or witness the Scarecrow, please, contact the GCPD as soon as possible.”

On the screen came a photograph of Jonathan in full Scarecrow gear, and Edward scoffed again, then peered around his laptop to speak to the mouse in the cage on the coffee table.

“If they wanted to catch Jon so badly,” he said, “they would show him without his costume, isn’t that right, Bernie? What, do they think he walks around in it all the time?” Edward paused, looked away in thought, then shrugged one shoulder. “Well - it’s a fair assumption, I suppose.”

He shrugged both shoulders and shook his head as he went back to typing. “But he has a mugshot, for God’s sake. I’ve seen it! It’s not a great picture, but it’s a picture nonetheless.” He shook his head, then peered around his laptop again. “Then again, Gotham is full of morons, isn’t it, Bernie, dear? We’re the smart ones, aren’t we, you and I?”

Bernie looked up from where she was chewing on the peanut gifted to her by Edward for good behaviour, then she dipped her head to quickly finish the thing off in a couple of nibbles. After that, she immediately turned and ran over to her wheel, hopping on to begin some exercise.

Edward flinched as the green plastic wheel rattled loudly, the sound like a spike to his eardrums and his brain, and he frowned at her. “I know you’re doing that to annoy me, and it’s very impolite.”

Bernie just kept on running, so Edward huffed and disappeared back behind his laptop. He picked his left leg up off of his right and used his foot to push the can of peanuts away from Bernie’s cage.

“No more peanuts for you, then…” he muttered, returning to his work.

Not ten minutes later, Edward heard the stairs creak and a loud yawn, and he turned around to find Jonathan descending the last few steps. He looked to the clock on the wall, discovered it was nearing two o’clock in the afternoon, then turned back to Jonathan to smile at him.

“Why, there’s my King-made monster,” Edward chirped, closing his laptop so he could give his full attention back to the room. He looked to Bernie. “Look, dear, your father is alive after all.”

Jonathan puffed out something between a grunt and a chuckle as he finally opened his eyes properly, glasses perched upon his nose so he no longer saw his environment and his loved ones as colourful blobs. He was still in his boxers and socks, but at least he’d put on a t-shirt.

The rattling of Bernie’s plastic wheel came to a stop as she hopped off of it, recognising that her true owner was in the room. She scurried to the side of her cage, lifting herself up onto her hind legs and placing her paws on one of the horizontal bars of her cage. She sniffed at the air in Jonathan’s direction, squeaking at him.

Jonathan scratched at his hair as he approached Bernie’s cage, the door of which he opened with a smile, reaching his arm inside to collect Bernie onto his hand.

Unlike with Edward, Bernie didn’t hesitate with Jonathan, whom she was far more used to and - quite frankly - was more fond of. She allowed him to scoop her up gently, where he carefully cupped his other hand around her back and lifted her up to his face.

“Aw, Bernie,” Jonathan cooed to her, “Dr. Crane missed you. D’you miss him too?”

Bernie placed her paws against Jonathan’s cheek and rose up on her hind legs again, sniffing at the left lens of his glasses, making Jonathan laugh warmly and inch his head back to avoid getting a whisker in the eye.

He made kissing noises at her, then petted her gently with one finger.

“See?” Edward said as he watched, one leg crossed over the other again. “Safe and sound, as I said.”

Jonathan hummed, then cocked his head at Bernie. “What’d he do ta you, baby girl? He annoy you? Make you uncomfortable? S’okay, he does the same ta me.”

Edward’s expression drooped, lips pursing, in the classic look of a displeased Riddler. “Charming. I’ll have you know Bernie had a spectacular time with me, and that she did all the annoying, thank you very much.” He frowned at her cage, glaring at the plastic wheel. “I think she’s learned that thing’s rattling bothers me. She gets on it whenever I walk into the room. Cheeky, little thing…”

Jonathan chuckled and petted Bernie again. “Good girl. C’mon, you come with me…”

He transferred Bernie to his shoulder with delicately cupped hands; she had no problem scampering onto the bony perch, Jonathan’s shoulder so solid and Bernie so small. Jonathan kept a hand hovered near her to ensure she didn’t fall as he turned to walk toward the kitchen, then dropped it when he was certain she was safe.

Edward’s brow furrowed, perturbed by the lack of greeting or thanks in his direction. He and Jonathan had seen each other a handful of times in the last two months, had had only one genuine conversation in all that time, and Edward had taken time out of his precious schedule to take care of Jonathan’s beloved pet in his place, yet he received not a word about it other than some brief mocking.

He frowned and opened his laptop again. If Jonathan didn’t want to acknowledge his hard work, then he wasn’t going to acknowledge Jonathan’s.

He was aware of the kitchen utilities being used and Jonathan murmuring and cooing at Bernie as he worked, then Jonathan stepped back into the living room with the Wizard of Oz mug that had the Scarecrow circled with marker, the colon-capital D emoticon written beside it to indicate the reference (it’d been a gift from Harley).

Jonathan set his mug down on the table, then he sat down beside Edward and carefully removed Bernie from his shoulder, holding her in cupped hands in his lap as she pushed his fingers about, sniffing and gently nibbling him. He chuckled at her and pushed back to play with her.

Edward’s frown deepened and he clicked his spacebar with more force than necessary.

Jonathan looked up, eyed his screen for a moment, then sniffed and looked back to Bernie.

“So,” he said casually to Edward, “I miss anythin’ important while I was sleeping?”

Edward shrugged a shoulder. “Oh, nothing much. Bernie ate a hearty breakfast of banana and peach chips,” (Jonathan faked a gasp and lifted Bernie to grin at her, then placed her back in his lap) “and I myself had some French toast. Or, at least, I tried to. It was practically congealed by the time I got to it.”

“Oh?” Jonathan asked, more to humour Edward by talking than due to actual interest.

“Yes.” Edward looked up from his work to direct his frown at Jonathan. He said, with sarcastic delight, “Harvey would like me to inform you that he has a bone to pick with you.” He rolled his eyes as he turned back to his laptop. “Or two…”

“How dramatic of him.” Jonathan scoffed. “When doesn’t ‘e have a bone ta pick with me? I offend him by existing.”

Edward hummed.

Jonathan and Harvey had hated each other virtually the moment they had met. Unlike his gripes with the likes of the Joker or Calendar Man, Jonathan didn’t hate Harvey due to any past incidents or iron-strong grudges (though there had been that incident involving Scarecrow and the Iceberg Lounge that neither looked back upon happily, and still blamed the other for, but their dislike for each other had preceded that by years). They simply did not get along.

Jonathan hated Harvey and Harv, Harvey and Harv hated Jonathan. Scarecrow hated Harvey and Harv, Harvey and Harv hated Scarecrow. There was no combination between the four personalities that came up rainbows and roses.

Edward had been the very same with Jonathan once; now, he only hated Scarecrow. The feeling was mutual.

“Yes, well,” Edward said, “Oswald would like me to repeat that information for him. Selina would also like me to tell you she wants to murder you, and Harley wants me to tell you she currently wants to - and I’ll paraphrase this - ‘mash yer stupid head like you made her do to her jack-o-lantern’.”

He pursed his lips and looked to Jonathan out of the corner of his eye.

At Oswald and Selina’s threats, Jonathan had given disinterested grunts, but at Harley’s, he raised an offended eyebrow.

Not surprising; Harley adored Jonathan, for reasons nobody quite knew, and as such she was often one of the most loyal Rogues when it came to Jonathan’s rules about Halloween. Should she catch anybody talking about their Autumn schemes, she would tell them to reconsider since “Ya know how Doctah Crane gets about his Halloween!” and she would do her best to ward her partner - either the Joker or Pamela, depending - off of any plans for Halloween.

Evidently, she just liked to see Jonathan happy.

Jonathan thought nothing much about Harley’s clingy attitude toward him, though he humoured her by accepting her gifts and allowing her to hang off of his arm whenever they sat together. He didn’t exactly allow her to kiss his face or hug him until his ribs cracked, but she tended to do so anyway.

Harley, of all people, should’ve known to take up protection from Jonathan’s toxin. She clearly hadn’t been housed with Pamela at the time, as she would’ve taken her protective medication against poisons and toxins (as was the case when living in Pamela’s home), but she still should’ve invested in a gas mask - or at least stayed away from the window.

Jonathan couldn’t be held responsible for Harley’s actions. How could she want to bash his face in? That was so rude.

She should’ve been happy, anyway, that his plans had worked. They’d worked perfectly. Jonathan had gotten to see what he’d wanted to see, what the other Rogues completely missed out on with their own lines of work. He almost wished Edward had been with him to see it too, but no.

It had been his little treasure, and his alone to marvel at in his memories.

…

Jonathan stood over his prize, almost unbelieving that he’d manage to capture this moment. Not even the throbbing pain in his cheek could ruin it. His gaze was soft, his lips a gentle ‘o’ shape, fear toxin rain dripping from his hair as Batman tried to tell himself none of this was real.

A gas mask laid nearby, the strap cut, dubbing the mask’s ability to holding onto someone’s head nonexistent. Jonathan couldn’t believe it’d been so easy; one moment, Batman had been holding him by the front of his shirt, scowling in his face, the next…

“No…No! The city…The city…!”

Batman had had no protection from the rain after Jonathan had cut his mask off; it was soaking into the skin around his mouth, the only part of him not covered by his costume.

Jonathan wanted to stroke that soaked skin to try and get Batman to share the fear with him, but he’d stopped feeling fear two years ago. So instead, he just watched Batman, on his hands and knees before Jonathan, head bowed and shaking back and forth.

In Batman’s mind’s eye, the city was crumbling around him, pieces falling from the buildings in large chunks, the ground giving way down below, disappearing into a swirling, rust-coloured vortex of nothingness. The ground shook hard and his fingers curled into fists against the gravel of the rooftop he and Jonathan were on before he ultimately fell to his elbows, trying to find balance again.

“Do you like it?” Jonathan asked quietly. “I thought you would. It’s new. I was hopin’ to see you like this. I never get to, usually. Is that why you sought me out? Not to arrest me, but to treat me? How very clumsy of you. You could have collected the formula already, made an antidote - it’s falling all around you! But you found me first.” He bared his teeth. “Why? Did ya happen ta see me an’ thought you’d try yer luck?! Did you ignore the cries of yer people to find the man you knew wouldn’t assist you?! Why did you do that?! Tell me!”

Batman didn’t reply; he was too busy pathetically trying to crawl to the building’s edge, reaching out for the one opposite as it broke down before his eyes, another piece of Gotham he couldn’t save.

Jonathan’s scowl dropped. He looked at the building Batman was reaching for, then looked back at the Bat himself.

He turned his head to give Batman an observing side-eye. “…What a mind you have. I still ache ta open it one day.”

Batman put a hand over the symbol on his chest, fingers curling over his heart.

Jonathan watched him, then slowly walked toward him. “…You’ll feel like yer dyin’, but I assure you, yer not. I don’t wanna kill you, Batman. I wanna expose you to the world, break down the legend of the Dark Knight…then lock you up in my basement and hold you there forever. I wanna pump you full of toxin over and over again, and watch your fear everyday fer the rest of my life. What a treat that would be.”

He crouched down beside Batman. “Yer like my Edward, yer fear is…so beautiful.”

He ripped off a glove, ran a finger over Batman’s bottom lip, then brought that finger to his mouth and licked it.

“I don’t blame you fer falling victim ta this. Fear is so…addictive, isn’t it? I wish I could join you all.”

Jonathan sighed through his nose and stood up to leave, pulling on his glove as he did so, only for Batman to grab his leg in one hand.

He stopped immediately, looking down at him; where he expected Batman to pull him off his feet and knock him unconscious, the Dark Knight only dragged himself closer to Jonathan and grabbed at him with his other hand, pressing his forehead against Jonathan’s knee.

“Stop,” Batman said. “Wait…”

Jonathan waited for him to do something more, then he scoffed. “That it? That’s yer attempt? Not gonna hit me again or anythin’?”

Batman tightened his hold, then gasped out, “You have to get out. You have to get to safety.”

Jonathan frowned confusedly. “What?”

“You have to get out, I…they’re dead. They’re both dead. They’re all - dead, but…” Batman looked up at him.

He still had those white films over his eyes to hide them away, but Jonathan could see just from the shape of his cowl’s brow, from the crease his mouth had become, how panicked he was under the toxin’s effects.

Jonathan had seen Batman’s eyes only once; they were blue, and so Jonathan filled in the blanks in his mind. He made him look extra devastated.

“I can still save someone.”

Batman stared up at him and did not see Jonathan Crane as the Scarecrow, but saw him as he should have been: of a better weight, in his tweed blazer and bow tie, with his hair cropped short and his half moon glasses, just as he had been when Batman and Jonathan Crane had first met.

Not that Jonathan would know that; he only looked more confused. “D’you know who I am?”

“Yes,” Batman replied through a gasp.

Batman used Jonathan’s clothing to pull himself up, making Jonathan stagger slightly, then Batman was standing before him and gripping his biceps hard.

For a moment, Jonathan thought he would headbutt him, but Batman only pulled him against himself and held him tightly.

“What?!” Jonathan snapped, confused. “The hell’re you doin’, boy?!”

“Saving you,” Batman replied, holding Jonathan tightly with his left arm while his right hand ventured down to his belt, shaking and unstable as he grabbed for his grappling gun.

His hand was still shaking as he pointed it to a nearby rooftop and shot it, the hook finding purchase on a gutter, and Batman pushed the button to pull he and Jonathan off of their feet, just as the rooftop they’d been standing on gave way and fell into brick and dust.

The wind rushed through Jonathan’s wet hair and chilled his skin as it clung to his soaked costume. He watched the streets below as he and Batman rushed through the air, only for the trip to be cut short when the gutter Batman had attached them to gave way under their weight and the force of the grapple’s pull.

Batman made a small, defeated noise in his throat as the two of them fell through the air. As quickly as he could, he curled around Jonathan and wrapped his cape around him, then buried his face in Jonathan’s hair to protect him.

With no fear, Jonathan felt only annoyance that this was happening at all, smothered in the Batman’s chest like that, falling to what could possibly be their deaths - he couldn’t die on Halloween night, for God’s sake! It was unacceptable!

Luckily for him, they didn’t hit the street below, but rather the rooftop living in the shadow of the building Batman had tried to get to.

There was a crash as Batman’s armour hit the gravel; they rolled three times, Batman tightening his hold on Jonathan, then they stopped and Jonathan wrestled out of his grasp, scrambling away from him.

“The hell’s wrong with you, boy?!” Jonathan shouted as he got to his feet. He waved an arm at him. “Tryin’ ta fly around in yer condition?! Who d’you think ya are, King of the Jungle?!”

“Professor Crane…”

Jonathan scoffed with disgust. “We’ve had this conversation: ya can’t help me, son. No one can.”

Batman rolled over onto his hands and knees, then looked up at him. “Professor Crane.”

Jonathan faltered.

Batman’s eyes narrowed, and his voice came out angry. “Professor Crane.”

Jonathan stepped back before Batman could punch him again.

His mind clearing a bit, Batman pushed himself to his feet, took two steps toward Jonathan, then stumbled and dropped to one knee. He punched the ground in frustration, trying to fight against the toxin again, then raised his head, only to pause.

Behind Jonathan came a tall, shadowy figure with foggy lenses for eyes and claws at the tips of its fingers, with two cylinder-like structures protruding from its fanged mouth. It rose up over Jonathan, double his height, and crept up until it stood behind him.

It eyed Batman, then dug its claws into Jonathan’s shoulders.

“No,” Batman’s eyes widened, “stop!”

Batman clutched at his head, trying to will the hallucinations to stop, and looked up just in time to see the thing grab Jonathan’s head in one hand, yank it to the side to expose his throat, and use the claw on its other index finger to slit Jonathan’s neck open.

“NO!”

Jonathan looked behind him confusedly; in Batman’s fantasy, he was laying dead on the ground, blood pooling under his cut throat.

“Stop…!” Batman hissed, bowing his head again. He punched the ground again, inhaling through gritted teeth and squeezing his eyes shut as he tried to break out of the drug’s control.

Jonathan stepped back, away from him, and frowned bitterly. “…Why have you snatched my fun from me, Batman?…No. No, I can still have it. Without you.”

Jonathan snatched his mask from where he’d tucked it into the rope tied around his torso and pulled it down over his head, glaring at Batman through the lenses and frowning still behind the protruding filters of the gas mask built into the burlap sack, then he tugged his hood up and ran.

“Stop!” Batman shouted. “Dr. Crane!”

When he looked up to watch Jonathan go, hand held out to try and stop him, he saw Jonathan Crane with his eyes torn out, his throat still bleeding, lips sewn back to force them into an open smile, his tongue lulling out and blood seeping down his chin from his missing teeth. He was dangled over the rooftop’s surface, sickles stabbed through his bleeding wrists, strings tied around the sickles’ handles to hang him like a puppet.

The thing was holding onto the strings, high above them in the sky.

“No chance, son,” Jonathan called over his shoulder, then leapt from the roof, using pipes and windowsills to safely get to the ground.

He kept an eye on that roof; it took only a minute for Batman to regain himself and stand again.

When he did, Jonathan ran away.

…

Before he got too caught up in last night’s success, Jonathan shook his head softly and grunted again, a bit miffed, but nonetheless shrugged a shoulder and used a thumb to stroke down Bernie’s back.

“I’ll deal with all o’ them later, I got more important business ta deal with first.”

Edward hummed in disinterest, tapping away at his keyboard. Of course, he knew Jonathan coming home and getting his rest didn’t mean the end of all the Halloween business; Jonathan still had to take notes from the evening, which meant more disappearing into his basement and hunching over his notebooks.

Which meant even more time spent away from Edward, and even more time that Edward had to spend tending to his own needs for company. He could feel an ache in his gut already, and mentally checked if he’d acquired those double-A batteries he’d needed.

Edward pulled his attention back to his laptop, punching in the vital information for the gadget that would detect fear toxin in the air. As much as he wanted to just throw his laptop aside and attach himself to Jonathan’s side, he refused to give in; his bitterness over Jonathan’s lack of acknowledgement beat his need for physical contact with his lover.

They sat in silence for a good twenty minutes, the tension being punctuated only by Jonathan’s soft coos to Bernie, her occasional squeak, and Edward’s typing, which got quicker the more Jonathan cooed at Bernie. He hit the spacebar a bit harder than he’d meant again, and Jonathan glanced at him out of the corner of his eye.

Jonathan stared for a moment, then he cleared his throat. “So. Edward.”

Edward showed he was listening only by raising an eyebrow. He didn’t care if Jonathan saw it or not.

“It hasn’t escaped my notice that yer givin’ me the silent treatment. Fer some reason.”

Edward’s lips pursed. ‘For some reason’, indeed.

Jonathan idly pet Bernie’s head, being very gentle as he touched the little nick in her right ear. “You were chattin’ ta me last night, I remember that, an’ you were talkin’ ta me earlier when I got woken up, and ya greeted me when I came downstairs, so evidently it’s somethin’ I’ve done since makin’ my coffee.”

There was a pause.

“Did you want some coffee?”

Edward’s expression creased up in a scowl.

“I didn’t drink it all, if you want some. Jus’ go get it,” Jonathan replied casually as he pushed Bernie with his thumb while she had her tiny paws on the pad, pushing back against him. He smiled down at her and let her win.

Edward’s fingers curled into fists on his keyboard; the joints of his thumbs were pressing on some buttons, and there was now a trail of Ds and Js in his document.

He would’ve been much more loving to Jonathan this afternoon if Jonathan had bothered to greet him after these long months apart. Between ignoring Edward’s efforts to care for Bernie and putting all of his attention on her instead, Edward was just annoyed with him, which was the last thing he’d wanted upon Jonathan’s awakening.

Jonathan sighed exasperatedly, and that only made Edward want to bludgeon him with his laptop.

Jonathan had a problem with his behaviour? Jonathan was the one who wasn’t bothering to show his gratitude! Jonathan was the one being irritating! Jonathan was the one who obsessed over Halloween so much, he abandoned Edward for two months, leaving nothing but his fucking mouse behind! Edward was just the one who had to put up with this crap!

Fuck him. The next time Jonathan asked Edward to care for Bernie, no matter how fond of her Edward had grown, he would tell Jonathan to go fuck himself.

Edward’s fingers squeezed around his laptop, but he forced himself not to use it as a weapon, if only because he’d made it himself.

“Not the coffee, then. Right.” Jonathan sighed again. “Is it cause I ain’t wearin’ pants? Did you not see that when I came down? These ain’t that dirty.”

Edward glared at him out of the corner of his eye.

The lack of verbal response made Jonathan look at him, then he sighed again.

“I think Mr. Nygma’s jealous of you, Bernie,” he said to the mouse in his lap, “he only acts this annoyin’ when he’s not getting enough of my attention.”

Just one more word from Jonathan was all Edward needed to be convinced to slam his laptop over Jonathan’s head. Perhaps he should have allowed Harvey and Oswald to shoot him earlier; Edward could have joined them.

Jonathan sighed for a fourth time, then rolled his eyes and looked to Edward. “Alright, fine. I give. Lemme know what I’ve done, then, go on. Rant ta me, I’m all ears.” When Edward didn’t immediately reply, Jonathan poked his arm. “Answer me this riddle, Mr. Expert.”

Edward continued to glare, but at least he began to speak again. “Oh? Want me to speak to you, do you?”

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far, but you know what they say: silence is deafening.”

“Well, I tend to think of it as golden.” Edward went back to his laptop.

Jonathan huffed. He stood up from his seat and leaned over to Bernie‘s cage, cooing to her softly as he gently lowered her back into the safety of her habitat. He curled and uncurled a finger at her, then closed her cage.

Doing so showed Edward he had Jonathan‘s attention, and Jonathan looked at him expectantly as he sat down beside him again. “Happy now?”

Edward glanced at him, then turned his head away and shut his eyes, nose pointed at the air.

Jonathan threw his head back. “Edward…”

Edward glanced at him.

“Jus’ tell me, would you? The suspense is killin’ me,” Jonathan said dryly, rolling his eyes, making Edward bare his teeth.

“If only,” Edward snapped back, then huffed. “Fine. If your inferior, primitive mind can’t possibly figure out why I might be upset with you - beyond thinking I could actually be craving your attention, which,” he paused to laugh cruelly, “is ludicrous - then I will tell you, generous genius as I am.”

Jonathan rolled his eyes again, but nevertheless stared down at him, waiting.

Edward’s frown pinched. “I didn’t have to take care of Bernie for you. I could have passed her off onto my employees, the ones who care for her when we’re in Arkham. I could have told you to take her with you again. I could have left her to her own devices during your time away. But I didn’t. Why? I don’t know. Is it because I love you? Is it because she’s actually not as bad as I first thought? No offence, Bernie, dear,” he added, raising a hand and looking to her.

Bernie twitched her nose at him, then turned around and hopped onto her wheel to do another few laps, making the plastic rattle.

Edward twitched, then sighed. “I see I’ve offended you…But I digress,” he turned back to Jonathan, still gesturing to Bernie, “she’s in perfect health. Hasn’t seen a bad mood throughout our time together, minus when she was getting used to seeing me instead of you. We’ve grown quite fond of each other. And what do I receive upon you finally getting home? No acknowledgement. No pat on the back. Nothing. Even back when we had an actual conversation, that time you came to collect your equipment, you merely hummed after rudely scolding me for picking her up - which, might I remind you, she likes now. Because I did such a good job.”

Jonathan continued to stare at him, no sign of remorse for his behaviour. Typical.

“So,” he turned back to his laptop, “if you want this,” he gestured to himself with a circular motion of his right hand, “then I’d better hear this.” He used his left hand to mimic a mouth opening and closing, then went back to typing.

He didn’t see Jonathan’s reaction to his asserting himself, but Bernie had stopped running on her wheel, so someone was paying attention.

Edward didn’t give Jonathan the satisfaction of checking if he was going to say anything. If Jonathan remained quiet, then it was his loss. He would be receiving nothing from Edward until he heard that ‘thank you’, so if Jonathan was going to be stubborn about it, then he would have to get used to the lonesome.

(See how he liked it.)

Beside him, he felt Jonathan lean away from him, sensed him pause to think about it, then felt him lean to retrieve his mug of coffee from the table. He focused on his document, but couldn’t help but pick up the sound of gulping in the background and, as Jonathan placed his mug back down, he realised Jonathan had just downed his coffee.

Jonathan huffed, then there was a hand on the right side of his head, an arm behind his neck, and Jonathan was pulling him to himself to whisper in his ear, “Thank you. Fer takin’ care of Bernie…Ya did real good.”

Edward’s typing came to a stop.

Jonathan watched him, head still leant close to his. His breath tickled Edward’s ear.

Edward shut his eyes and tipped his head back, inhaled deeply and exhaled deeper, then opened his eyes and turned his head to look at Jonathan.

The two men locked their stern gazes, then Edward planted a quick, soft kiss on Jonathan’s lips. “You’re welcome. She was a darling.”

One side of Jonathan’s lips turned upwards in a half smile and he released Edward’s head and leaned back as Edward shut his laptop.

Edward held up a finger and used the other hand to reach for the bottle of Purell on the coffee table. He thrust it toward Jonathan, who clicked his tongue and rolled his eyes again as he took it.

“She roams around in her own urine, Jon,” Edward said sternly as Jonathan squirted some hand wash onto his palm. “Just because I like her now doesn’t mean I’ve become oblivious to her bathroom habits.”

Jonathan chuckled as he rubbed the gel into his skin. “Y’know, some people actually like that smell. Say it smells like popcorn.”

“Well, those people are mentally ill and need to be put down.”

Jonathan barked out a laugh.

Edward waited until he was done cleaning his hands, then he sighed in fake tiredness and shut his eyes, patting Jonathan’s arm with the back of his hand as he used the other to pick his laptop off of himself and onto the seat beside him.

“Now, make yourself useful,” Edward said, then began twisting on his seat to show his back to Jonathan. “Hold me now, would you?”

Jonathan considered it, then hummed and adjusted his position until he was laying with his head against the couch’s arm, legs open so Edward could sit between them, and he held out his arm in offering so Edward could lean right back and onto his chest, which Edward did so quite happily.

As Jonathan’s right arm rested over Edward’s chest, Edward lifted his left hand and Jonathan intertwined their fingers, lifting Edward’s knuckles to his mouth but not kissing them.

“You hear the screaming last night?” Jonathan asked, grinning against Edward’s hand.

Edward smiled and craned his neck to look up at Jonathan over his shoulder. “I did, when I went to the roof. Had to soundproof our room so we could sleep last night.”

“Weren’t it the most beautiful sound ya’ve ever heard?”

“Something like that.” His smile fell. “Did you want ice for your cheek?”

“No, it’s fine, don’t worry ‘bout it,” Jonathan said, still grinning. He stared into space as he remembered what he caused last night.

Edward could see him getting distracted and that didn’t sit well with him at all, so he wrenched his hand from Jonathan’s despite how much he was enjoying holding it and turned over, coming chest to tummy with Jonathan.

He put a finger to Jonathan’s chin like it was the on switch for Jonathan’s attention, and Jonathan looked at him.

“Did you steal from Fries to get that snow effect for your toxin?” He asked.

Jonathan’s eyes lit up, and he shrugged a shoulder as his grin became a thin smile. “Nothin’ he’d particularly miss, nothin’ that would compromise Nora’s condition. Just a little somethin’ ta help solidify the toxin to a point that it ain’t like bullets, s’all. Who best ta make snow with than Fries, right?” He hummed, looked away, then raised his eyebrows as he looked to Edward again. “I stole from Garfield too.”

Edward faked a gasp, then poked Jonathan’s chin again. “Naughty.”

“Eh, I was outta gunpowder, is all.”

Edward chuckled, then raised an eyebrow in wicked amusement. “And hijacking an airship. Very naughty.”

Jonathan laughed. “Ya can get anywhere with a lab coat, clipboard and a face that says ya know what yer doin’. Li’l makeup ta cover yer scars, o’ course. That, an’ Stagg’s a goddamn fool.”

Edward barked out a cackle, then lowered his head to rest it against Jonathan’s chest. “Tell me more, dear. Everything you did to succeed last night.”

He heard Jonathan suck in an excited breath through his teeth, meaning he was grinning again, and he started on his explanation of everything.

Edward happily let him; a man as stoic and as unapproachable as Jonathan didn’t get much of a chance to ramble about his interests and his work, either because he didn’t want to reveal secrets or because nobody asked. He had no problem hiding things from Edward before Halloween, but now that Edward had seen everything, he’d been bursting at the seams at the prospect of talking about it.

Edward - despite how much he loved his own voice - adored hearing Jonathan sound so excited. He was adorable when he was excited.

Despite himself, he smiled sweetly and took in the sound of Jonathan’s heartbeat. It’d been ages since Jonathan had held him - at least, it certainly felt that way, since Edward was so used to cuddling near-every night. There’d definitely been something missing about his bedtime routine, and he was sure he’d just found it.

He wouldn’t, of course, be telling Jonathan about this because they weren’t the sentimental type. Obviously.

Edward felt Jonathan’s fingers in his hair, idly petting and stroking through his brown locks as he talked, and he smiled and opened one eye to look in Jonathan’s direction fondly before he shut it again to relax as he listened to Jonathan tell him about Batman’s reaction to his new fear toxin.

Jonathan was his until next Halloween - unless the Bat found him first.

Edward’s eyes opened instantly.

That was right: Jonathan was a wanted man now. November was his hibernation period - when he would refuel his energy levels, remake batches of toxin, in general rest from the onslaught he’d brought upon Gotham - and so Jonathan would do his best to hide, but getting poisoned by toxin would only make Batman more determined to get to him.

Edward chewed his lip.

Last year, he’d just tried to make sure Jonathan didn’t leave the house for any reason whatsoever, but that had barely worked since Jonathan kept going out to his labs to acquire notes for his toxin, so he could update his journals on how his research was going. He’d been careful, but Edward would have preferred for him to stay inside.

Inside, he got: Batman had caught him two days into his hibernation.

Edward had busted him out of Arkham five days after his incarceration - with a lawyer, no less.

He pondered it, then a light bulb lit up in his brain and he raised his head suddenly.

“Jon.”

Jonathan halted his explanation of his theories on Batman’s fear, frowning at being interrupted.

“We need to get out.”

Jonathan blinked at Edward’s wide-eyed look. “…Of the house?”

“Of Gotham.” Edward leaned up on his elbows, making Jonathan wince. “You’re going to be a wanted man now, and Batman knows of our partnership - as do Gordon and Bullock - so they’ll be looking for me too, won’t they? So let’s not hide and wait around this year, let’s just…leave.”

Jonathan stared at him in silence, still slightly put-off by Edward’s interruption, but he listened anyway.

Tradition was that he simply hid in his home until December, when everything died down, and here Edward was, trying to change this one too.

Tradition be damned, indeed.

“…And where would we go, exactly? Can’t go ta Metropolis or Star City, the Bat’s li’l friends will be lookin’ out for me.”

“I’m not suggesting there. I have somewhere better.” He smiled widely and raised his eyebrows. “My cabin.”

Jonathan stared at him in silence, then raised his own eyebrows in surprise. “Yer what?”

“My cabin!” Edward poked him in the chin again. “You’re not the only one with secrets, my Southern sweet. I own a cabin in the woods; I rent it out sometimes, for extra money.”

Jonathan’s brow furrowed. “…This sounds like a gag.”

“It’s not! I rent out a cabin to holiday-goers for extra money. They have no way of knowing it’s really me, don’t worry; nobody knows I own it. Well, except you, now.” He prodded his chin again. “I used to use it as a hideout-slash-private place to think, just somewhere to escape to when I needed to think my deepest thoughts. A ‘man cave’, if you will. Eventually, I found less of a use for it, and so I started renting it out. I’ve had families stay there, men having midlife crises, people with their lovers - all sorts. Nothing of my criminal identity is there, it’s just a lovely little cabin - and we could go there! You and I, together.”

He smiled excitedly and ducked his head down, staring at Jonathan with his big, green eyes, just waiting for him to tell Edward what a brilliant idea that was.

Jonathan stared at him in silence, then he squinted at him. “This still sounds like a joke.”

Edward groaned irritably. “It’s not a joke! I own other property, Jonathan, it’s not weird! I also own a lighthouse in Iceland, but I’ve never mentioned that either.”

“…Lighthouse.”

Edward faltered, then looked away with an embarrassed pout. “…It was a drunken purchase.”

“Ah.”

Edward shook his head, spluttering nonsense as he caught himself before he told anymore tales of he, Query and Echo’s celebrations after successful heists. “The cabin exists, Jon! I can show you the papers!”

“Alright. An’ where is this magical cabin?”

“It’s not magical, it’s logical. And it’s in Michigan.”

“Michigan?” Jonathan repeated, staring at Edward like he was crazy (which he, of course, was certainly not).

Edward nodded. “It’s near Grayling, in the woods.”

“The woods.” Looking at the ceiling, Jonathan bobbed his head as he pressed his lips together, thinking on it. He looked to Edward. “Ya know there’s dirt there, right?”

Edward pursed his lips, displeased. Now was no time for Jonathan to joke about this OCD he claimed Edward had. This was serious.

Besides, there was nothing wrong with wanting to keep tidy.

“Yes, I’m aware there’s dirt in the woods, Jonathan. Thank you.” He softened his expression. “It’s right next to a lake, too, where you could fish for our dinner. I could travel into Grayling whenever we need groceries or anything; other than that, it would be just the two of us, together.” He smiled sweetly. “Doesn’t that sound nice? The role of fugitives aside, it would be like we were on vacation. We’ve never been on vacation together before -”

“I’ve never been on vacation,” Jonathan said casually.

Edward frowned, either at the interruption or the obviousness of the statement. “Somehow, that doesn’t shock me. But, no - we’d be safe there, and it would be a great chance for you to relax and recharge your batteries. What do you say?”

Jonathan stared at him, then tipped his head back to squint at the ceiling.

Edward so hoped he would go along with it; what could be more perfect than a cabin in the woods, far from Gotham and the Batman, just the two of them? Edward could already picture himself sitting outside by a fire while Jonathan sat on the tiny pier that punctured the lake’s edge and worked on catching fish for their dinner, then retiring to bed together in their safe, secluded home away from home.

Not to mention, it would give them all the time in the world to spend time together. Jonathan was far from a clingy boyfriend, so Edward had no doubt he’d be shrugging off a few hugs or intimate touches, but it would be a far sight better than having Jonathan sneak off to his labs for his notes and not knowing if he was going to come home or not.

Just the two of them, on vacation. They would make the most of it; wouldn’t treat it as hiding from the law, but hiding from everybody, a getaway for some relaxation.

“…A lake,” Jonathan said slowly. “Are you suggestin’ I do the fishin’ cause I’ll feel at home on the water?”

Edward raised an eyebrow. “What?”

“Y’know. Like that lake in Georgia I supposedly arose from?”

Edward snorted and slapped a hand over his nose and mouth, blushing in embarrassment at the noise but too busy giggling to truly care.

“Yeah, that’s right. I was listenin’ last night. And quite frankly, Edward, I’m greatly offended.”

Edward stopped giggling.

“Everybody knows I dragged myself out of a well, not a lake.”

Edward had to hold both hands over his nose and mouth this time, but they did nothing; Jonathan had said it so bluntly and so seriously, Edward couldn’t stop the laughter from bubbling up from his throat, thrown into the air before he collapsed on Jonathan’s chest to cackle into his shirt.

When he was finished, he raised his head to smile widely at Jonathan, still vibrating with chuckles as he leaned an elbow on Jonathan’s chest, head perched in his hand, and he poked Jonathan’s nose.

If Jonathan had changed his expression during Edward’s laughing fit, he’d quickly changed it back when Edward raised his head.

“A well, then. My mistake.”

“Hm. It is yours.” Jonathan nodded, then looked away to ponder Edward’s actual question. “…I’d hafta bring my research with me.”

“You can. We’ll pack whatever notebooks you need, granted they don’t weigh us down. I will, however, put my foot down at bringing any toxin along. We won’t need it, and I refuse to wear that gas mask for another night.”

Jonathan pursed his lips.

Edward sensed his displeasure, but he didn’t care. Fear toxin had reigned their lives lately; it was time for a break from the stuff.

“…Bernie can come too.” Jonathan looked at her cage; Bernie was inside her tube, licking her paws again. Jonathan briefly became dewy-eyed looking at her.

It wasn’t phrased as a question, and Edward almost rolled his eyes at the fact Jonathan felt the need to insist upon this.

“Yes, obviously, Bernie will be coming along too. I’m not going to ask you to spend another month away from her.”

“Good.” Jonathan looked away, toward the stairs. He squinted. “…Michigan.”

“What’s wrong with Michigan?”

“Gonna get cold.”

“So will Gotham, if we stay. It’s November, I’m not expecting us to be in board shorts and sun hats.” (That would be quite a sight.) “But we’ll be fine, there’re two fireplaces in the property, not to mention a fire pit outside.”

Edward rested his chin on him again. “We can drive down there, it’ll take about twelve hours or so, if traffic’s good. Not too long, not too short - we could make it a good time. Take shifts driving, stop for food, that whole thing.”

Jonathan cocked his head; Edward hoped this meant he was closer to saying yes. “…Gonna be tough gettin’ outta the city. They’re lookin’ fer me. Can’t get to Miagani Island, either, so we can’t leave anyways.”

“Well, no, not if we take the road.” He smirked. “We have the option of water or air. White owes me a favour after I supplied him with the security codes to one of Two-Face’s hideouts. They were having one of their little tiffs at the time,” he added when Jonathan looked confused, waving a hand casually as he rolled his eyes. “I think he can get me a helicopter, he’s done so before. Though - Mm. He might blab to you-know-who. Darn.”

Jonathan considered this. “…Waylon owes me a favour too.”

“Ah - there you go! Our water option.” He ducked his head down and smiled hopefully. “Come on, Jon, what do you say?”

Jonathan stayed quiet, looking anywhere but Edward while he pondered it.

Edward felt his heartbeat quicken as he waited for the verdict, hoping to whoever would listen that Jonathan would say yes. He was already having fantasies about this trip, Jonathan couldn’t take it away. If he said no, Edward was tempted to knock him out and kidnap him.

“…Maybe,” Jonathan said with a sniff.

Edward deflated, which helped Jonathan to slide out from beneath him, sitting up and gently pushing Edward away.

He stood up from the sofa, stretching his arms over his head, popping his spine and groaning lightly at the ease of tension, then he shook his shoulders and cracked his neck.

“I got business to attend to first. Gotta get my stuff in order, an’ all that.”

Jonathan walked away from the couch, heading toward his basement study’s door, and Edward watched him as he passed him, then he hung his head and pouted at the carpet.

He didn’t want to go through with the kidnapping, considering what a pain it’d be, but if he had to…

“Oh, and, uh.”

Edward looked over his shoulder.

Jonathan leaned against his basement’s doorway with his right hand, tapping the other side with his left index finger, then he looked over his shoulder at Edward and pointed at him.

“Get on that cabin in the woods idea, actually. Ya might have somethin’ there.”

Edward’s lips formed an ‘o’ shape as Jonathan then disappeared into the darkness of his study, shutting the door behind him.

Edward turned away as he considered all of this, then he grinned widely and had to stop himself from squealing, holding his fists under his chin as he shut his eyes and wiggled in place, shaking his shoulders back and forth. The rather high-pitched squeal was muffled by his lips, in the end.

Squeaking reached his ears and he opened his eyes to look as Bernie approached the bars of her cage, raising herself to her hind legs to sniff in his direction.

Edward found it sweet that she cared, and he grinned at her as he leaned toward her to speak, “You see that, Bernie? Mr. Nygma always gets what he wants.”

He smirked smugly and sat back in his seat, resting his left arm on the back of the couch as he crossed his left leg over his right.

“Always.”

#My writing #Scriddler #Batman #Jonathan Crane #Edward Nygma #Scarecrow #The Riddler #WanderVerse

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suckitsurveys · 4 years

Text

been a minute.

Have you ever read the Hunger Games series? Nope. When was the last time you ran into something? Yesterday, my cat tripped me up and I hit the wall. Do you enjoy dressing up? Yes, it’s fun sometimes. Do you live in the city or a rural area? I live in the city, but in a quiet-ish neighborhood.

Would you say you have a sense of style? Nope.

What’s your biggest fear? Having my fears used against me. For example, I was in an elevator once with some friends and these guys they knew and I mentioned how much I disliked being in an elevator, and they proceeded to jump up and down making it shake and freaking me the fuck out. So I don’t like to tell people my fears. Have you ever been bitten by a wild animal? Nope. Are you close to any of your cousins? Eh, yes and no. Have you ever been lost in the woods? No, thankfully. Where did you last travel? Wisconsin earlier this year. Ahh, remember traveling and fun? Do you enjoy driving? I do. What song did you last listen to? The theme song to this podcast I started listening to. If you have a job, how often do you work? M-F, 7am - 3:30pm. What time do you normally go to sleep at night? Like midnight these days. Do you watch a lot of movies? Nah, I’m more into TV shows. Do you like Tom Petty? I do. Would you rather have snow or rain? RAIN ALL DAY EVERY DAY. Do you own a lot of sweaters? I own a lot of sweatshirts. Have you ever tried rock-climbing? Climbing walls, sure. Ever ridden in a police car? Yup. Favorite decade of music? I don’t have one. I typically don’t classify music by decade. Have any of your best friends been your best friend longer than a year? All of them. Ever witnessed a murder? No. Does your room have a ceiling fan? No. Have you ever tried blogging? Not legit. I had a Xanga but I didn’t update it like a blog. And then, this shit. Favorite television channel? I don’t have regular TV anymore, just streaming stuff. Have you ever lied under oath? Nope. What are your religious views? I don’t have any. When did you last change your bed sheets? We’re about to today or tomorrow whenever our new sheets come. Would you consider yourself a flirt? No. At what age do you plan to be married? I’m already married. Do you eat a lot of junk food? Lol. When did you last go on vacation? Earlier this year. Are you resilient? Eh. Have you ever failed a subject before? Yeah. If so, what was the class? Some shit in college. Do you wear more bright or dull colors? What would you consider blue? Do you know anyone who has attempted suicide? Yes. What’s your favorite quote? "Love Her, But Leave Her Wild.” How many clocks are in your house? Like 10 if you count all the electronics that tell time. Do you play any sports? Nope. What is your biggest life regret? I don’t have any. Have you ever been injured in a car accident? Not injured, no. If you could be anywhere in the world right now, where would you be? SWIMMING. Or to see my family. Or out to eat sushi. Or to a bar. Or to a giant crowd of people. Have you ever had highlights in your hair? Eh. Favorite fast food restaurant? Popeyes. In what country were you born? US of A. Are your eyes more than one color? They are a few shades of green. Have you ever caught something on fire? Yes. What would you consider your biggest flaw? I’m too passionate sometimes and it can come off as annoying. What do you think your best quality is? I’m creative and kind. Do you enjoy listening to others’ problems? Sure.

Do you keep any plants in your house? I have a couple air plants. What is your mother’s occupation? She was a SAHM my whole life. Do any of your friends like your musical style? Sure. What are you most looking forward to? Thus fucking shit to be over so I can hold my fucking nieces. What was your favorite television show as a child? Tiny Toons, Garfield and Friends, Pokemon, Angela Anaconda, basically everything on Nickelodeon. Are you afraid of insects? Not afraid, no. I dislike earwigs and centepieds though. Are you cold-natured? I don’t like being too cold and i don’t like being too hot so do what you want with that info. How old were you when you got your first pet? I was 7 when my 2nd grade teacher asked if we would take our class pet parakeets home for the summer and then never asked for them back lol. Did you / do you enjoy high school? I liked parts of it. What would you say was your favorite age? Eh. What annoys you most about social networking? The people.

Are you the center of attention most of the time? Nope. What are you currently reading? I’m still working on RBW’s book. When did you last go to the library? Jesus it’s been a while. Are you ill at the moment? No. Do people tease you about anything? Sure. How late did you stay up last night and why? Midnightish. I was browsing stuff. Have you ever written poetry? When we had to for English classes. Curtains or shades? Curtains. How many people have you spoken to in the last hour? My coworkers over the phone, someone else from work, and Mark. Do you tend to text a lot? Sure. Ever lost a great best friend? Wasn’t that great if I lost her. What is your favorite kind of flower? Gardenias. Do you own any guns? Mark has a bb gun. What would you say is your favorite book of all-time? To Kill a Mockingbird. What’s your least favorite part of the day? Late afternoon.

Have you ever won an award for a speech? No. Do you tend to curse a lot? Yes. Have you ever played on the Ouija board? Yes. Do you sleepwalk? Nope. Have you ever slept on the floor before? Yeah. Are you a fan of public displays of affection? Eh. When did you last attend a yard sale? It’s been a couple years. What goals do you wish to accomplish tomorrow? Tomorrow I have a Zoom meeting so I need to be dressed for that :P. When is your birthday? Sept 2nd. What was the best part of today? I made guac. Do you attempt to stay away from drama? Involving me, yes. What liquid did you last drink? Iced tea. Do you ever prefer to be alone? Sure. Have you ever had a deadly animal as a pet? Our cat Saké is pretty deadly, lol. Favorite Disney movie? The Toy Story series, Emperor’s New Groove, Alice in Wonderland, and Moana. Have you ever been to the beach? SO many times. I love the beach. If you have, how many times have you been? ^^^^ I WANNA GO RIGHT NOW. What was your dream occupation at age ten? A vet I think. Are you terrified at the idea of weight-gain? What a stupid thing to be afraid of. Do you drink a lot of water? Yes. Does your room have carpet or hard-wood floors? Carpet. Do you take naps daily? No.

Who were you named after? No one in particular. Do you plan on traveling this spring or summer? Fuck you. Do you know anyone who is colorblind? My husband is colorblind. Have you ever been a teacher’s pet? Eh. What is your absolute favorite hobby? Swimming. Ever been to a tanning bed before? Nope. Are you satisfied with your financial stability? Lol. Who is your favorite actor / actress? Will Arnett, Aubrey Plaza, Paul Rudd, Alison Brie. Are your nails painted? They are very very grown out from when I got them done over a month ago now. Do you ever accidentally talk to inanimate objects? Uh. What’s your favorite flavor of ice cream? Butter Pecan because I’m 80. Have you ever kissed someone of the same gender? Yeah, ish. Do you receive any hate mail? Eh. I have, but it’s not a regular occurrance. Have you ever sent a letter in the mail? Yeah. If you could, would you have a pen pal? Sure. What color are the pants you’re wearing? I’m wearing black leggings. What is your life philosophy? Do what makes you happy. Who last sent you a goodnight text message? Idk. Do you own any clothes that are your favorite color? Yup. Have you ever been in a hot tub before? Yup. What’s your favorite comedy movie? Wet Hot American Summer. In which year were you born? 1989.

#surveys #quarantine

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geek-gem · 5 years

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Something I wanted to make because I made this on Twitter and it hasn’t really gotten any responses. But also after checking out the Jake Gyllenhaal tag. I think this will get more traction than Twitter.

Especially I decided to just start over my recoding of The Day After Tomorrow for the hell of it, while listening to a 1 hour loop of the original Resident Evil 2 safe room theme.

So I did a what if post if the first two Resident Evil movies were made that respected the source material a bit more. Out of the castings I mostly kept the same actors, some I used to play different character. Yet there was one I changed. That was Leon Kennedy in my what if version of Resident Evil Apocalypse. Despite there has been an actor who portrays him in Resident Evil Retribution. I have not seen the film and just not interested in it right now. But this one fan casting choice I had for Leon despite it seems weird but I just like it

How do you guys feel about Jake Gyllenhaal as Leon Kennedy?

Yeah seriously the cast just popped into my head or something. I have thought about other actors like Andrew Garfield. Also be aware I mean Jake during like his 20′s. Not right now actually. Considering with the upcoming Resident Evil movie reboot. Hopefully a sequel I’d would like somebody like KJ Apa to portray Leon(Someone near Leon’s age during the RE2) or other choices that would be nice.

It seems like the casting seems to be a bit to big maybe compared to other actors in those Resident Evil movies. Including I had to look up on Wikipedia of Jake. So October Sky and Donnie Darko were released earlier where he was praised for his performances in those movies.

Including just now I am looking up Sienna Guillory(Who played Jill in these films), doesn’t seem like she’s as big as Jake. Basically what I’m speaking about is the idea of if an actor is big, it might be distracting when they play a character, shit like that people talk about.

Mainly this casting was inspired by me watching him in The Day After Tomorrow(Which I mentioned I recorded and I’m letting it play again on my tv). A movie I don’t mind and like. But also liking Jake’s performance in that film. Including I’ve seen him in October Sky, and Spider-Man Far From Home. He’s a good actor. Again he just popped in my head.

Besides this fan casting went with the idea if Resident Evil Apocalypse was a different film in some ways. Such as making Jill more of the main character, if it was longer and written better. I decided to use the idea from this promotional faux newspaper Screen Gems did where it detailed the background of Jill Valentine which involved her partner being Leon being killed, and being dismissed afterwards.

Yet in Retribution he’s okay so guessing he lived or the people behind the film didn’t care about that newspaper thing. So I decided to use that and make this easy idea of Leon being a cop on his first day and was gonna be Jill’s partner. Also there’s Claire and others. It’s a mixture of RE2 and 3 the stories.

I’m sorry to ramble on. To me it just looks like Jake had youngness to him that’s kind of perfect to fit Leon during that time. Yet he looks as if he could fit the role well and can work with a bigger cast. Considering mainly my experience watching The Day After Tomorrow.

Yet your hearing this from a guy who hasn’t seen a lot of Jake’s work actually. So this fan casting could be shit but it’s a what if idea and Jake is a good actor. So he’s maybe good for the role if given the right script.

Yeah he doesn’t have the hairstyle and he isn’t blonde. Meh you can dye it blonde, but okay nothing too serious....I weirdly like Jake how he is. But yeah some changes to his hair, and put him in a police full body R.P.D. uniform with Leon realizing he should put more armor on in a way and not stay in causal clothes(Mentioning what the remake did and showed). It seems like a good choice and I’m talking about the casting.

Yeah this got long. So what do you guys think? This is just a what if idea if it had happened. It’s just a nice fan casting I like.

#resident evil #jake gyllenhaal #leon kennedy

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jmsa1287 · 5 years

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‘Now Apocalypse,' on Starz, is a Candy Color Queer Noir

i got to write about Greg Araki’s new TV show “Now Apocalypse”

There's a lot going on in "Now Apocalypse," the new series from openly gay filmmaker Gregg Araki ("Mysterious Skin," "Kaboom") debuting Sunday on Starz. It's one-part modern millennial satire and one-part Los Angeles noir that's mixed with a conspiracy thriller and a raunchy 80s comedy. It's all rolled in a tight joint doused in queer expression. It's a lot to take in.

"Now Apocalypse," where Steven Soderbergh serves as an executive producer, is singular in that only Araki could have been the person behind this bright, sex-driven romp. That is a feat, considering the sprawling TV landscape that offers thousands of options. Despite its delightful eccentricities, the show is more an admirable effort than a successful one, though you can't help root for it. Much like stoner L.A. noir "Under the Silver Lake," a film that has been delayed a few times over the last year starring Andrew Garfield and directed by "It Follows" helmer David Robert Mitchell (it's scheduled to hit theaters April 19), "Now Apocalypse" is set in the City of Angels and follows a group of incredibly horny young adults.

It mostly focuses on Ulysses (Avan Jogia), who, like the protagonist in "Under the Silver Lake," is an aimless pothead, unsure of his next move in life and not in a rush to get there. Self-describing as queer, Ulysses moved to L.A. from the Midwest with his straight best friend, super friendly hunk Ford (Beau Mirchoff). The pair live together and while Ulysses spends his time working odd jobs, getting laid with guys he met off Grindr and smoking weed, the airhead Ford is an aspiring screenwriter, who is dating the sultry Severine (Roxane Mesquida), a French scientist with a super top-secret job. There's also Carly (Kelli Berglund), Ulysses close friend, who is a struggling actress and does cam work to make rent.

There's not really a tangible plot to "Now Apocalypse." Threads orbit around Ulysses's world, chief among them the visions he's been having. He's unsure if he's smoking too much or actually experiencing uncanny moments but Ulysses is pretty confident lizard people are taking over the planet and he starts to get sucked into the teachings of a crockpot alien conspiracy theorist played by Henry Rollins. He thinks these freaky signs are connected to something larger... or it could just be too much weed.

Another story baked into Ulysses journey is a mystery man he met on a dating app who keeps ditching him. Gabriel ("Teen Wolf" star Tyler Posey) and Ulysses have a strong connection after meeting (and hooking up) one time but there's something strange going on with him — is the universe trying to tell Ulysses something or is it all in his head? Ulysses also stands by Ford's side when a shady movie producer takes notice of him and claims his script is aces (Ulysses has read the script and knows that's bull). He also lends a shoulder to Ford when Severine wants to open up their relationship, and he's there for Carly when she needs work/relationship advice. Everyone on the show is great but "Now Apocalypse" doesn't really take off until the fifth episode when the main characters surrounding Ulysses (Ford, Carly and Severine) are finally put together in the same room.

Like "Pose," "Now Apocalypse" pops on screen because it's not afraid of color. Fire engine reds, sun yellows and sky blues are electric and if you happen to be channel surfing (yes, a thing we rarely do anymore) there's a good chance the brightness among the saturated prestige TV palette (dark blues, washed out greys) will grab you — or it may be the sheer amount of nudity. Araki has never been afraid of sex in his films and that's no different on the small screen — there's a lot of nudity and graphic sex in "Now Apocalypse." But it's never used in a gross way; characters always have a reason for being naked and its played relatively natural. It's a free-loving and spiritual series, unafraid of what it is and what it wants to say, that has its freak flag raised high.

"Now Apocalypse" is not for everyone (if a scene involving a urinating fetish doesn't scare you away, stick around) but it fits into the genre/queer-ish focused fare Starz has turned out over the last few years ("The Girlfriend Experience," "Outlander," "Vida," "American Gods"). It aims for a lot and sometimes can only pull off a few of the themes it wants to explore. The show's tone can be confusing and sometimes the big haunting mystery hanging over Ulysses's head feels too goofy to be creepy or be an actual threat to the world, offsetting the high stakes presented in the show.

Nevertheless, Araki's series falls into a somewhat new TV trend, the half-hour series (think "Russian Doll" and "Homecoming"). Maybe a few years ago the show would have been a full 60 minutes but in 2019 it's smartly stripped back to a lean 30. "Now Apocalypse" is a mixed bag but it's easy to digest — like an edible brownie that may be a little too strong for your taste.

#tv #now apocalypse #greg araki #lgtbq #gay #queer

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 14 years

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The Social Network Press Conference

The Social Network Press Conference With Justin Timberlake, Jesse Eisenberg and Arron Sorkin New York Film Festival September 24, 2010

Written by H. B. Forman

“ Getting to the heart of the Social Network”

The Social Network

The new film The Social Network is sharp, topical and on-the-mark.

One of the standouts at this year’s New York Film Festival, the premise of the movie is delving into the life of Mark Zuckerberg, the founder of the biggest virtual community -- known as Facebook – and the film is more than compelling.

Add to the fact that it was written by West Wing and American President scribe Aaron Sorkin, and it is portrayed by a stellar cast, including singer/actor Justin Timberlake, and actors Jesse Eisenberg and Andrew Garfield, it all adds up to a major home run.

Believe it or not 26-year-old Mark Zuckerman [Eisenberg] started Facebook in his dorm room and seven years later, it was a multi-million-dollar corporation valued a few years ago at $15 billion. Facebook connects 500 million members in 207 countries. The movie looks at this abrasive, sarcastic and rather angry young man, who prefers computers to people. The movie is tense, fast moving and compelling.

The Social Network, which recently opened in area theaters, profiles one young man’s road to becoming a billionaire and fans everywhere are buzzing about the accuracy of the film’s storyline. Whether or not the film is true, it’s undeniable that Facebook has had a huge impact on society and our daily lives.

According to a recent poll at MovieTickets.com, of almost 10,000 moviegoers, 39 percent of them began using Facebook as a teenager, while surprisingly 25 percent of them began using the social networking site when they were over the age of 40. So above all else, it is a movie that is terribly current in its content and makes us think on many levels.

The well-attended 48th New York Film Festival showed a wide variety of cutting, edge, intelligent, thought-provoking and eclectic films, including Clint Eastwood’s latest Hereafter, starring Matt Damon and Bryce Dallas Howard, that follows three separate plotlines dealing with mortality. Here is a look at The Social Network from its actors and writer, Aaron Sorkin.

Justin Timberlake Photo Credit PR Photos

Question: Are you addicted to Facebook in the real world?

Justin Timberlake: It's hard enough to do voice work in animated films, at the same time!

Question: Justin, will you be singing again anytime soon?

Justin Timberlake: I was hoping you were going to ask me about [my animated work as] Yogi Bear! I'm glad that we can just get that...out of the way.

Question: What are some of the challenges of playing guys that lots of people think are well…assholes?

Justin Timberlake: It soon became clear to me that my character wasn't...the hero! So to speak. But you never play anything sitting behind a laptop, twirling your mustache. And that's the beauty of this film to me. You sort of get to pick who you side with. And I think that's the dynamic of what makes these characters tick. But you defend your character; just like nobody believes what they're doing is wrong in life.

Question: Was there something about Zuckerberg that got you hooked on this movie?

Justin Timberlake: I also have empathy for human beings, thank you! No, I think we all felt that so much information was just there, on the paper. But as far as playing my character, I just stayed far away from anything on the Internet as I could. Just for myself, you meet my character when he pretty much meets Facebook. So I wanted to be excited by that. But like what's been said, the themes and ideas are so much bigger than what the actual invention of Facebook in the film services.

Question: What else are your thoughts about this movie – which has to be so different from your music?

Justin Timberlake: I’ll jump to it really quickly. It’s fun to watch the film. There are so many scenes that get shot without certain actors in the scenes and I think there’s a line that Jesse’s character has about it being a final club. He said, “You are the president. It’s a party and you’re throwing it.” I think that’s kind of the intrigue behind having your own Facebook page and creating your own profile. It’s your world; I would assume that that’s sort of what it is. As we’ve been promoting this film I get the idea collectively that none of us are really that savvy at using Facebook or any other social networking site, so I would think that that would be the intrigue.

Question: Okay, that makes sense what else struck you?

Justin Timberlake: I think that what makes the film so intriguing in the bigger picture of things if you kind of zoom out is that I think social networking in general is still a hypothesis. I find that people are still asking the question and they ask it more and more to people like us – I don’t know why they expect an answer, because like I said, I’m ridiculously stupid when it comes to computers and social networking – but I think the hypothesis is still pretty clear -- is it a good thing or is it a bad thing?

Question: Okay makes sense.

Justin Timberlake: And I think there’s always a medium, there’s always a medium that’s being pushed to show us how human we are, how kind we are and how cruel we are, and so the accessibility and the instant gratification of having all of your photos and profile and everything lined up, I think that’s probably what makes something like a Facebook or any other social networking site so great to people. I think that’s the intrigue is that we still wonder if it’s going to create great things in the world or are we going to waste away with it, and that’s probably what’s going to get people in the theater.

Question: I know you said you’re not really that savvy when it comes to computers, but what is your online obsession?

Justin Timberlake: You you really want to know about that? It’s really not that interesting. I’m not obsessed. I’m happy to say, I’m three years clean.

Question: I understand you did get to meet Sean Parker and I wonder how that went and if you gained anything from it.

Justin Timberlake: I briefly bumped into him here in New York one time, but we spoke for probably all of two minutes. Ironically, I met him before I was cast in the role. One of the parts of the zeitgeist that is the internet, there was about a three week period where I was going through the audition process that it was announced that I was going to play the role. So I went through a three week period of damn it, I better get this role because everyone think I’m playing him. No, I’m kidding. But I met him before I was cast in the role of Sean Parker in the movie. We met briefly and he seemed very nice but we didn’t really talk about much. He mentioned that he had read the script and he thought that I was going to be playing the part but at the time I wasn’t, so that was awkward. He seemed like a nice guy though. We said hello and it was in passing; I was leaving and he was arriving to a place.

Justin Timberlake and Jesse Eisenberg in The Social Network

Question: Jesse, were you trying to play Zuckerberg as Asperger Syndrome afflicted?

Jesse Eisenberg: Well yeah, there's a certain kind of disengagement that you see. But frankly, it's not unlike some of the disengagement I do during these interviews! Because, they can be incredibly uncomfortable. So to attribute his behavior to some kind of extreme diagnosis, doesn't feel right to me. But there was this quality I wanted to bring out. You know, this difficulty connecting with others. Of course that would make his invention so much more ironic. You know, that he created something that connects everybody else. And feels perfectly comfortable in the environment of Facebook.

Question: Will you elaborate on that?

Jesse Eisenberg: Well, even though he may seem enigmatic and detached, there was still something beneath that. And he's created something out of nothing and is a billionaire, but still feels alone. So even though it may seem mysterious, it's coming from a real place. But yeah, it was certainly something that we wanted to bring out. And it makes the character far more interesting to play, that he has trouble connecting with others. But I certainly don't want to diagnose him!

Question: Are you addicted to Facebook in the real world?

Jesse Eisenberg: I signed up for Facebook the first day of rehearsal. So I could understand what my character was talking about!

Question: What are some of the challenges of playing guys that lots of people think are assholes?

Jesse Eisenberg: Well, it's impossible to play a role and look at it the way you do, or objectively at all. Because my main responsibility was not only to understand where my character was coming from, but to be able to defend all of his positions and his behavior. And ultimately sympathize with him.

Question: Anything else you can add to that?

Jesse Eisenberg: Well, over the course of the movie, and now, I've developed an even greater affection for my character. You have no choice. I mean; it's impossible to disagree with a character. You know, you're shooting over months and for very long days, so you're spending a lot of time working hard to defend your character's behavior. So even if the character is acting in a way that hurts other characters, you still have to understand all of that behavior. It's just impossible to play it any other way.

Question: Was there something about Zuckerberg that got you hooked on this movie?

Jesse Eisenberg: I auditioned for the movie prior to looking up Mark Zuckerberg online.

Question: Well, you seemed to nail him pretty well anyway.

Jesse Eisenberg: I didn't know what he looked like, and I never heard him speak. But in order to fell more prepared and know whom this guys was, I got my hands on every interview, and watched every video that was online. But this is not so much a movie about Facebook. In the same way that this is not a traditional biopic, where I'm trying to do an imitation of him. So I was really just focused on playing the director's idea of Mark Zuckerberg. And even though he may seem enigmatic and detached, there was still something beneath that. And he's created something out of nothing and is a billionaire, but still feels alone. So even though it may seem mysterious, it's coming from a real place. But yeah, it was certainly something that we wanted to bring out. And it makes the character far more interesting to play, that he has trouble connecting with others. But I certainly don't want to diagnose him!

Question: Jesse, if you could meet Mark Zuckerberg and speak with him, what would you like to know?

Jesse Eisenberg: I’d like to go to Johnny Rockets with Mark because I like their shakes. I spent six months thinking about him everyday, I developed a great affection for my character and of course by extension the man, and I’d be very interested in meeting him. Fortunately, my first cousin, Eric, got a great job working at Facebook about a month before we finished shooting, and I’m hoping he’ll facilitate an introduction one day. I don’t know what I would say. It’s the kind of thing you think about all the time but then I’d finally give the card to Lucy and say Merry Christmas, Lucy, instead of Happy Valentine’s Day.

Question: Talk about the character of the ad executive and whose idea it was for this character? I couldn’t find when I was watching the film who the clear-cut good guys and bad guys were. Who’s the antagonist of this story?

Aaron Sorkin: I’m glad that you couldn’t find a clear cut good guy or bad guy, right, wrong, a person with the truth, a person who is lying. The antagonist and protagonist in the story shifts as we go along. This movie I don’t think belongs to any particular drama, but the one it’s most closely related to is actually a courtroom drama, where we are certain of someone’s guilt or innocence at the beginning and we change our mind five times all the way��through. But strictly speaking, and I don’t mean to get hoity toity on you, but in Aristotelian terms, Mark is the antihero, which actually makes him the protagonist. Generally we equate the protagonist with the hero, with the good guy; that’s actually not what it means. He spends the first hour and 55 minutes being the antihero and the final five minutes of the movie being a tragic hero, which means that he has paid a price and is experiencing remorse.

Question: Tell us more about this, please

Aaron Sorkin: The antagonist again, purely Aristotelian terms, stuff that you learn in playwriting school, which is the person without whom the story couldn’t get going, are the Winklevosses, Sean, and even Eduardo, which is to say simply that if nobody ever sued Mark or Facebook there wouldn’t be a story. In other words, the protagonist and antagonist in this case don’t relate to good guy and bad buy.

Question: I get the sense that you and [the film’s director] David Fincher are both fairly meticulous individuals. So I was wondering if you could talk about generally what your working style is, how do two people with pretty specific visions make it work in a collaborative way?

Aaron Sorkin: David is peerless, absolutely peerless as a visual director, and I write people talking in rooms. But David, first of all, embraced the fact that this was going to be a story told through language, but he did bring a distinct visual style to this, and he did as a director get sensational performances out of his very talented, but young, cast.

Question: Were there any disagreements or differences between the original script and what we saw on screen?

Aaron Sorkin: Our disagreements fell into two categories; things like the screwdriver and the beer, and let me just parenthetically say for anybody who doesn’t know what you’re referring to, this was in Mark Harris’ New York magazine piece that I think is out this week. We know from Mark’s blog, this is early on, the blog that we hear in voiceover after the breakup scene with Erica, that he’s drunk. He says so; he says, “I’m intoxicated.” That blog was verbatim; I excised small parts of it just to make it shorter and make my life easier with transitions, but it was verbatim.

SOURCE

#jesse eisenberg #2010 #the social network

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advotproject · 2 years

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Fear or Love

In a recent film called Tick… Tick… Boom!, about the life of the great Jonathan Larson, the question that is asked becomes a theme: “Do we do things out of fear or love?” If you haven’t seen that movie, I strongly recommend it. Actually, run to see it. It is brilliant and Andrew Garfield is absolutely stunning.

I was listening to the music from the movie and thinking about the question. Fear or love? Am I doing things out of fear or love? As I shepherd my second child towards her driving license, I can tell you I love her dearly, but I am so fearful about her driving. I worry about her driving as a new driver with all the other drivers on the road. While I love her to pieces and I recognize that driving will give her independence, every part of my body is afraid of what could happen, what might happen.

Fear or love? Interesting to put those two words in the same sentence.

I’ve learned a lot about fear and about love from my magnificent students. The love they have for their people, their community, even the gang, is incredibly impressive. The fear that comes with that love of theirs breaks my heart into a thousand pieces again and again.

Fear or love? Working and raising erratic, hormonal teenagers has taught me an important lesson about the short distance between love, hate, fear, and excitement. Love and fear. The drama in my girls’ high school years has shown me that you can hate someone today, love them tomorrow, and vice versa. Maybe it’s not about loving and hating or being afraid. Maybe it’s more about what’s between them and not wasting the time to make the distance greater, but keeping it smaller.

Ironically, I have learned in this life of mine that we are incredibly afraid of what we love, and I have seen too many people fall in love with what they are afraid of.

Years ago, I was working in a girls’ lock up facility that is now closed. Recently, this facility has been in the news because of a horrible sex scandal that was going on there. This does not surprise me. Reading about it in the LA Times made me sick. While I do not know the specific girls who were brave enough to come forward, I do know so many exactly like them. I was not there when this was going on, yet I feel guilty, sad, and horrible because shit like this SHOULD NOT HAPPEN! Period. In that same facility they used to send girls to the SHU, pronounced "shoe,” which stands for Security Housing Units. The SHU was a form of solitary confinement where they would be in a room, locked in closed quarters, alone. The nickname for it was also the “box.”

Since my time working there, the SHU has been banned and is no longer allowed, thank goodness. I remember a young woman telling me “Ms., I love the box. But I am also afraid of it.”

This girl was so young. I think it is a much bigger crime that she was detained in that facility, far more serious than any crime she could have ever committed.

“Tell me more,” I gently asked her.

“Well, I’m afraid to be alone, but I ain’t gonna lie. I also love being alone without all the females around me.” She adds, “You know Ms., I have lived with fear since I can remember. In my first foster home I remember telling myself, ‘Girl, you better love this fear and figure out how not to let it beat you.’ Right then, I decided to love what I am afraid of. The bitch is, sometimes I fucking am afraid of what I love and that ain’t good.”

I remember looking at this child. She was 14 at the time. This was one of the first girls’ groups I taught. I asked her, “What do you do in the box?” “I dream, Ms. I make up songs and I breathe ‘cause I am alone and that is good. But after a while I sometimes get lonely, and then the depression finds me. You know, Ms., everything can turn to shit if you do it for too long.”

“That is very true,” I told her. “I am really sorry,” I added. “I am sorry that they did this to you.” She looked straight at me in shock.

“Why you go being sorry? You didn’t do nothing, Ms.” She was confused.

“I am sorry, because I care about you, and I don’t want you to be afraid.”

Her eyes got a little teary. “Fear is love, Ms. Don’t worry.”

I worry, Sweet Girl, I thought to myself. Oh, how I worry.

And because I had nothing wise to say I remember sitting quietly and putting my arm around this child so that maybe, just maybe, that day she felt more love than fear.

Eight years later, I am sitting watching this movie and I hear this song.

“Cages or wings? Which do you prefer? Ask the birds Fear or love, baby? Don't say the answer Actions speak louder than words.

What does it take To wake up a generation? How can you make someone Take off and fly?

If we don't wake up And shake up the nation We'll eat the dust of the world Wondering why, why?”

I think of that girl and wonder what happened to her. Did she finally find the love that would ease her fear? Was she one of the girls who, out of fear, closed her eyes and let the people who were supposed to be taking care of her do what they wanted to her? I am incredibly afraid for the youth who are detained in the facilities we work in. I love them; however, now I don’t have direct contact with them because I have an amazing team that works with them. As always, it is my students who teach me the important lessons in life.

Face your fears with love. Try not to be afraid of what you love.

I add to that prayer. Yes, pray a lot. Pray for yourself. Pray for others.

I truly believe that someone is listening.

Sometimes it might be you just listening to yourself but that, too, is enough.

Fear or love? What moves YOU forward?

#theadvotproject #therippleeffect

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the-voice-of-hell · 3 years

Text

Rent is Theft, part 20

Read from the beginning here, read the previous chapter here. Note: My MC is a Filipina trans woman and I am not. If you have notes on that or anything else, hit me up.

***

It was taking longer than it should. Tall as the building was, a guy in each stairwell going floor to floor could get through the whole mess quickly enough. If Mike took some elevators and skipped them, a few repeats still wouldn’t take all that long, and they’d catch up to him. Still, it was close to eleven o’clock by the time they came back.

Grime and Richie were worn out, but more than that, weirded out. Mike was super energetic, eyes bugged out, acting wired. Wasn’t his drug of choice heroin? Marcie got up to take his arm.

“Mikey, are you OK? Come sit down.”

“Hey, we got the werewolf,” he said, beaming at Knobby as he let Marcie sit him down. “I’m great, Marce. We got snacks, great!” As soon as his butt hit the couch, he lurched forward and started throwing back handfuls of chex mix.

“Take it easy, Mikey! You aren’t high, are you?”

“Yeah, dude,” Knobby said. “You look like you’re gonna explode.”

“What, what, what?” He looked around at people, saw how they were regarding him, and leaned back with arms folded. “I’m clean, I swear it. Just feel excited about the exorcism is all. You know I like The Exorcist, right Marce?”

“Yeah, I know it.”

“Well I don’t wanna start up until, say, five minutes to midnight, so relax, Mike.” I picked up some three by five cards and started passing them out to people. “Everybody has to read part of the spell, and do some things. I'm going to tell everybody what to do or to read and when. Some of you only have one card, some of you have a few. I'll let you know what card to read off of and when, but it's a good idea to look at the cards now and let me know if you'll have trouble reading any of the words on them."

"Scorg?," Olivia asked herself.

"I think it's pronounced sour," Knobby said. He did not have any cards to read himself, but was trying to help her.

Leimomi leaned over and softly said to me, "I can't read any of this. It's too hard."

I put a reassuring hand on her arm, but was too distracted to speak when Mike stood up and started for the living room. "Hold that thought, sweetie. Mike, where are you going?"

"Gonna check out the magical stuff. I'm so excited!" He was already around the corner and I jumped up to follow him.

In the living room he stood still at the edge of the circle, body language tense, twitchy, unnatural. A few people had followed me out and were standing behind me, but I couldn't pay them any mind. Mike had my full attention.

"Argh OOgha!," he grunted. He doubled forward at the waist, began to transform. A million hair-like tendrils sprouted through the back of his polo shirt, and where his skin was visible it was likewise soon consumed with green fur. Amid the fur, tiny leaves blossomed like chia sprouts and some of those thickened growing into small oak leaves. "It's all mine," he groaned in a strangely lecherous tone.

He began to piss into my magic circle. The fucking nerve on that guy!

"Holy shit," Knobby yelped. "He's got it too!"

"Nuh-uh," said Olivia, "It was always just him."

"Shit," I said, "I'm sorry, Knobby." Mike started to lunge forward, and I grabbed him around the waist. I didn't like the feeling of his slippery wet monster ***** against my wrists.

He was too powerful and began to jerk free of my grasp, when another set of arms joined mine on the left, another on the right. In a chaotic press of flesh, the crowd managed to wrangle him into the kitchenette.

Somehow in the ruckus I ended up on the far side of the kitchenette, and could see my comrades in the melee. They were scrawny Olivia and Knobby, Momi, Marcie, and Richie. These are not the fighters I would have chosen, but were clearly the only people able to get in behind me easily within the small confines of the apartment.

I also had a full look at transformed Mike. There was something familiar in his appearance, his twisted gargoyle form. I had seen statues, or drawings perhaps, of club wielding wild men clad in ivy. He bore that likeness, but the leaves grew straight from his body clustered in areas where his own natural hair would be the longest - top of head, beard, chest belly and crotch. Weirdly his clothing were mostly intact, the tendrils having grown through the fabric before the leaves blossomed on them. Some buttons had burst to accommodate his increased strength and, disgustingly, increased virility. The leaves on his belly mercifully obscured the contours of his exposed ******. The Jolly Green Giant wouldn't do this to us, I thought.

We were treating him with kid gloves, to be honest. It was less out of mercy and affection for the man, as much as we did have that, then it was out of revulsion for his lurid condition. Nobody wanted to accidentally get a fistful of that wobbly green thing.

Momi, of course, was our ace in the hole. She easily gripped him around the chest in her strong arms and dragged him around the corner towards the living room.

"Hold him right there," I said, "Don't mess up the symbols in the triangle! Olivia, I got some rope in the bathroom. Go grab it, quick!"

The hog tying was about as difficult as one would expect. I was glad we hadn't needed to do this to the frail boy, but Mike didn't really deserve this either, the poor weirdo. Marcie, of course, was his best friend in the building, and lamented his sorry state.

"Oh, Mikey, what are we going to do with you?"

"We're going to exorcise his ass," I said.

Sadly we had about an hour left until midnight, so we had to hold him there like that. It was arduous and disgusting, but Leimomi and the floories got through it together - while I reheated the blood and magic brew.

"Do we know his whole name?"

"No," said Marcie, "We were in Narcotics Anonymous."

"Then Michael it is." It was time. "Patrick, pass me the wands. Momi, Olivia, Marcie, you're with me."

We got Mike into place tied to a chair in the middle of the triangle and I stood above him imperiously. I got the wands and handed one to Olivia and one to Marcie. I gently directed Momi and them into positions, then turned my attention back to the green man, holding my wand high.

“In the name of Our Blessed Lady I command thee to depart from Michael. Evil green devil from Hell, begone! Begone! Again I say, begone!” I gestured for assist and Grime reached in to pass me a Garfield mug of the magic potion.

Mike looked up at me in wonderment, goggle eyes and fuzzleaf brow. What did he think was about to happen?

I slapped him across the cheek with the wand and he barked in surprise, then I splashed him with the hot magic potion from the other side. Some went in his mouth. I hoped it wasn’t too poisonous, but I tried to stay in the zone.

“I command thee to depart and free Michael’s soul. Evil green devil from Hell, begone! Begone! Again I say, begone!”

“Garrggh-ooo!” He was making very wolfy faces for a plant-themed monster man. I smacked him on the other cheek, splashed him again. With all the bargling, his mouth was open and caught more of the potion than I would have preferred.

“I command thee to depart and free Michael’s soul. Evil green devil from Hell, begone! Begone! Again, begone!” Slash, splash. My mug was empty, dripping. I handed my wand to Momi and stepped back to the kitchenette. I fished out my three by five cards. Had to do things a little different. “Alright, ladies. You repeat after me, whack him one time, then walk to the triangle corner to your left.”

“I don’t wanna whack Mikey!,” Marcie said.

“Mine! Hoogha hoogha!” Mike was writhing.

“We should whack Mike, Marcie,” Momi said.

“OK.”

I read, “Green spirit, ugly spirit, old spirit.” They repeated the lines. I’d swapped out references to wolves, tried to make it relevant. “Do as you are told, leave this man, fly away,” they monotonously repeated, “To where it is night and never day!”

Richie helped me fill three mugs with the reheated blood sauce. I brought the steaming mugs over to the ladies and passed them around. “Whack him one time and then splash some of this on him. Not all of it at once, you wanna be able to do it two more times, OK?”

Marcie frowned deeply, Momi looked weirded out, and Olivia was her usual tightlipped sphynx self. I offered sympathetic looks and went back to the kitchenette. “Whack away! When you’re done, corner to the left.” I waited for them to do their bits, then repeated the spell. “Green spirit, ugly spirit, old spirit...”

While they whacked and doused him again, I asked Grime to pass me a bottle of rum. “Magical reasons, I swear!” This needed to feel more magical. After a deep swig, I looked out over the scene. My ladies were ready for the last round of their part, and beyond them on the far side of the circle, the rest of the floories watched with trepidation. Come on guys, it’s magic! Swig.

“Green spirit, ugly spirit, old spirit,” I went through my paces and they mumbled through their own. “Now whack him again and then pour out the last of your cups on him!” I reluctantly released my grip on the rum and used a mug to scoop more of the magic potion from the giant pasta pot serving as one of my cauldrons. Then I waved for the ladies to come back to the kitchenette. I took Momi’s wand off her hands. It felt a little slippery, the end was slick with the blood sauce.

I went out to see our monster man, did a little clumsy twirl on the floor along the way, then stood before him. “Michael! Michael! Michael!”

He looked up at me, shaking ill ingredients out of his eyes like a wet dog. He was still green like the Hulk. I smacked his stupid face.

“Go, fly away to the sky, green devil thee I defy. Out, out, with a howl and a yell, It will carry thee faster and surer to Hell!” I smacked him with the wand again, then poured the steaming magic potion over his head. It washed away much of the bloody mess, and a few of his beard leaves fell away. Progress?

I turned to the rest of the floories. “All of you, come to the kitchenette, get a cup of the potion, and walk with me in a circle around the guy. Repeat the spell after me!” I waved the wand to stir them into motion. Knobby went first, then Patrick dragged Perry.

I waved the wand like a conductor until I had enough floories in motion, then led them, marching in a circle around Mike. “Repeat after me! Away, away, shoo! Think we care for you? You’ll feel our whips crack. We’ll beat you blue-black! Foolish green spirit, we have you at last! Back to thy Hell home, fly out of him fast!”

It was a weird, sad, and wearying protest march. Hell no, we won’t go? I grabbed the rum bottle on one of my rotations past the counter, tucking my wand into my head wrap, so I could hold my card in one hand and dook with the other.

We couldn’t keep it together - not all of us. Perry quickly became unmanageable, which meant Patrick had to take care of him. We managed to at least keep them in the same room. I felt it was important for us all to participate as best we could.

We quickly ran out of magic potion to slosh on him. I was bumping into people out of drunkenness, they were bumping into each other out of weariness. Our breath vapor collected on the windows and surfaces, the mess on the floor was spread under our feet. The chalk joined the fluids in muddy, gritty clumps that made walking even more treacherous. I looked at the wall clock whenever I passed it, waiting for one AM to draw close. Walking in circles for even ten minutes seems like forever. This was some number of forevers.

We were mumbling zombies, taking half-assed slaps at Mike, slipping, losing our place in the spell and starting over again. I almost forgot to call an end to our torments, one time on the clock looking the same as another to me by then.

“Everybody, back to the circle!” I waved them back and they complied, leaving me with Mike. I pulled out my wand.

The green man looked at me with his head lolling on his shoulders, his eyes rolling in their sockets. Could he even see me, or was his head coincidentally pointed my way? He groaned, “I liked The Exorcist.”

“Green spirit, from Michael you flee! Michael, come correct and be free!” I kicked him in the stomach.

Instantly, he vomited green stuff Exorcist-style all the hell over me. I was lucky it didn’t reach above my breast level or get both of my arms, but the rest of my body was awash in sick. He was thrashing and spewing and thrashing some more.

More from a sense of insult than a magical imperative, I started smacking him about the face with my wand again. “Come on! Come ON! Ugh!”

The fountain ran dry and he slumped in the chair. I tried to step back, slipped, and landed on my ass in the green. “AugH!” A few other people were barfing now too. I kept it together, pinching my nose and making my breaths shallow.

Grime came up with a pitcher of water and poured it out on me. “You alright?”

“Eh. Ugh. Wait. Hose Mike down! We gotta see if he’s green!”

Grime looked at the guy - he was less drenched than I was - then pulled out his cellphone. He turned it on flashlight mode and tilted Mike’s head back to look. “He’s pink like a salmon filet, Courtney!”

Knobby clapped excitedly. “Wooo!” Richie joined in, but on the whole, the excitement was muted.

Grime helped me to my feet, giving up on any idea that he could remain clean. I looked at Mike’s beaten body, I looked at all my people.

“Good job, everybody. Maybe we call it a night, see if this’ll work on the rest of us later, alright?” I joined Grime in checking out our freshly re-pinked man. Marcie budged in as well. It seemed the three of us had all resisted the compulsion to vomit. Natural born leaders, haha.

“Mikey, talk to us, Mikey.” Marcie held a disposable red cup of water vaguely under his head, hoping he’d stir and give it a sip.

Grime didn’t say anything but tried to prop up his head in his hands, gently. For a man with no background in medicine, he seemed very comfortable helping a man out physically - unusual in our homophobic place in the world. Point Grime.

I reached in as well, opened his mouth to see if his air passages were open, tried to feel for breath with the back of my least slimy hand. He started to spit and twitch at the feel of my fingers on his mouth, and his big eyes dimly stirred.

“Mikey, hey. Gotta wake up, enough to get a drink, hon. Take a sip for me.”

“Maybe he could use some air,” Deandre suggested on his way past.

“Yeah,” Grime said. He tried to get him untied - hard to find the ends at first.

“Graeme,” I said, “Thanks, but I’d like you to go make sure everyone else is OK. Me and Marcie got this.”

“Good thinking. I’ll see you later.”

Leimomi joined us, which was crucial because Marcie and I did not have the strength to move Mike at that late hour. Everybody else filed out of the horrible ruins of my apartment pretty quickly, and the three of us hauled the man into my bathroom, sat him on the toilet. After we got him to drink some water, Marcie tried to get him cleaned up. Momi helped me with my own hideous state, everybody taking turns at the sink.

Marcie and Leimomi got him back to his apartment, where Marcie said she’d stay and watch over him for a while, then Momi came back to me. My place was a disaster and we were too worn out to do more than stopgap cleanup, with her doing most of the labor.

Come three in the morning, we had me at least clean enough to stop dripping horror slime everywhere I went, and decided to spend the remains of the night at her place. I grabbed a few things for the stay.

Leimomi turned on the lights and walked me straight to her bathroom. “First thing, you gotta take a quick shower. Then you gotta wash your hair and wrap it with somethin’ clean.” She started taking off my clothes completely unromantically, which made me a little sad but was the most sensible way to go. Mike’s vomit smelled like that stuff usually does, with a strange vegetable undertone, as if he’d been pounding concentrated celery extract. My nasty clothes went into a trash bag for now. I could see if there was any way to salvage any of them later.

She tried to help me into the bathtub, but I resisted. Still enough strength to hold myself up. I kissed her on the shoulder and hoped it wouldn’t be too disgusting. As I lifted my head to turn around, she caught me for a little kiss on the lips. I smiled and drew the shower curtain.

A while later, my body was squeaky clean, which left one terrible task to contend with. I braced myself and removed the head wrap. Immediately, Reverse Courtney started in on me.

“You know you can’t do me like you did the green man, right? You’re the witch here, you’d need somebody else to do the magic on you, can’t do it on yourself.”

“Bullshit, I can teach somebody. Not like I knew that was going to work anyway.”

“Hey, maybe it didn’t work. Maybe green man comes back in the night, attacks Marcie.”

“Go to Hell.”

“Maybe he gives her the high hard--”

“Shoulda held your breath, bitch.” The back of my head coughed and sputtered as she was blasted by the shower head. “Don’t bite me or you’ll never get clean, OK? You like tasting dirty hair all day?”

I dipped to get some shampoo in my hand and she broke free of the torrent of water. “I’ll kill ya! I’ll kill ya! You’re going down, bitch! They’ll put you in man prison! You’ll get AIDS and--” She choked and sputtered again as I ran shampoo through my hair, and quickly got it back under water.

Unfortunately, she did bite at me. I was getting practiced at minimizing the damage - no blood drawn. I muffled her with a towel at the end of my maneuvers, put on a clean bathrobe, and came out into Leimomi’s boudoir.

“I’m sorry,” she said, sitting in near total darkness. “I heard that stuff.”

“It’s OK. But I wonder. You never told me how you wash your hair. Does it try to kill you, or is it just annoying?”

“Just annoying. It doesn’t try to kill me, but I don’t know what it would do to somebody else. I hafta do it alone.” She stood up. I guess she’d worked up a sweat too, even if she didn’t get hosed with celery puke.

“OK babe.” I stepped close to give her a kiss. Her lips tasted saltier than I remembered, probably in noticing a contrast where before we’d been equally sweaty. She gently pushed me away.

“I’ll see you when I’m done, Courtney.”

She left me to get cleaned up, and I carefully laid myself out on her bed. I was fully intending to stay awake, but the rum and exertion had other plans. I passed out well before she returned.

***