#yall really are out here being the Most kind in the tags of this set

[3d-wifey]

And They'd Find Us in A Week - Chapter 11

Pairing: Finnick Odair x Reader Word Count: 8.3k Synopsis: Here! Playlist: Listen up! Tag list: - @melancholicmelanin, @yvy1s, @glomp-me, @honethatty12, @swftlore, @hashcakes, @antoheartit, @finnickodaddy, @lilifl0wer, @antoheartit, @kermitcrimess, @persophonekarter, @aawdrea, @obaewankenobis, @xyxlyn A/N: LADIES N GENTLEMEN, THE MOMENT YOU'VE BEEN WAITING FOR! there are multiple POV changes in this, I'm training yall for the arena and Mockingjay. FYI: I was so disheartened bc this felt like the worst past I've written for this story :(((

Past (xii) - Finnick

[ 21 & 22] - DISTRICT FOUR

Finnick is sitting at his desk, probably looking as worn out and exhausted as he feels. It’s the early hours of the morning, and he hasn’t slept for the past two days. He’s been writing for hours, trying to find the right words to say. The sun had just set when he poured himself into the seat, and now, he glances to his left, the first tendrils of sunlight are peaking up.

The room is quiet, save for the sound of Finnick's labored breathing. His hands are shaking, a side effect of the stress that has been building inside him like a pressure cooker. Snow's visit has left him reeling, unable to process the implications of the deal he's been forced to make. He knows he has to write you a letter, but the thought fills him with a sense of despondency. Something that normally fills him with insurmountable excitement and anticipation fills him with devastation. It feels like, like…there’s nothing he can compare it to. Not everything feels like something else and Finnick knows this kind of grief is very rarely experienced. 

What is he supposed to do? He hasn’t opened the last letter you sent, knowing it will be the last one that won’t carry the weight of mourning. He knows that you'll write to him again, that you won’t take this lying down. You’ll write and write, and he will...he will do nothing.

It sits in front of him, innocuous and unassuming. Something devastating folded in a green envelope and wrapped in your scent like a well-dressed bomb. Does his fear outweigh his longing for you?

He picks it up, holding it gingerly in his hands.

No, he realizes, it doesn’t.

He’s careful to tear the seal on the flap and your perfume wafts up like a surprise. He takes a deep breath, savoring the scent, trying to steel himself for what comes next.

Dear Finn,

I feel like I’ve missed you longer than I’ve had the chance to know you. It's been three months now, but maybe by the time this letter gets to you, we'll both be on our way to the Capitol. I'm working on being more optimistic, but that uphill battle is becoming steeper the longer I'm away from you. 

I keep thinking about when I first met you. When I looked into your eyes, I didn't see fireworks exploding or any of that other shit they depict in those gaudy Capitol romance novels. I looked into your eyes and saw you, something far more breathtaking than fireworks. And what a sight you were.

Three years back, you said something I never agreed with, that it was hard to love you. At the moment, I didn’t get to say what I really wanted to because I was eighteen and the thought of being so emotionally vulnerable made my teeth itch. 

I wanted to say that you aren't hard to love. I wanted to say loving you has been the easiest thing I have ever done. And that's why it was so difficult. I could never let myself love you—let myself have you because how could I possibly deserve to? But that’s the kicker. It’s not hard to love you, Finn, it’s impossible not to.

Something happened recently that made me realize that I’m not the most forthcoming person when it comes to my feelings. But, Finn, know that my love for you is never in doubt. How I feel about you may be complex, but it’s not complicated. I love you desperately, humanly, simply. Without even trying, you peel me back to my core, but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul. 

I miss you, more than I was prepared to—and I was prepared to miss you considerably.

We may not be next to each other, but we’re under the same sky, and each glowing point on that backdrop of black is a star—a sun at the center of someone’s solar system. 

In some other universe, on a different Earth, there’s a girl in love with a boy whose freckles run like constellations. On another, there’s a girl who’s in love with how her boy’s eyes squint when he smiles.

That's the one constant. There are billions of stars, billions of universes, and I love you in every one of them. 

Tears are blurring his vision before he can read how you close the letter and he has to sit back as the full weight of what he’s about to do hits him all at once. Your words are like a balm to his soul, but they burn him just as much as they soothe him. A reminder of what he’s losing just as much as a reminder of what he’s fighting for. There was never a need to put a label on what you two had, what you were to each other, because it would never be replicated. It had always just been ‘yours’ . Now, with a flick of his pen, it’ll be nothing.

Maybe , he thinks, maybe there’s a way I can explain why I’m doing this, some kind of code or something. Maybe I can still meet with her, just in secret. But Snow …It always comes back to Snow. 

Snow reads these letters, and surely he'll be more vigilant of Finnick to make sure he keeps his side of the deal. Besides, if you knew the real reason he’s doing this—that it’s against his will, that he wouldn’t even think to do this in his worst nightmare—you’ll latch on, consequences be damned. 

He’s doing this for you. He has to remind himself that it’s your life on the line here, not just his heart.

Still. 

He's careful when folding the letter back, only bending it along the preexisting lines. He sets it beside himself. 

He picks up a piece of paper from the stack in front of him tucked against the wall, twirling his pen along his fingers. His leg bounces, nails tapping on the desk. 

He writes something down and comes to a stuttering halt. It isn't good enough. He crumbles it up, throws it in the trash, and picks up a new one. 

Write, crumble, trash, repeat. 

He's stuck in a loop, unable to find the right words. The pressure is building, and he can feel himself starting to crack. He needs to get this done, needs to find a way to say goodbye.

Write, crumble, trash, repeat. 

He's lost track of time, doesn't know how long he's been sitting here. The words are eluding him, and he's starting to feel like he's lost his grip on reality.

Finally, he puts pen to paper and the words flow out of him like a dam breaking. He writes about his love for you, about how much he misses you, about how impossible it is to imagine a future without you. He writes about his fear and his grief, about the weight of the world on his shoulders. He writes you goodbye. 

When he's done, he holds your letter carefully, tucking it back into its envelope. He knows what he has to do, knows that there's no turning back now. 

With trembling hands, he picks up the tan envelope and slides his letter inside. He seals it with a kiss, feeling the weight of his decision like a physical burden. 

He takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heart, and places the letter on the stack in front of him. It's done. The words are written, the decision made. 

He sits back in his chair, feeling numb and hollow. He doesn't know what comes next, but he knows that he'll face it head-on. For you.

Past (xii) - You 

[21 & 22] - DISTRICT ELEVEN

Finnick's reply came faster than you expected it to. 

You plop down in your office chair, giddy as you rub at your sore cheeks. You've been smiling like an idiot since you picked up the letter from the Mayor's office. You tear into the envelope and pause. 

The words are kind of smudged, dried drops of something smearing the ink. Luckily, you can still read it. 

My heart, 

My moon and stars. 

I must have rewritten these words at least a dozen times by now. You should see the pile of crumpled paper next to me. You'd call it wasteful, but I'm sure you'd be secretly charmed by how nervous you make me after all these years. 

There's no way to dance around it, and I know how much you hate when people mince their words.

It pains me to think it, let alone write it. This will be my last letter to you. 

I know you have a hundred and one questions bouncing around that beautiful brain of yours, you'll want to know why. And the answer is, there is no why. I've decided that it's best, for both of us, to stop. Stop the letters, stop the meetings. 

It ends here. 

I don't want you to hate me. But if that makes it easier for you to stay away from me, then despise me. More than the Peacekeepers, more than the Capitol, more than Snow. Take that loathing and hold onto it like you used to hold me. 

But, selfishly, I want you to know what I'll be holding onto. 

Those little moments outside of time where you and I were the center of each other's universe, two stars orbiting each other. The balcony of my room, the floor of yours. 

I want you to know this because I don't want you to doubt that I love you. 

Because I do. I love you. I could say it a thousand times, and it still wouldn't be enough. I could say it until my tongue falls off and I'd find a way to sign it to you. 

I could live a thousand lifetimes, be a thousand different people, and I will never love someone like I love you. 

I think of your smile and I fall in love again. I think of your touch and I fall in love again. I won't leave you without you knowing this. I'd sooner stop breathing. 

There are plenty of things I should be thanking you for, but if I tried to make a list, I'd run out of paper. 

I felt...free with you. As free as anyone can be in our situation. I've never felt so close to another person before—I never let myself. 

I thought it would pass eventually, like a sand castle when it's high tide. Noticeable, beautiful, but temporary.

But I can tell you now, that was such bullshit . Since that first dance, there was never a moment I wasn’t in love with you. I loved you before I knew I was capable of it, before I knew I had it in me, and you had my heart before I even knew it was there. I saw the thorns of your past and held my hands out, ready to bleed if it meant I could touch you.

And that scared me. The very thing that gave me strength was my biggest weakness. That’s a hard pill to swallow at sixteen and it’s just as daunting at twenty-two. 

Years ago, you asked me if I could wish for anything, what would it be. I still wish I was a different person, someone you could be proud of. And I wish that person got to grow old with you. 

God, you don't know how badly I want to grow old with you.  

I have no doubt that there's a planet out there under a different sun where we end up together. Hand and hand with the two kids we always talked about. A little girl that'll have me wrapped around her finger because she'll look just like you. And a little boy that'll drive you up the wall because he's a little too much like me. That universe is where my heart lives.  

We'll find it someday, just you and me. Until then, they'll find our love written in the stars. In every constellation.  

-Yours until words lose meaning,  

Finnick O.  

You reread the letter. Then reread it again. You keep rereading it until the words refuse to sit still, letters blurring together. 

It ends here? What’s he talking about? He can't possibly mean the two of you. He can't. 

But he’s ending it. He ended it . Why would he—? He said there’s no reason, but…but there has to be. 

You try to think of anything you did—anything you said that could have led to this but you're coming up blank. 

This doesn't make any sense. It doesn't line up with the Finnick you know. 

The letter says that he loves you, and you thought you knew he loved you, but it’s pretty hard to believe that when he’s leaving you.

He promised he'd stay with you, he promised , and Finnick doesn't break his promises. Not with you. No. Not after everything you've been through together. You only have each other. 

The paper falls from your trembling hands to the desk. 

No . You only have Finnick. But, Finnick—he doesn't want you anymore, right? So, where does that leave you? What else do you have? 

A grandfather clock ticks in the background, though it sounds muted to your ears. 

You look down at the paper and find wet spots, ink more smeared than it was before. Your cheeks are wet. Are you crying?

Stupid. You wipe at your cheeks roughly—angrier at yourself than you are at him. There are a million and one reasons this could have happened and they all begin and end with you. You have no one to blame but yourself.

You know what it feels like for your body to break. What it feels like to be drained down to your skin, nerves, muscles, and bones. You've come eerily close to knowing what it feels like to have your mind broken. 

But this is new. This is what it feels like to have your heart broken. It's sudden, and it rips you apart on its way in. Not an arrow, but a knife. Quicker than you thought it'd be, but it hurts just the same. 

You’re so cold. You don't think you've ever been this cold before. Not even when you were nine and you got such bad hyperthermia that you couldn’t work for the rest of the winter. He always ran hot, you think distantly. And all his warmth has left you. 

You hold on to yourself because no one else will. You would have preferred your body breaking. At least that heals. 

“I can’t,” you weep, stuttering over betrayal and loss, “I can’t do this on my own.”

You press your forehead into the desk, your body shaking with the sobs you’re holding back. It hurts so bad. Pain sitting rooted in your chest, sharp and rigid like a peach pit. Your heart doesn’t beat, it throbs . Throbs like a festering wound, irritated and infected. 

You pull at your shirt and dig your nails into your chest. Maybe if you press hard enough through the skin and fascia and muscles you could pull out the problem.

But that’s impossible. There’s nothing there. It’s the absence that hurts, that gaping Finnick-shaped hole. You wanted to give him your heart, but not like this.

Did you get ahead of yourself? Thinking anything could last with someone who shines as bright as him? Maybe…maybe if you were a little more like him, if you shined just as bright. 

You scoff. 

You’re not a star, you’re not even the moon. How can the sun love the same darkness it chases away?

He described the ocean to you once. Vast and endless, like it could go on forever. And he told you about all the people who get lost at sea. Now you’re one of them. 

You have capsized, water rushing up past your neck and into your mouth and nose, just as salty as your tears. Your lungs burn from the lack of air, you can’t breathe and no one will come for you because you're as good as dead.

Here you sit in your study in your home that isn’t really yours, far away from any ocean, but you're drowning anyway. 

You drown and you drown and you drown and you do it alone.

Present (X) - Finnick 

[23 & 24] - THE CAPITOL

It’s a last resort, a unanimous choice between them all. A wordless decision that the victors made to appeal to the Capitol citizens. Though they’re all using different means, it’s all for the same result. That’s what Finnick has to remind himself when he’s called on stage after Beetee. 

The crowd screams at his entrance and he locks his hands behind his back. He smiles while nodding to his adoring fans as he stands beside Caesar.

“Finnick, I understand that you have a message for somebody out there. A special somebody.” The crowd hoots and hollers at the dramatics of it all and the idea of one of them being the special someone close to his heart. He chuckles and looks down. The Capitols being painfully predictable is finally paying off. All according to plan. “Can we hear it?”

He could spew some generic flowery shit that could apply to literally anyone he’s come in contact with, but…

He looks at the camera. There will be fourteen victors coming up to perform before you, so you should still be in your dressing room. Are you watching? Watching him?

"My love, my star . My heart is yours. And…and if I had to pick a place to die, it would be in the warmth of your arms. Your smile, the last thing I see and your lips, the last thing I taste. Everything I have ever done, I have done for you.”

Caesar pouts at the audience as they coo at his love letter and he wishes they never heard it. He wishes he could have said it to you directly. Those words, they’re yours and they should have been for your ears only. And, yet, here he is, relaying his heart to you through a screen. Look how far we’ve fallen, Star. 

“Oh, my. That’s very touching, Finnick. Isn’t it? I’m sure whoever it is, is listening and feeling truly loved.” 

“I hope you’re right, Caesar.”

They allowed Mags to opt out of her interview on account of her not being able to speak. How kind , he scoffs. And as he settles on the raised platform beside her, he briefly squeezes her hand. 

You okay? He mouths and she nods with a smile. 

One by one, each victor comes with their own approach to sway the masses. Oh, he knows there's no way they'll be canceling the games. Finnick is more likely to drain the ocean with a teaspoon before Snow even considers stopping this cruelty. But it’s worth a shot, he supposes. It can’t possibly make going into the arena any worse.

Besides Johanna's impassioned speech, nothing the other victors do stands out to him. Then, you're called out.  

He sinks his teeth into his lip as the audience applauds at your entrance.

From what he can recall, your outfit is a remix of the dress you wore in your first interview as if it has aged and matured with you. It’s gained a long train and the hip-high thigh slits that your stylist is known for.

You blow kisses to the crowd and they, understandably, go wild. You turn to Caesar with a smile and the overhead lights shine on you, painting your skin in soft lighting like a blanket. He takes a breath. And another, until he notices he’s breathing in sync with you.

He blinks when the crowd breaks into raucous laughter and he realizes he’s missed something.

"Oh, we all know just how shy you are." Caesar smiles, holding his laugh behind clenched teeth in that way of his that reminds Finnick of an overachieving beaver. The crowd laughs with him and your cheeks must hurt from holding that coy smile. "Now, the last time we talked, you said you were composing a new piece." Caesar pulls a violin out from…somewhere behind him and presents it to you like a gift. Finnick doesn’t know what he was expecting, but he didn’t think you’d use the violin as your strategy. Mostly because of how much you hate it. Or maybe you don’t anymore. Maybe you’ve grown to love it and he’s none the wiser. “Can you play it for us now?" The crowd clamors in ooohs and ahhhs at the idea. It has always been a privilege to hear you play. Finnick watches your face closely.

It wasn't your favorite thing to do, by far, but you took to it like a fish to water. Usually, Snow would have you play at the more "personal" get-togethers. But every once in a while, you would compose a song for Finnick . And when it was just the two of you, you'd share it with him. He'd sit in front of you in awe as you played. He doesn't have a musical bone in his body, but he can hum every piece from memory. 

“You’re kind of putting me on the spot here, but, sure. I would love to play it for you all.” You laugh. You place the instrument under your chin and position your fingers and bow.

And you play .

It's not showy like the pieces you usually play for the public. Not grand or performative, but soft and soulful. Melancholy. It feels nostalgic almost, like something you would write for him. 

The haunting melody carries throughout the silent room as if everyone is breathing with the lilting notes. Everyone but Finnick—who holds his breath. 

He looks down, squeezing his eyes shut, nose scrunching as he fights back tears. Because as much as you may hate the instrument, you play it as if it's an extension of your body. And you've always been better at showing how you feel than saying it. 

It sounds like a goodbye. 

You come to a stop and Finnick's lungs stop constricting with your movements.

When you finish, it’s quiet before Caesar clears his throat and gives you a small smile that almost looks genuine.

“That was marvelous , my dear. Truly moving—wasn’t that moving?” He asks the audience, and Finnick will be surprised if there’s a dry eye in the crowd. Even their applause sounds sad. 

“Thank you, Caesar.” You nod at the praise. “You taught me so much—all of you. If I had known this would be the last time I got to play for you—” You trail off into a sob and the crowd coos. The words may be fake, but he isn’t too sure about the tears. He wonders if you think you won’t make it out of the arena alive—not that he would let that happen. If he could just talk to you, and have an actual conversation, he could know what you’re thinking.

Caesar pats your lower back and Finnick’s eyes narrow. “And you played beautifully.”

You hand the violin back with a watery smile and, fake or not, Finnick hates to see you cry. 

You’re met with a standing ovation as you climb to your place on the platform. With the way the victors are positioned, he stands directly behind you. Or, well, strictly speaking, he’s more diagonal than directly behind you. Still, how lucky is he? He could, theoretically, lean forward and catch a whiff of your perfume—

He gathers himself, straightening up and lacing his fingers behind his back. He squeezes the space between his thumb and forefinger.

Katniss spins and her wedding dress transforms in a flurry of fire before their eyes. 

“Again with the fire.” He mutters under his breath.

The crowd is in awe as she spreads her wings, but he isn’t so easily cowed. Though, he might not be the target audience. Finnick’s never been particularly fond of birds, even if they are mockingjays.

"You know Katniss and I, we've been luckier than most. And I wouldn't have any regrets at all if it weren't…if—" Peeta stops himself, glancing around nervously.

"If it weren't for what? What?"

“If it weren’t for the baby.”

Now, that catches his attention. Gasps echo throughout the room at Peeta’s revelation. Finnick’s eyebrows almost touch his hairline with how high they raise. Caesar tries to do damage control, but the situation is quickly escalating. 

“Call off the games!”

“This is cruel!”

He purses his lips around a growing smile, but he can’t hide it for long when the crowd starts shouting. That’s…that’s certainly one way to get the audience riled up. He catches the slight smirk on Peeta’s face as he watches the commotion he caused and Finnick’s a little jealous. 

Chaos unfurls in a way he never thought the Capitols were capable of. They’ve always been so docile; sheep shepherded into any direction Snow leads them. But it makes sense. The romance act was meant to fool the Capitol and fool them it has. He hides the vindictive glee he feels at the riot breaking out in the name of the victors, but only barely. He would kill to see Snow's face right now. 

How does it feel, he wonders, to see your people rebel in support of the savages you tried to paint us out to be?

He looks over, brows furrowed, as Mags takes his hand with a proud smile and he glances down in time to see you take Chaff’s hand. He pauses for a moment before taking the hand the woman from Five offers him. In sync, the victors all raise their hands in a show of solidarity. 

“Stop the games!”

“Call them off!”

Finnick grins big at the mayhem unfolding before him and they keep shouting long after the lights cut out.

Present (X) - You & Finnick

[23 & 24 ] - THE CAPITOL

“Star!”

It didn't take long for the tributes to be escorted off the platforms and as he chases after you, Finnick realizes that he vastly underestimated just how many people stood between you and him. He isn't sure if he's too far away for you to hear or if you’re actively ignoring him.

”Star!” Finnick pushes through the crowd of victors and stage crew to get closer. Chaff glances at him and now he knows for sure that you’re ignoring him.

“Stubborn.” He mutters as some of his fellow victors let him pass, glancing at him before continuing their conversations. But, as he’s said before, he’s just as stubborn as you. He racks his brain for something that’ll catch your attention before he loses what might be his last chance with you. “ The message was for you! ”

You pause at the entrance of the elevator at Finnick's shout. You're so close to getting away, so close. Your escape is a hair's breadth and a footstep away, but you remember how you felt sitting in your dressing room watching Finnick's interview. Was there a pang of jealousy over the possibility of the message being for someone else? God , it couldn't even be categorized as jealousy. 

You look over your shoulder and his lungs stop constricting. He’s got you. Now, for the hardest part: keeping you.

There are dozens of eyes on him, people milling around as if they aren’t honed in on whatever this is. He can’t blame them for being curious, he’s a little confused himself. He went into this with no plan, not that he would have been able to stick to one with how you’re looking at him.

“What?” The lingering crowd fully parts for him as he approaches, and you regard the gathering audience warily. 

“What I said, the message—it was for you.” He repeats. 

He can’t afford to be coy, that hasn't worked the last dozen times he's attempted a conversation with you and it definitely won't work now. He knows if he doesn’t catch you now, there won’t be any more chances.

Peeta dropped a baby bomb, and, somehow, this is the most dramatic thing to happen tonight. His eyes are locked intently on you, either unaware of all the attention he’s captured or just uncaring.

You look over to Chaff for some kind of help and he smirks at your growing embarrassment. You watch in disbelief as he walks away using the excuse of finding Seeder to escape. 

“Finnick, this isn’t the time.” You glance between him and the floor, tracing the threading in his boots instead of the desperation in his eyes. 

"Can you please just,” he shifts his weight on his feet, "can you look at me, Star? Please, just look at me." He lifts his hand like he aims to reach out to you, but hesitates. 

This situation is developing into something far more intimate than your current company should allow. More intimate than you should allow. You can always just walk away, turn your back to him and get on one of the idle elevators—let it end here once and for all. The only thing stopping you would be the completely unfounded guilt. 

You don't owe him anything, let alone your time. 

And, yet. 

Maybe you can get some kind of closure and set clear boundaries before you go into the arena—and that reasoning sounds weak even to you.

Both of you could die tomorrow and truthfully, you don't want to walk away from him; you've never wanted to.

Besides, it's not like he can hurt you any worse than he already has. 

Finnick jolts when he feels your hand wrap around his wrist, a sensation he should be accustomed to but has grown foreign. 

You pull him aside away from eavesdropping ears, but not from nosey eyes. You feel like a spectacle, with how front and center Finnick has made this, but when haven't you?

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” You question him in a harsh whisper. “I don’t know what this is or what you think this is, but it is not the place for it. What if this gets back to Snow—”

“I don’t care.”

“—There’s already so much…what?”

“I don’t care.” He shakes his head, and for once, he’s not lying. “I don’t care if they hear us, or—or if this gets back to Snow.”

Your jaw shifts as you narrow your eyes up at him and there’s that anger he’s been expecting.

“Please, Star. Just…just let me speak.” He begs. Your face goes blank, a mask slotting into place like a lock with a key that Finnick has long since lost the right to. He blocks out the chatter around him. 

“Not here.” For a moment, he thinks he’s being rejected until you grab his wrist and drag him behind you. The elevators are filling in droves and you just so happen to pick the one housing some of the last people he wants to witness this. 

Haymitch takes one look at your faces and the grip you have on his wrist and raises his hands in defense. 

Haymitch turns to Katniss and Peeta. “Nuh-uh, believe me. You do not wanna be locked in here with them.” He shakes his head and steps out without a backward glance and you contemplate going with him. “I’ll meet you guys up there.”

Johanna steps on in his place, elevator doors closing behind her. She looks between the four of you and whistles. Finnick sighs.

“There’s the happy couple.” You glance at Peeta and Katniss because she certainly isn’t talking about the two of you. “You caused quite the stir out there. Why didn’t you tell us you were expecting? We could have thrown you a baby shower.” You sigh through your nose. You don’t even have it in you to intervene in this conversation.

“What the hell is a baby shower—”

“We didn’t know how everyone would take it.” Peeta cuts Katniss off. “We’re already the newest victors. The baby might’ve painted an even bigger target on our backs.” He says without stuttering once.

“That’s a fantastic answer, Peeta.” Johanna crows sarcastically. “Did Haymitch prep you on that one or did you come up with it on your own?”

“No. No, it’s all me.” He assures with a downward smile. It certainly is all him. He’s the mastermind behind all of this, right? Ironically enough, Finnick doubts Katniss had any real part in making this ‘baby scandal’.

Finnick opens his mouth to make a quip but thinks better of it. You’re already aggravated at his presence and he honestly doesn’t want to remind you that he’s here. His only consolation is that you’re still holding his wrist, all five pads of your fingers are searing points on his skin.

Peeta gives you an imploring look, eyebrows raised as if to ask if you’re alright and you nod and—when did that happen?

It’s quiet, with no other sound than the nearly inaudible woosh of the elevator going between floors. No one makes an effort to break the steadily growing awkward silence. Finnick does, however, make the mistake of making eye contact with Johanna. She mouths you’re dead at him over your head and, yeah, that definitely fills him with much-needed confidence. 

Present (X) - Finnick

[21 & 22] -  THE CAPITOL; TRAINING CENTER; ELEVENTH FLOOR

“Alright. You wanted to speak.” Your dress flutters around your legs as you settle into a big green chair. That same giant green chair you sat in three years prior. You’ve both grown considerably since then. Just in two completely different directions. What a juxtaposition. “Speak.” 

He stays where he’s standing a couple of feet away. He probably should have figured out what to do on the elevator ride, but, again, he’s without a plan. “Did you hear my message? When I was up there with Caesar? I know you were still getting ready—did you hear it?”

“I might’ve.” You shrug and cross your arms, still so stubborn. “Great strategy by the way. I’m sure you’ll reel in plenty of sponsors.”

“God, Star, it wasn’t for them. It wasn’t even for the fucking movement.” You raise a brow at his words but give no further outward reaction. He moves to stand before you, each step more unsure than the last. Your glare is scorching, but there’s been enough space between the two of you to house the sun. “Do you remember when you said my poetry was a gift? And—and that I shouldn’t waste it on them? You said you would never be tired of anything I do. Do you remember that night? What I said?” He implores. It was a special night full of promises and you gave him more than he deserved.

You look him over with a critical eye long enough that he’s sure you’re just not going to answer. Especially when you turn to stare off to the side before sighing out of your nose.

“My heart, who am I to deprive you of what's yours by right? The air in my lungs, I breathe for you. The blood in my veins pumps for you. A leaf can’t stop itself from falling and neither could I. Everything I do, I do for you.” It only takes him half a second to recognize the lines and he’s stunned, transported back to that garden under the stars. “I remember all of them…I remember everything you’ve made for me.” You give him fleeting peripheral glances and avoid his gaze like you’re ashamed of that. 

He nods, frantic and eager. He’s making headway. He honestly didn’t think you’d let him get this far. Your eyes widen when he drops down into a kneel before you smooth your face into a blank mask. “They’re all yours. And they’ll keep being yours even if you still hate me when I leave this room. Everything I’ve written since I met you has been for you.’’ He confesses, hands moving to grip the arms of your chair, but is it really a confession? The Capitols love his poetry because they adore the idea of Finnick Odair being devoted to them, longing for them and, for that, you’ve always been his inspiration. 

You stare down at him, giving no indication that anything he’s said has swayed you. He grits his teeth through the sting of rejection and sighs, arms falling to his sides.

“I can’t tell you how sorry—”

“Why now?” You cut him off. “It’s been two years. You don’t owe me anything, Finnick, so if this a guilt thing—”

“I–It’s not. I mean, it is, but it’s not…it’s not why I’m here.” He sits back on his haunches, running a hand through his hair. “We could die tomorrow. And I don’t want you going into that arena thinking that I don’t love you or…or that I wanted to leave you.”

You squint at him, face twisting into a sour scowl.

“You said,” you drawl, slow and drawn out like you’re explaining something fundamental to a child, “you thought it was best if we ended it.”

He shakes his head. “I lied. I had to and I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I know I hurt you and I know saying sorry won’t be enough, but please know sending that letter was the last thing I wanted to do. Leaving you was the last thing I wanted to do.”

“What? What are you talking about? You said—”

He holds his hands up, stopping your completely warranted stream of questions.

“I know. I know what I said and I never would have said it if Snow hadn’t shown up at my house—”

“Snow showed up at your house?” Your arms unfold and you lean forward so suddenly that he almost flinches back. “When?” 

“Uh, a few weeks before I sent the letter. He’s the only reason I even sent it.” He scoffs, remembering the state he was left in after Snow offered the ultimatum. He doesn’t need to try to remember the words written in the letter he sent you because he’s never forgotten. They’re tattooed on the back of his eyelids, seared into his memory every time he blinks.

“What did he want? What did he say to make you…” He watches you try to articulate your confusion. What led to this ? What could have possibly been worth giving you up? 

“Snow he–he was convinced that our relationship would somehow lead to—civil unrest. His solution was to get rid of one of us, get rid of you . I couldn’t let that happen. He never explicitly said it, but you know how he is, how he speaks …I was scared. I was. I didn’t—” His voice cracks and you stare down at him with stunned, wide eyes. He wants to shuffle closer. He wants to sway into you and take some kind of comfort. But he doesn’t. “I didn’t know what to do and I couldn’t just tell you because you would have tried to find some kind of loophole and we couldn’t afford to make him more hostile than he already was.”

You look to your left out of the wall-length windows and smirk, completely throwing Finnick off. 

"Star?"

You stand. He watches as you pace the length of the room before turning on your heel and walking onto the balcony. He can do nothing more than follow you. 

“He came to my house too, you know. Around the same time, I think. He wanted to remind me about how privileged I am.” You snort and that sick feeling is developing in his stomach, organs twisting to make room for the settling dread. He isn’t sure what he thought you’d do in light of the revelation, what he expected you to say, but it’s not this. “Went on about how thankful I should be that he was allowing us to be in a relationship and…and that as long as I kept myself in line, I could keep you.” You sigh, propping your elbows on the railing and placing your face in your hands.

He doesn’t know what to do. Speechless doesn’t even cover it. His anger is there, and he doesn’t see that ever leaving him...but he’s been angry for so long and he’s been tired for even longer.

“We played right into his hand, Finnick. He gained something from this, bastard that he is.” You scoff. You turn and sit with your back against the glass railing. "That's all that matters to him."

Finnick stews on it and many things are starting to make sense. In the months leading up to the event, the two of you started seeing each other less and less. Long periods where all he had was your perfume and words to keep him company. And considering Snow was the only way either of you were allowed to come to the Capitol…Of course. It all seems so fucking obvious now .

"I should have known better. Snow was never gonna kill you, he's too fucking— God .” He stops and shakes his head. All of the lost time, the unnecessary pain. 

“Come sit down, Finn.”

Finn. 

He hasn't been called that in a long time. He takes a second to stare unseeingly at the stars before sliding down beside you.

It's quiet. He doesn't know what to say, doesn't know if there's anything he should say, and he's sure you feel the same. But he does know if it was up to you, you'd both sit in silence for the foreseeable future and he has two years' worth of confessions to make. 

“The mo—” he stops, overwhelmed by how much he wants to say, but nothing feels good enough, “I loved you the moment you laughed at my stupid joke the first time we danced together and I have loved you ever since. Even when I wasn’t there to show you, even when I—I left you. I’ve loved you the entire way, Star. There are billions of suns out there, billions of universes, and I love you in every one.”

Your head whips up.

“I remember everything you’ve made for me too.” Your mouth twists, brows furrowing as you stare at him and he can’t express in words how good it feels to be seen.

"I don’t hate you.” You shrug a shoulder, smiling small and quick. “You said ‘even if you still hate me’, I don’t hate you.”

“...You don’t?” 

“I tried to. For a while, I thought I did." He shouldn’t be surprised by that. He shouldn’t be hurt by something he explicitly told you to do in his letter. Finnick shouldn’t be a lot of things that he is. “But I just… couldn’t . I didn’t even want to, after a while. I was just tired.”

His head thumps against the railing. He closes his eyes. There's a question on his tongue, an answer he shouldn't need but wants regardless. 

“Is that why you stopped sending letters?” When he opens his eyes again, he’s relieved by the fact that you’re still facing him.

Your face twists like you’ve tasted something sour, something rotten. “I just…I was fine waiting for you, Finnick. It was hard, but it didn’t hurt. Not too bad, at least. I would’ve waited a thousand years because it would have been worth it to hold you for a second. And I could get through that because I knew you were waiting for me too. But, I realized you were never coming. And, eventually, I realized…you weren’t waiting either." You whisper, wrapping your arms around your legs as you pull your knees up. He stiffens, freezing in place as he tries to slow his heartbeat. 

He drops his head, brows furrowed as he tries, and fails, to stop tears from forming. It's just, it's cruel . The one thing he promised himself he'd never do—leave you, hurt you—he had to do for you. 

He wipes his face, pressing the base of his palms into his eyes. 

"Star, I…I would never…It killed me to write that letter, you have to know that, right? Right ?" He implores, voice rough while his breath hitches repeatedly. His throat feels tight and swollen as he stutters over the words in his chest. The words you have to hear, the words he needs you to hear. You stare forward, refusing to look at him anymore and he turns to face you full-on, refusing to look at anything but you. "How can I let you know that? What can I do—to prove—that I'm sorry ?"

He thought you both had changed, changed too much to be fluent in what you two used to have. He thought it was a different language, but here, up close, he can see that it’s not so much a new language as it is a cipher. You just had to let him get close enough to understand again. He had always thought you had such an open face, it was a wonder to him how you were able to lie so eloquently when you could never lie to him. But it wasn’t until he was shut out that he realized you were letting him read you, subconsciously or otherwise. He reads you now, eyes tracing your face eagerly—hungrily, and finds…remorse?

"I know you’re sorry. I know. And logically, knowing the truth should make it easier to get over it.” Your mouth opens and closes, hesitating. “But you left me." He nods hard enough to hurt his neck. "I did." And he's sorry, he's sorry, he's so sorry. He doesn't think there's enough air on the planet for him to tell you just how sorry he is. "You left me, Finnick. I know it isn’t rational to feel this way knowing you didn’t want to, but…” You lick your lips, resting your cheek on your knee. When you look up at him, actually look at him and not somewhere over his shoulder, the glossy state of your eyes has him digging his nails into his hands to ground himself. "It’s just—it’s more than a little hard to dissociate you from that hurt." I’d take that hurt from you if I could, he thinks. I’d grit my teeth through the pain and wear it proudly if it meant you’d have a moment of relief. He doesn’t say any of that. Instead, he says, "I'm sorry, Star." Because, really, what else is there to say? There’s no way to describe everything he’s sorry for.

"...I'm sorry too." You say and he wants to tell you there’s nothing to apologize to him about, but you lock your pinky with his and it’s entirely unexpected and truly enough to make his throat tighten, and all he can manage is a wistful sigh at the feeling of coming home.

Far below them, the sound of the city is dampened by the distance but no less heard. He goes to speak but spots a flash of blue out of the corner of his eye. It’s your ankle. Or specifically, what’s on your ankle.

“You wore it?” He asks, touching the fraternal twin of his own bracelet. He appraises what he thought was lost reverently. Tracing the grooves of the shells, the divets in the charms, the rough twine of the rope—it all feels like a live wire under his fingers.

“I never took it off.” You slip your heel off, loosening the straps of the bracelet and wiggling it down your foot. “I just thought it might be a little sad to parade it around when you didn’t want me.”

“There will never be a moment on this Earth of me not wanting you, not while I still have air in my lungs. Not even after.” 

“And how’ll you manage that?” You ask, your eyes crinkling in that old mirth you used to wear around him like a beauty mark.

“For you? I’ll find a way.” He promises.

You hum, appraising the jewelry for a second before passing it to him. He can’t help but smile when you lift your hand, silently prompting him. He places the bracelet on you, tightening it on your wrist. It feels like muscle memory when he lifts your hand to place a kiss on the center shell.

The corner of your mouth twitches up and you nod. “Okay.”

He leans in, placing a hand on the base of your neck and pulling you towards him and he’s still in awe that you actually let him. He holds the back of your head as you bury your face in his chest, wrapping your arms around his slender waist. 

"I'm not asking for forgiveness, it wouldn’t be fair to.” He murmurs into the crown of your hair. “But after we do this, I want the chance to make it up to you." He'll spend the rest of his life mending what he tore apart if you let him.

“I think…I’d like that.” You speak into his chest and he feels your voice more than he hears it. “It was for you too.”

“What was?”

“The song I played onstage. I wrote it after it all happened. Honestly, I couldn’t touch the violin without thinking of you, Finn. You were the only person I ever wanted to play for.” You whisper and it feels like he’s been punched in the stomach. Finnick’s taken by the sudden need to look in your eyes more than anything, to see and know you and be seen and known in return. He pulls back enough to look down at you.

“ Star .” He begs you beseechingly, and there’s no hesitation when you look up at him and he grins. It feels like it’s been years. “There you are.”

You smile. It's small and heavier than he remembers, but it's there and he is as whole as he will ever be.

A/N: IMAGINE POURING YOUR HEART OUT AND EXPRESSING HEARTFELT INTIMACY TO THE LOVE OF YOUR LIFE JUST TO GET DUMPED yeesh. fun fact: "...but if you only dug a little deeper you’d find your picture framed and hanging along the walls of my soul." I actually texted this to my beta reader about Finn from Adventure Time after seeing an edit bc I love him so much, but then I converted it into Finnick love. also, Finnick's letter was one of the first things I wrote for this story months ago. That balcony talk was inspired by Hozier's Unknown/Nth WE IN THE ARENA NEXT CHAPPY

#3d wifey talks #3d wifey answers #finnick odair x reader #hunger games catching fire #finnick odair #and they'd find us in a week #finnick #finnick odair fanfic #catching fire #the hunger games x reader #hunger games smut #hunger games fanfiction #finnick fanfic #thg finnick #finnick x reader #finnick x you #finnick imagine #hunger games finnick #the hunger games

[liyawritesss]

ᴍɪʟᴇꜱ ᴍᴏʀᴀʟᴇꜱ [ꜱᴘɪᴅᴇʀ-ᴍᴀɴ] ʜᴇᴀᴅᴄᴀɴᴏɴꜱ

Characters: Spider-Verse!Miles Morales [Spider-Man]

Type: headcanons

Synopsis: general thoughts and headcanons for everyone's favorite afro-latino spiderman!

Warnings: some cursing but overall no warnings. KEEP IT CUTE AND PG-16 CUZ THIS IS STILL NEPHEW WE TALKIN BOUT HERE!!!

A/N: went to see atsv and i’m absolutely floored by that movie…it’s definitely giving me new material to write abt and a new hyperfixation so buckle up yall cuz the next few posts are gonna be all spiderman related!!

Tags: @6-noir @babyboiboyega @badass-dora-milaje @jacuzziwaters @venusdraco @mbakuetshurisprincess @shuriszn @verachii @writingintheshadowsforever @cafehyunji @lulu-network @niyahwrites @pantherheart @marsfunzon22

Sign Up For My Taglist Here!

First off I wanna say this is my SON, and on everything i love i will throw hands over him, if anybody wanna try it prepare to be demolished cuz I will NOT spare you. This is a lil boy ion wanna see none of yall sniffin around him period. I will gladly held you find your mind if you wanna lose it today!!!

Okay, no that that spiel is over, we’ve got some headcanons to address about everyone's favorite afro-latino spiderman

He’s so precious. Idc if you know already I’m telling you again, he is the most precious thing in the world. He has a heart of gold and wears it on his sleeve, he’s always looking out for people and wants to see the best in everything and everyone. Which, while it is a good characteristic to have, can sometimes put him in tough situations, and sometimes it doesn’t end well.

He’s such a momma’s boy, but like the good momma’s boy where he adapts the things Rio teaches him and repays her by being a good filial son, even though he’s growing up and wanting to branch out. If he’s having emotional trouble, he’ll come to her to try and figure out how to express himself and understand how he’s feeling. On special occasions, or just when he notices her mood is off, Miles will conspire with his dad to do something small but special for his mom, like make breakfast or drop off flowers at her work. She’s always super appreciative of it too

Waking up for him is hell in the morning, because he is not a morning person at all. It’s worse if he went on patrol the night before (which, 9/10, he has) and he almost always sleeps through his alarm. He’s the type to have to have several alarms set to get up up, because otherwise he will sleep through the day

Similarly, Miles also finds it hard for him to sleep most nights. In the beginning of his career being Spiderman he would almost never go to sleep really. Even the trick of using nyquil or melatonin gummies didn’t work because his mind was always on one hundred, thinking about everything and nothing all at once. Though as he meets friends he can confide in and grows older he learns how to manage that kind of stress, which makes it easier to sleep. Though the insomnia never truly leaves him unfortunately, and its something he has to take with him for the rest of his life

Despite his introverted self, and the fact that he tends to want to keep to himself more often than not, Miles is actually very easy to talk to and if given the time and patience, great at making friends. He’s awkward at first because he wants to measure his interactions based on the vibe of the person he’s talking to, but you will find a hardcore loyal and caring friend in Miles.

So emotionally aware that it almost hurts. He’ll be upset and know why he’s upset, but sometimes wishes he didn’t know because in some situations he may not think his emotions are valid. And because he’s such an intentional person and a hyper empath, everything he feels is multiplied by ten. So if you fuck him over, he’s probably more upset about it than you’ll ever be if you were upset at fucking him over, if that makes sense?

He’s a cuddle-bug and nothing will change my mind about it! He had hella teddy bears as a little boy and would get upset if Rio took them to be washed because he was afraid he wouldn’t see them again. For no reason in particular he’s slowly dissipated his teddy bear collection and now uses a very fluffy body pillow to hold on to as he sleeps. Sometimes if he’s sick or just very down in the dumps and Rio notices, she’ll climb into bed with him for a while and comfort him

A decent cook actually as well! He was always in the kitchen when his mom and his tia’s came over to cook so he knows how to throw down in the kitchen a lil bit. His favorite thing to make is tamales because while the process may be tedious, it allows him to unwind and clear his mind while focusing on the preparation of them.

Miles’ is the type that when he goes into the store he will always, without fail, buy a new notebook/sketchpad. He may not even need it, he may already have like ten new ones he has yet to break in, but he always likes to stay prepared for when his current one runs out. He also likes to alternate between them or dedicate certain notebooks to certain muses or drawing preferences

Will squeak out of surprise and say something in spanish if he’s startled or scared. And I’m talking like a girlish squeak and it's so cute but he’d be so embarrassed, cuz why did you have to sneak up on him like that? He was doing perfectly fine til you wanted to give him a heart attack.

On the topic of spanish, he isn’t that confident in it so he doesn’t really like to speak it if its not with his family, because he just knows he’s gonna fuck it up. So if he feels like there's pressure in a conversation where he knows he’s going to have to speak it at some point, he’ll try to back out before that happens

Miles gets so fascinated with things all the time. It happens mostly when he’s either strolling through the neighborhood or he’s on patrol. Definitely checks himself out in the glass of skyscrapers…then promptly remembers that there are people behind said glass that can see him and hurriedly swings off. And if a new pair of Jordans have been teased? Best believe he’s doing all the chores and buttering up his parents so that he can get them as soon as they drop

Speaking of Jordans; this boy is such a sneakerhead it’s insane. His dorm room AND his room at home are full of shoe boxes he has yet to style with some clothes. Keeps telling his parents “I’ma wear ‘em, I’ma wear ‘em!” but he never has the time to cuz he’s too preoccupied with being a good student and Spiderman to prioritize style over comfort (even tho he do still be fresh n clean)

He’s also the best bestie to have. Texts you tiktoks, checks in on you at seemingly always the right time. If you go to school together then you know you’re hanging out after classes. And if you need help in the sciences, Miles is the best tutor ever. And his family loves you, so birthdays, christmas and other holidays, if you’re not already celebrating with your folks, if you don’t fuck with them like that, or if you don’t have a real family, he’s inviting you over his place all the time so that you never have to feel alone.

If you enjoyed, please leave a like, comment, and reblog for others to see! And don’t be shy to send in a request!

#black reader #black tumblr #black marvel #marvel #mcu #marvel x reader #marvel x black!reader #mcu x reader #mcu x black!reader #spiderman #spiderman miles morales #spiderman into the spiderverse #spiderman itsv #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman atsv #spiderman beyond the spiderverse #spiderman btsv #miles morales spider man #miles morales #miles morales x reader #miles morales x black!reader

[i-got-the-feels]

Blorbos From BL That Will Make Me Protect Them At EVERY FUCKING COST

Hey hey lovely @my-rose-tinted-glasses for the tag. I am afraid my list will be repetitive leaving few exceptions

1) Ida and Aoki from kieta hatsukoi

Aoki asking to be Cinderella because he knew she would be nervous? Ida saying he needs time before rejecting him?? BABIES

2) Kinn Theerapanyakul from Kinnporsche

No one is surprised.

Look at him! Look at how he adores Porsche! The softness!!!!!

3) Pat and Pran from Bad Buddy

Their parents are trash. They didn't let that be an excuse for their behavior. Learned and accepted their mistakes. Worked on themselves. Need I say more?

4) Akk from the Eclipse

Burden of guilt and burden of responsibility in conflict, yet he keeps his kindness.

No wonder most my eclipse sets are akk centered if anyone is curious (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6)

5) Palm and Nueng from Never let me go

Do you see a common theme of sense of responsibility burdening my blorbos? Kinn. Akk. Pat. Pran.

Great. Because chances are you will see more of it.

Another show where I used my writings for edits - like I made 15 sets with my writings. Here is the link if yall were curious - nlmg edits with my writing

6) Seojoon from to my star

He is a puppy. I don't need to say more

7) Kurosawa and Adachi

The kindness. The Openness. The honesty. The acceptance. People like them are rare in real life.

8) black from not me

HE WAS DONE SO DIRTY. I don't mean the romance but even by writers. Like his friends just moved on? Oh it's his twin white? Nothing like "oh my gosh you were in coma, are you okay?" NOTHING? even after he LEFT???

9) Mhok

I am done with people judging him. I am ready to throw hands.

10) oh aew from I told sunset about you and I promise you the moon

His pure heart needs to be protected

Honorable mentions

I didn't include these 6 characters 4 - being tinn and gun and heart and li ming - because they are kids and kids just naturally bring out the protective side in me.

2 because they aren't from gay shows but need to be mentioned because I will fight for them whenever

1) Jae on from nevertheless. Yep. I k people call him red flag BUT THEY NOTH WHERE. And he wasn't a read flag. He never made any promises or commitments and was upfront.

2) baek yijin - the more the time passes since the last episode aired, the more I am convinced the post credit scene was unnecessary and cruel. He deserved to be happier than he was.

Tagging @chinzhilla @sandrayy @celestial-sapphicss @snimeat @smittenskitten @morkofday @dimpledpran @moonkhao and anyone who wants to do it really :)

#Tag game #Sorry for the rant rosy

[wannaeatramyeon]

You really said that you don't have any plans of writing any other series and then dropped this ✨masterpiece✨ (⁠◍⁠•⁠ᴗ⁠•⁠◍⁠)⁠✧⁠*⁠。

BISHHHH! IT WAS SOOOO GOOD. I WAS SKEPTICAL AT FIRST BUT THEN AGAIN IT WAS YOU WRITING. I LOVED IT 💜💜💜

also can I be 🕊️ anon?

Hope yall don't mind me responding to these in one go. Also please note my anon tagging is terrible but I do remember all my anons! I think I'll probably do this batch format moving forward? I SUCK at conversations through the inbox but also a) don't want to be rude 😅 and b) clog up people's dash.

+ Tip - filter 'ramen asks' tags in your settings if you're just here for the fics.

Non fic-request asks answered: 7 (you might want to check if your asks are here anons!)

🕊️ anon! Thank you for reading! You are being much too kind. I really had no plans to write anything long and uh... the nthis happened. It's ALWAYS good to have a healthy dose of skepticism though haha. I. I just. Idk how I feel about my longer fics at all but I'm glad you're enjoying them!

Anon?! Ah that's so sweet to say and I'm glad my fics are accessible for you!I don't struggle so much with focusing, but there are some formats and fonts that I really find difficult to read. Give me a shout especially with regards to format/font side if things ever deviate with my writing and I'll try to correct it!

Goo brainrot anon, you know who you are with your exquisite taste 🫶

And on my other response that Goo brings out our feral sides, and imo also has the most feral simps... Would be hilarious to watch you guys in a cagematch for Goo's affection. And you KNOW he would love that. 2A style.

I'm sorry this is actually our sweet Ying's/@mymxnfgh hc which you can read here. I don't want to just steam roll ahead with her idea especially if she reads HTF! Hope you understand.

Babe, I'm completely with you. I wrote this about Eli but really to go on about WTF is happening with his character and plot. Fuck 5A man.

Answering this like... a month late but we're still waiting lol. YES THE ADIDAS SAMBAS! I saw the theory too. I'm not 100% sure if Jake fits but I will just take whatever crumbs of my No.1 green flag PTJ will give!

Anon I am so so sorry for my super late response. Have you watched the PTJ video from a while ago where he talks about Samuel's charming chest? I think you may like that.

Anon, your opinion on Vasco is perfectly valid AND CORRECT. Altho our lil cinnamonroll is at least getting a personality lately so I can't be too mad.

#a reminder that all fic + hc requests are still closed #another reminder anything that has been previously sent with a request will take a while to get to #new batch format going forward for lovely lovely words so i dont clog up yalls dashboards #ramen asks is the tag to filter in your settings if you dont want to see these #🕊️ anon #goo brainrot anon #ramen asks

[un-pearable]

s4 thoughts: okay honestly im really surprised the tournament arc came this early in the show because for some reason i thought it came a lot later. either i had. so much fun this was such a fun arc. i was also familiar with wayyy way more of this season than the other ones which was surprising so i mustve watched the bulk of it at least twice or something.

okay lets get the worst thing out of the way so that we can talk about things i really liked. the . euuuuuugh the garmadon / misako / wu love triangle that they still keep bringing up for some reason. actually im just going to take a snippet of one of my angry discord rants and leave it at that

number 2: THE RESOLUTION OF THE JAY/NAYA/COLE LOVE TRIANGLE!!!! thank GOODNESS im so glad that is done. i'm glad we're all friends again and dont have to bring that up in any sort of significant way going forward. hopefully. id like to see more friendship shenanigans please writers please

number 3: im obsessed with how absolutely and entirely confused i am about the timeline of ninjago. i understand nothing. i really dont and i think the writers are just as confused as i am

number 4: i think they did a better job w skylor/kai than any of the other ships so far but also half of that is because im pretty sure it being kind of shallow but having the potential to be an actually functional and mildly interesting relationship is the point instead of on accident this time. at least thats what i got out of it

number 5: speaking of skylor, who the heck is her mom. real question. this is always my question whenever any dude has a child with no mention of a mom especially because half the men in question i could not see anybody getting married to them in a million years.

number 6: i feel like the writing got significantly better this season. the plot was tighter and the jokes were a lot funnier and . yeah i dont know i had so much fun the fights were engaging without dragging on too much on characters we dont have any real investment in and i really like how they didnt just put everybody into the same stone pit and had them beat the snot out of each other. many points for creativity.

number 7: your tags on my last ask

literally SOOO true nothing else to add you hit the nail on the head. tangentially related question but is it ever explained how chen got his hands on pixal & zane (???)

number 8: lloyd & garmadon continues to be the most interesting and compelling relationship in the show, which is great for me because im terribly invested in this. my curse in life is that the more invested i am in a character or relationship the more my brain locks up when i try to talk about it so trying to put something into words is like pulling teeth but !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! THEY WERE SO GOOD THIS SEASONNNN im also really glad they let lloyd be mad for five minutes when garmadon decides to send himself to the spirit realm or whatever to save ninjago. thank you writers. also having lloyd be the one to send him off like 😭😭😭 wow yall really out here making him kill his dad Again but also YESSSSS yesss couldnt have chosen anybody better this was so good

number 9: some more miscellaneous things, but like. dude this season was so fun. the premise is "the ceo of this megacorp noodle company is actually is holding an underground fight ring between all the elemental masters so he can steal all their powers and use it to turn all his men into anacondri" is absolutely wack and i am 10000000% here for it. still not over how the prisoners built a jet to escape the underground noodle factory, btw. some other misc observations

also cannot believe they worked literally DARETH into this. incredible showstopping spectacular amazing this was so much fun. 9/10 (<- one point docked for subjecting me to more garmadon/misako/wu) arc

1) ah yes,, the misako frustration reigns eternal. i will never get over how interesting she had the potential to be (implied to be badass archaeologist adventurer who’s also setting the trend for deadbeat moms? at the very least she could be frustrating but fun) and the dedication to making her the good guy in all conceivable situations is ACTIVELY harming the narrative. i wish she could be shitty in a fun way so bad

2) hell yeah!!!! the love triangle is annoying but cole and jay’s dynamic through out this season is very dear to me. its stupid as hell but dear.

3) mhm mhm mhm. it gets so painfully clear that they grew out of the original plan for the series VERY quickly after s2 and over time it only gets funnier as they try harder and harder to justify each new season’s premise. personal fave is “fuck it video game”

4) skylor and kai is fun!!! i’m not usually a fan of those kinds of dynamics but they’re more convincingly attracted to each other and maybe have the momentum + desire to make it work than. pretty much every single other romantic relationship at this point

5) ahh… the villains inexplicable child dilemma. theoretically she had to be the previous master of amber but imo it’s much funnier if chen just yoinked skylor from somewhere. or she was just 100% down for evil machinations and skylor’s the weirdo in the family for being half decent. either way good fuckin question why is this so ridiculously common

6) yeah!! the fights and competitions are actually pretty creative and the structure did tie the whole season together well,, this seasons technically less exciting than the others but you can def tell they had a much clearly vision and plan for it. and the roller derby is funny as hell so

7) i could talk about zane for ages and ages.. the day i finally write the android-becomes-human trope fic about him and pixal (is probably never going to come bc i can’t decide When it should take place bc his opinions would be vastly different) is the day i win. i believe it’s canon that robin’s the one who turned them over? zane rebuilt himself, pixal found him and then they got captured (the ending of s3 was supposed to tease about zane’s new body but i think it didn’t get animated correctly). i very much could be wrong but i’m like 80% sure that’s canon

8) GOD YEAH ITS SO GOOD. lloyd and garmadon carry the character dynamics for the entire show. utterly tragic. stunning. i also have nothing coherent to say about them but will never shut up about them. i want to stick s1 lloyd and current lloyd into a box and shake it until the emotions and complex feelings about their father come out

9) IT IS IT REALLY IS. ninjago at its core MUST be goofy as hell and s4 embraces it in SUCH a good way. later they get too good at angst i need stupid shit and stupid shit we get. (okay not really. what i mean is early goofiness fits with the established show, where later stuff is more. spontaneous and lol random wouldnt-it-be-funny-if stuff rather than part of the narrative’s status quo) agshdjfjfkf tysm for your reactions im never going to be able to watch it w/o those being in my head again.. ooohh there’s something there about ourboros but i don’t have words for it rn. the narrative is constantly eating itself to rewrite what was once canon so they can tell new stories. it’s crumbling under the weight of needing to tell more and more new and creative things in a world that was built for four ten minute glorified advertisements,, consuming itself and rewriting its own history by necessity…

#idk where i’m going with that last bit. anyway hell yeah my main man dareth #also!!!!! i know it’s in your next ask and im gonna do that next but don’t stop!!!! im really enjoying this #i LOVE live-blogs i’ve just been busy today #i totally thought i’d posted this one but it got stuck in my drafts apparently #i’ve been spending 99% of my time drawing lately and forgot to check 😔 #i’ve been enjoying the hell out of this though so if you want to keep doing it im absolutely here for it im having so much fun #sorry these are basically essays now agdhdjf #fun though. you’ve got killer insight and it’s super interesting seeing what you latch onto #text✨ #ninjago #liveninjablogging

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #enemies to lovers #dwd!harry #idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk #pls leave feedback and reblog

[starrygender]

REQUESTS OPEN

[pt: REQUESTS OPEN]

About Us

[pt: About Us]

Hi!!! Were the Shimmerstar Hive (sometimes spelled "Hiive"), also known as the Celestine Hive or Milkyway Shiver, and this is our casual coining blog where we coin gendas (genders), orientations, and other ids!! Sometimes we post personal things here as well, which are tagged appropriately.

Collectively, we use it/its and he/him, and are fine with being referred to with "you", "yall", or even "you&" and other such variants if you insist. We really like the sound of "you+", though, even though we've never seen it used before.

We switch between we/we're and I/I'm constantly, so sorry if that's confusing.

We are a median non-disordered traumagenic system with some endogenic members. with around 140+ members currently. We are pro-endo all the way.

We all work in making the flags and like to brainstorm for new genders and identities.

We are bodily 19 years old.

We have schizophrenia, depression, anxiety, ADHD, HPD, BPD, and autism, all of which affect the system. Furthermore, we are clinically cynanthropic and lycanthropic, but still use "kin", "therian", and "alterhuman" in our identities.

carrd: stardustslinger.carrd.co pronouns page: en.pronouns.page/@Starry622

We are unable to ID most flags, as attempting to do so, oddly enough, freezes our brain. Literally, it's basically only flags that we can't do, and I don't know why. Please help if you'd like to!

All other info, including a BYF below

[pt: All other info, including a BYF below]

Rules

[pt: Rules]

• I will make flags and coin identities!

• I will coin genders, orientations, alterhuman identities, objectums, and anything mogai/liom or otherwise queer.

• I will edit pre-existing flags/make my own flags for pre-existing terms, but only with permission from the creators.

• I will make userboxes.

• I will make pronoun flags.

• I will try my best to make neopronoun and name sets/help with neopronouns and names.

• I will not make DNI banners or moodboards. At least not yet.

• I will not make/edit/use terms exclusive to poc or any cultures, ethnicities, or religions I do not belong to. general ideas from open religions are usually fine, however.

• I will not touch anything about the dsmp. Minecraft in general is welcome, though.

• I will not do name/term searching/help.

Keep in mind:

That I still have the right to turn down any requests for any reason, even if it is within the rules I've laid out.

That I may take as long as I need to. You may ask about your request status, but please do not spam.

This is still very much a casual blog, made for structure, but run for fun.

Tagging System

[pt: Tagging System]

Anything I coin will be tagged with '#genda coin' (gender)/'#sexuality coin'/'#alth coin' (alterhuman, 'kin, etc)/'#id coin'* (misc identity)/'#term coin'/'#flag coin'.

I'll also tag '#new genda' on my newly coined genders

Asks and requests will be tagged with '#shiver replies' and '#shiver requests'.

Personal posts will be tagged with '#shiver diary'.

And any miscellaneous posts will be tagged with '#misc'

When I find a cool genda? I reblog it, and tag it '#cool genda' or '#cool gendas' if there's multiple. I'll follow a similar tagging scheme for other IDs*.

If we find a cool ID* and wanna add it to one or more of our hoard, I'll tag it with '#hoard'.

We occasionally sign off in the tags, and we always do so when we find it important for the context of the post.

*ID in this context is for 'identity', as in a catch-all category for things folks may identify as/with. In case there's something that's more unspecific to a certain kind of self-identification, or if it simply isn't specified at all. This can also be for miscellaneous things like pride flags for mental illnesses and neurodivergency, including symptom specific flags (i.e. PTSD, ADHD/amism, or intrusive thoughts flags) ...Or if I just have no clue, in which case, someone can hopefully help me by correcting me, and I'll promptly fix my mistake.

Heres V's pronouns page: https://en.pronouns.page/@Starry622

Feel free to ask us anything!

BYF:

[pt: BYF]

•If this isn't clear, I'm radinclus (not radqueer, as stated further down).

•I believe in BLM and ACAB. I am pro-Palestine. I have anarchist views and am also a feminist (NOT to be confused with radfems/TERFs/"gender critical"s or SWERFs, as I am against those ideologies).

•I believe in systems of all kinds and origins, and I believe all trans people on their identity (transness and systemhood obviously aren't the same thing or very comparable, but I feel as if antis and medicalists of both have a lot of ideological overlap). A fair bit of our system is made up from things outside of stress and trauma (although we are traumagenic).

•And while I'm on it, detransitioners are valid, too. You tried a thing that either never worked out or can't be continued for whatever reason, and that's okay. You were never the enemy, and neither were we. TERFs turned us against each other, and that fucking sucks.

•I believe all kinds of 'kin and alterhuman identities are valid. Even KFF (kin for fun).

•I never judge sources for 'kin or system members, and I expect to have that same respect.

•I only support identities that are in good faith, like bi lesbian, lesboy, turigirl, multigender, and whatever else exclusionaries and separatists hate. TransX/TransID/PRATs can never be in good faith, outside possibly being used for those with BIID or POC in adopted families. Transspecies is not TransX/TransID because it came from alterhuman communities and is therefore good faith and valid.

•I am less than fond of anything MCYT, especially DSMP, but I'm also not gonna be an asshole about it. I will simply engage minimally with that specific content. I might like cool art posts or whatever, though.

•Obviously, I will not tolerate hate towards any marginalized group. This includes aphobia, homophobia, bi/pan/omniphobia, transphobia (I'm entirely neutral on transandrophobia/transmisandry discourse because it's still about transphobia either way and should be talked about), xenophobia, and racism.

•Obviously, I support MOGAI/LIOM, microlabels and neopronouns.

•I am generally uncomfy with proshippers, but I also know that there can be nuance and some people use that kind of stuff to cope. I can't say I get it, but it's not my business. I'm not gonna grill anyone, I'll just block. Regardless of reason, I generally don't want to see or consume media like that.

•I am pro paraphilia. I wish the 'big 3' (pedo, zoo, necro) love, support, and therapy, especially if they are strictly anti-contact (contact includes consuming media that perpetuates harm, like CP). Obviously, I don't want any folks that are neutral- or pro-contact for any harmful paraphilia interacting.

•I support all types of regression and believe that negative language like "impure" should be used with caution if used at all by those who are not self-identifying.

•I will not engage in discourse for my own mental wellbeing, and anyone who tries to drag me into it will be promptly blocked and ignored.

•I genuinely believe that, save for some exceptions, friends can be made and maintained despite difference of opinion and ideology. The first step to try this is to not be an ass. Hope this helps <3

I may add more as time goes on.

[ID: A banner of teal blue water. On the banner, it says "I can't stop folks from interacting, so just don't be an asshole, and I'll block you if I disagree with your views too much." End ID.]

#mogai safe #mogai #mogai post #pro mogai #neopronouns #neoprns #introductory post #neurodivergent #read my dni #mogai blog #mogai inclus #mogai real #mogai friendly #movai positivity #mogaireal #promogai #lgbtq #queer #gay #trans man #queer positivity #xenogender #overhuman #althuman #alterhuman #polymorph? #polymorph #identity coining #system

[fandom-monium]

i finished for the holidays and i just *chefs kiss* beautiful talented amazing sajkgdkj no words i love that romance wasnt even the main point 🥺💘 anyway i love how you write reader and i wondered between her and spencer who gets jealous???

Unrivaled

Summary: In which you seem pretty close with the new intern, and Spencer is not happy about it. (ft. one of my fave white bois) “Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

WC: 3.6k

Tags/Warnings: Spencer Reid x GN!Reader, fluff, cussing, Jealous!Spencer bc id like to see that, established relationships (blegh), Garvez if you squint, the lightest implication of smut ever, points to yall who can guess who the intern is before reading the end or the tags 😉

—

Spencer is not jealous. He’s not.

Why would he be? 

He has no reason to be jealous, Spencer chants to himself as he sits at his desk. Even from across the bullpen he still manages to hear your voice, and while normally it’s music to his ears, even better than Mozart, now it just feels like nails against a chalkboard. Grating his eardrums, making him wince.

Because you’re laughing. Not with Spencer though. Not at his obscure references or lame jokes.

With the new intern.

Why did Emily have to put you in charge of him? She could’ve chosen anyone on the team to have him shadow, but it had to be you! Not that you’re incapable or unqualified; you’re experienced, talented, and the best person he knows. 

… Okay, he can see why she picked you.

Why do they even have interns? Unnecessary, really, when the BAU has you and him and he guesses the other teams too (it’s weird, he’s never actually interacted with them but whatever). Maybe it’s time to start making budget cuts. He’ll discuss this with Emily when he gets the chance. He’s got some influence, working at the BAU as long as he has.

But he’s not jealous. 

Logically, jealousy (like an intern) is unnecessary. The green-eyed monster (like an intern) is ugly and contributes nothing productive, and if Spencer’s being honest, the world (like an intern) would be much better off without it.

At least that’s what he keeps telling himself as he downs his coffee like a shot of whiskey, trying to quell the squirming beast in him. Despite 90% of it being sugar, it still tastes bitter. He sets his mug down with a thud, and it’s loud enough to make Luke, Garcia, and JJ turn their heads, exchanging concerned glances when he slumps back in his chair.

Spencer doesn’t care. The world’s ending; you’re apparently into younger guys, with neat dark hair and forearms that can probably snap someone’s neck, and he can’t do anything about it. What does it matter if his best friends catch him in a sour mood, right?

“Hey, Spence,” JJ's tone is soft as they slink over, Garcia and Luke leaning against the edge of his desk and JJ flanking the other side. “You alright?”

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” Spencer gazes past them, his eyes never leaving you. He deflates; your stance is relaxed, completely open as you nod at whatever Intern is saying, his hands gesturing spastically. It must be interesting, the way you listen with rapt attention and respond just as enthusiastic.

Spencer scoffs. Not like that’s anything special. You do the same for him. And the rest of the team.

...What the hell are you guys talking about? 

“Well, you look like you’re about to throw your mug across the room. Or at an intern.”

Spencer blinks, finally breaking away from you long enough to eye the ceramic octopus. “That’s a good idea actually.”

“Don’t,” Garcia and JJ both shoot him a warning and he huffs, resting his chin in his hand. Garcia looks horrified, betrayed even while JJ has that expression on, the one she gives when she scolds Henry and Michael.

Whatever. It’s not like he’d ever sacrifice Mildred. Garcia entrusted her to him, after all. 

Unless...?

No, he couldn’t… Maybe.

“You know, Reid, if you’re jealous—”

Spencer snaps his head to Garcia, eyes wide and darting to you like you have super-hearing, “Jealous? Who’s jealous? Not me.” He cringes, his voice octaves higher and cracking like a prepubescent boy.

Garcia snorts, “Okay, sure. But if you are jealous, I was going to say you have no reason to be. You wanna know why?” Spencer raises an eyebrow at her and she continues, “Sure the guy’s smart enough to get a full-ride scholarship at GWU, and he’s top of his class at the academy—”

“Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

"And he’s one of the most good looking guys I've ever met—”

"How is that relevant—"

Luke frowns at her. "And have you met me?"

“My point is,” Garcia’s red lipstick curls into the most reassuring smile, “that you have nothing to worry about because (Your Name) loves you. A lot.” 

Spencer perks up. “You really think so?”

“I know so. I see the way they look at you, and if that’s not love I don’t know what is," She shrugs, "And just because they’re talking doesn’t mean they’re into him.”

There's a collective nod of agreement and Spencer sags in relief. Of course they're right. He knows they are. 

If you think about it, technically, he's got the advantage. You've known each other longer, bonded and shared experiences together good and bad, and you’re emotionally and even physically intimate with each other (something he's especially proud of, considering how long it takes you both to warm up to others).

And who knows? This is probably temporary! Whatever this is, the connection you seem to instantly make with Intern (faster than when you two had met, he realizes with a needle to his heart) is short-term at best. It'll peter out eventually, like most friendships do.

It’s sad, but a cruel fact of life.

(Is this selfish, wishful thinking? Nah.)

They’re right, there is no need to worry, Spencer thinks as a weight lifts off his chest, finally able to breathe. You love him and he loves you and eventually, everything will go back to normal. 

There’s nothing to worry about.

—

The world’s ending.

“It’s really not.”

Yes, it is.

“Doc, come on.”

“Do not ‘Doc’ me,” Spencer grumbles, lifting his head from the comfort of his arms. He grimaces at Luke. “You didn’t see the way they looked at him. The way they talk about him.”

Two weeks. It’s been two weeks since you’ve taken Intern under your wing, and he’s had enough. If Hell is real, this is it. For days, he’s tried to resume some form of normalcy, and he was never one to be bold but desperate times call for desperate measures as he asks you out for lunch or invites you out on dates, even stuff he wouldn’t normally do because they’re more your thing. Something, anything to get you away from Intern. But...

At work: “Hey Spence, I'm teaching Intern (menial task that a 4 year old could do). Would you like to help—”

During break: “I’m taking Intern out for lunch. He’s still new to town, and I thought he could use a tour—”

In bed: “Did you know Intern’s a huge fan of Star Wars—”

Snap, and there went his patience.

Intern this, Intern that. 

Spencer could tolerate this at work. At least he’s saving lives, being productive, getting paid. But under his roof? In his bed? 

That was the last straw.

Spencer's not one to wish ill on another, he's not like that. But if something happened to the guy, say, get injured in the field, perhaps from a "stray" bullet, he'd be intern-ally grateful. Heh. 

"Hey, you good?"

Spencer sighs, swiping a hand over his face and turning back to Luke. "Yeah, why?"

Luke waves a hand at his face, eyebrow raised, "For a second there, you kind of had a scary look on your face."

"Did I? Weird."

"Right," Clearly unconvinced, Luke brushes it off, deciding to get to the root of the matter. "As I was saying, I still think you have nothing to worry about. Although, I do think it's a little weird that (Your Name) is talking about Intern as much as you say they are." He offers Spencer a little smile, his hand falling heavy on his shoulder. It's the most comforting touch he's had in two weeks. "I'm not one to talk, but I suggest you speak to them. I'd also be uncomfortable if my partner were talking up someone else."

Spencer blinks, squints at Luke, before gripping his hand and standing up. "Have I ever told you how much I value your friendship?"

"You can stand to mention it more often," Luke shrugs, eyes crinkling with amusement as Spencer lets go and heads for the door. 

"Noted."

—

Spencer nearly goes feral when he finds you.

Of course you're with him.

He searched the floor like a bloodhound, discovering you've been on your feet almost the entire day, running around the office, up and down the elevators, finishing your work and helping around. You must be exhausted. It's because of this he tracks you to your favorite break room, mostly quiet save for the buzzing drip of the old coffeemaker. He knows you need to be alone sometimes, recharge those social batteries.

So when he bursts into the room like he would hunting an unsub, eyes quickly scanning the immediate space, he expects nothing less but you. What he did not anticipate was to find you, just as soft and pretty as ever under the fluorescent lighting, leaning against the counter and sipping daintily at your favorite mug. 

With Intern standing a little too close to his liking.

“Hey, Spencer,” You chirp as you lower your coffee mug, lips glossy from your drink. Spencer's quick to shake his stupor―he can’t afford to be distracted, but it’s difficult when you’re beaming at him, clearly excited. You nod at the home-wrecker, “Me and Intern here were just talking about demonology and he’s got this interesting theory on werewolves―" Lycanthropy? Are you fucking kidding him right now? 

Just when he thought he couldn't hate the guy any more.

"CanItalktoyou?" It comes out rushed as Spencer gasps between breaths, leaving no room to second guess himself.

"Sure," You blink at his urgent tone.

For a second, you watch him expectantly, and Spencer's gaze darts between you and Intern. "Alone?"

"Oh! Okay. Be gone," You wave Intern off, and when you place a hand on his shoulder, Spencer sees red. Or green in this case.

Intern doesn't resist, but the noise Spencer releases is animalistic because the guy can’t seem to read the room, questioning you as you gently shove him towards the door. "What about the thing―"

"We'll talk about that later."

"But you still need to show me how to―"

"Don't worry, Intern. Just wait for me, I'll show you once the adults are done talking."

"You know at some point you're gonna have to call me by my name." 

"Nah. If we get to call Luke a newbie, we get to call you Intern. Also I do not know how to say your first name."

 "You could just call me St―"

Enough of this. Spencer closes the last stretch of distance, batting your hand away from Intern’s shoulders as he kicks him out himself, slamming the door in his face. Spencer turns on his heel to face you, caging you both. “You―” He pants, chest heaving for air.

“Me?”

“You-him-we―”

You’re unfazed, simply nodding at him and his odd behavior. If anything, you’re enjoying this as your lips twitch in a poor attempt to withhold your amusement, trying to cover it with a slurp of your cup. Then again, it’s not everyday you get to see Spencer, face flushed from exertion, speechless as he gasps for breath.

(At least not at work… In the break room specifically.)

It takes a minute as Spencer swallows a few times, but his heart’s erratic and it’s not just from running through the entire building. When he’s got enough air, he blurts out, “Did I do something?”

Your brow shoots up. “What?”

“Did I forget something important? Upset you in some way?”

“No? I don’t think so?” You frown at him, your answers more like questions. 

It only spurs him on, and though his tone is frantic and his eyes just as wild as his hair, you’re more intrigued than frightened. Definitely confused.

“Okay, but you know I love you, right?”

“Yes and I love you too but Spence, what’s this about?" Setting down your mug, you look at him like he's grown another head.

Spencer sighs, "I just… you…" He frowns, glancing between you, the floor, and the empty space between you. 

Spencer Reid is a man of words. Many, many words, according to all his friends and his coworkers. Mainly knowledge―he's never been great with feelings―but as you gaze at him, patiently waiting for him to gather his thoughts, he wants to melt into the floor. There's not a hint of annoyance on your features, your eyes warm and inviting. 

He's so in love with you.

Then like scripture the words come, natural without much stuttering or hesitancy. He recounts the last two weeks. The internship so far, the times you've left Spencer behind for him, the times you just talked about him, like the guy (practically a stranger) is your new best friend. Usually, pretty people make him tongue-tied and you do―god, you do―but at the same time only you make it so easy. Talking, expressing without fear of―

"Pfft―"

―Judgement. Pausing mid-sentence, Spencer gawks as your nose twitches and your blink rate increases. You purse your lips, a hand slapped over your mouth as it threatens to break out into a grin.

"Are you-are you laughing right now?" When he just poured his feelings out to you? 

That does it. You keel over, peels of laughter coming like a tsunami, crashing into him and Spencer loves your laugh but not when it's at him. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I shouldn't be laughing," you wheeze, gripping your stomach. Spencer pouts. There's even tears in your eyes. "But you're telling me this is all because you're jealous?"

He stutters, "Well-I-no-It’s just…" He wants to say ‘you're mine’, but as your eyes crinkle he knows there’s no need.

"That's kinda hot."

"Wha-really?" Wide-eyed, Spencer squeaks as you step closer to him, backing him into the door. His hands come up to his chest in a kitten-like manner yet at the same time protective―you'd never hurt him and you both know that―but you admit your initial reaction was poor when he laid his feelings bare. 

“Ahhhh Babe, you know there’s no one else for me but you.” Spencer blushes and you chuckle, taking his hands in yours. He let's you. “Also, as adorable as Intern is, one, I think I’d be able to tell if he was hitting on me, and two, he’s not really my type.”

Spencer swallows, “And what exactly is your type?”

“Hmm, let’s see,” Looking him up and down, you step closer, enough that your breath puffs against his chin. You smell like cheap coffee. “Tall, handsome doctors with messy, brown hair―” You lightly tug at one of his stray curls and he bites back a smile. 

“―and a cute nose―” Your hand moves to cup his cheek, bringing him down to peck the tip of his nose. It scrunches as Spencer breaks out into giggles. 

“―Who can recite classic literature. Who can bake like he belongs on The Great British Baking Show but can’t cook for shi―”

“Okay! Thank you, I get it,” Spencer says, almost completely relaxed now.

“Good,” You nod with finality. “And for your information, I wasn’t trying to make you jealous."

He raises an eyebrow. "So you just abandoned me and talked about another guy for the hell of it?"

Spencer's tone is casual, joking even but you know better. There's underlying bitterness and hurt and your heart squeezes because you did that. "No, of course not. There is a reason behind all that.“

“What could possibly excuse you going above and beyond your job as a mentor―”

“I was trying to set you guys up.”

Spencer deadpans. “Set me up? With him?” Oh god, he knows you’re weird, but he’s never considered you to be outright insane (is it weird he still loves you?).

As if reading his thoughts, you roll your eyes, “Spencer, how many friends do you have outside the team?”

“Not a lot.” No hesitation, but he accepted the fact a long time ago. 

“Yeah and that’s okay. But if you’d talk to Intern, you’ll find you two have a lot in common. I know he’s younger than us, but he’s a good kid, real smart,” You give him a meaningful look and shrug, “Not like IQ 187 smart but he could definitely hold a conversation with you.”

Spencer murmurs, pulling you in so you're chest to chest, “This entire time, you were really trying to make us friends?”

You nod, your expression a mix of giddiness and hope that makes whatever feelings he felt before, the confusion and―yes, fine―the jealousy, dissolve like sugar in water. Spencer sinks into you, burying his face into the crook of your neck and inhaling your soap. Of course you had good intentions. Of course you wanted to do something nice for him.

Fuck, he loves you.

“So… we good?”

Spencer huffs, “I hope you realize how much I suffered the past few weeks.”

“I know, I’m sorry.”

“Then yes, we’re good,” He mumbles into your shoulder, “I appreciate what you were trying to do.”

“And?”

His brow furrows and he pulls back, meeting your eyes. “And what?”

“Will you try to be friends?” You look at him expectantly.

Spencer opens his mouth to answer, a definitive no on his tongue, but then you’re giving him puppy-dog eyes and before he realizes it, “Okay.”

Wait, no. That is not what he meant to say.

“Yeah!” You throw your arms around him, and Spencer can’t stop you, grunting as you basically swing him around like a rag doll. But he finds he doesn’t care when you set him back down because you’re happy, happy for him, grinning ear to ear as you babble, “I can already tell you two are gonna be the best of friends! You guys have so much to talk about, all that nerdy stuff. Maybe even debate! And we could play chess and―”

There’s a knock and you both turn, a voice muffled by the door, “Hey, guys? I don’t want to interrupt in case you’re boning, but you didn’t exactly tell me where to wait for you? God, I hope you guys aren’t boning. Please tell me you’re not boning right now.”

You groan, “No Intern, we’re not boning! Right-uh-go ahead and meet me back at the office, I’ll be right with you.” You turn back to Spencer, sending him an apologetic look. “I will see you later, okay? And since you’ve been such a patient and understanding partner,” You plant him one last kiss before patting his cheek, and his eyes widen as your voice lowers in the way you know drives him crazy, your eyes glinting with mischief, “I’ll make it up to once we get home. Bye, love you!”

Before Spencer can fully register your words, you're out the door, cackling as you leave him to compose himself, his face beet red from running the possibilities. By the time he emerges from the break room, you’re long gone.

“Hi, Dr. Reid?”

Spencer almost snarls, cursing under his breath. Just when he thought the day was getting better. He turns back. 

Intern stands tall, relaxed and shoulders back, black tie loose and cheap white-collar button up slightly wrinkled. No doubt from working hard and following your instructions throughout the day. Spencer respects the work ethic at least. Meanwhile, the younger man eyes him, and he’s certain it’s not from intimidation but with curiosity.

Spencer doesn’t linger on that. He’s used to it, not being intimidating to others.

He continues, “It’s nice to finally talk to you, one on one I mean. I’m a fan of your work. Seven degrees, huh?”

“Yeah,” Spencer says curtly. Recalling the earlier conversation with you, he stamps down his irritation and tries to extend an olive branch. “How did you know?”

“It’s the internet, sir,” Intern raises an eyebrow, offering an innocent smile. 

“Right,” Spencer returns it with an awkward one of his own, “Hey, sorry for... literally kicking you out before. That was completely unprofessional.”

Intern waves him off, “No, it’s cool. I totally get it. I’m flattered, by the way.”

Spencer frowns. “Flattered?”

“Well, it’s not everyday you find out your superior’s jealous of you.”

Spencer blinks, and it takes all his experience as a profiler to mask his embarrassment. “You heard that.”

“The FBI’s got thin walls,” Intern shrugs and steps towards him. “Although I have to say, Agent (Your Last Name) is wrong about one thing.” Stopping short in front of him, for the first time Spencer is close enough to note the moles dotting his face. “They can’t tell that I’m flirting with them.” 

He starts down the hall after you, and Spencer’s eyes trail after him as his brow furrows, until realization slams into him and his jaw drops. “Wait, you...”

“Oh and since (Your Last Name) wants us to be friends, I think we could be on a first-name basis,” He pauses to look back at Spencer, watching with a crooked smile as the older man sputters. 

“So, you can call me Stiles, sir.”

Then once again, Spencer is left behind, frozen in the hallway as he processes what just happened.

And the next time he finds you and Special Agent Stilinski in the same room, whether it’s crowded or not, Spencer does not hesitate to cling to your side, putting as much distance between the intern and you as he can. Spencer’s grateful you don’t question it.

There may not be anyone else for you, but that doesn’t mean no one will try.

―

AN: ahhhhh thanks anon!! There was a similar request then i saw this tiktok (and listened to this tiktok the entire time) and i combined them. Id also like to emphasize that my version of reader is neutral across the board, race, gender, etc.

Yes, i have a type. No, i will not be taking criticism. 

Been hella overwhelmed with classes and work so here’s my way of destressing. Also suggest checking those tiktoks if you wanna understand me :))) also you mean to tell me i have to write the threesome myself?? Bs tbh 😔

watched 15x4 and i was so sad when Spencer addressed Luke as his coworker like no bitch hes your new bro stfu

and i have no doubt that stiles and spencer would be one of the best crossover duos given the chance 

#spencer reid x reader #mgg x reader #matthew gray gubler x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x y/n #mgg fanfiction #mgg imagine #mgg x y/n #matthew gray gubler x oc #matthew gray gubler imagine #mgg fic #criminal minds x y/n #criminal minds x oc #criminal minds x reader #stiles stilinksi x reader

[naturallytom]

Working Late (Peter Parker x reader)

a/n: me?? posting a piece of writing???? wild!!! n e way i hope yall enjoy this, it was something i whipped up last night!! 

warnings: none really, just bad writing

prompt: “I’ll walk you home” from this list

please reblog/leave feedback!!

_______________________________________________________________________“Have a nice night!” You called to the customer as they left the shop with their drink. You sighed, wiping down the counter in front of you, checking the time on the register. 5:30pm. Only 4 more hours til your shift was over and you could finally go home. 

“You counting down the hours too?” Peter asked from behind you, taking his place at the register next to yours. 

“Yeah.” You replied, taking a sip of water and taking in the empty coffee shop before continuing. “This is the most dead it’s been all day. It’s a nice break.” 

“I still don’t get why it’s so busy during mid day. Don’t most people get their coffees in the morning?” Peter sighed, making you chuckle.

“We live in New York City, Peter. Places like this are always busy. Plus we’re right next to a bunch of stores. A lot of the customers from today have been employees from those stores grabbing something to get them through a shift.” You reminded him, causing him to put his hands up in a surrendering motion. 

“You make a good point.” He smiled. “What time did you get here?”

“3.” You replied. “You got here at 4 right?” 

Peter nodded. “Surprised you saw me come in during the madness.” 

“I saw you come in I just didn’t get to talk to you til now because it was so busy.” You pointed out. “I’m glad it’s died down, though.” 

“Oh same. It’s actually kind of nice when it’s not hectic.” Peter said, leaning against the counter. 

“It is.” You sighed, looking out the window. As much as you hated working late, you did take pleasure in being able to see the sunset in a cute coffee shop. The view of the colors in the sky blending together along with the sun slowly setting from the chairs in the shop was something you’d watch every night if you could. 

And on clear nights, if you looked up, sometimes you could catch a glimpse of the stars. Tonight was cloudy though, but you knew if you looked up when you were walking home you could probably see the moon, shining through the clouds. 

The peaceful images in your mind were interrupted by the oh so familiar ringing of the bell above the door, alerting you that a customer had entered. 

“I got this one.” Peter told you quietly, stepping up to the register and greeting the customer. 

You smiled gratefully, thankful that you’d get a break from ringing people up even if only for a minute. You hummed to yourself as you got the customer’s drink ready, before handing it to them and telling them “have a nice night!” as you did with each customer that came in, even the ones that made you want to yell and scream in their faces. 

The rest of the night went by slower than you wanted it to but surprisingly pleasant for a long shift. When there were no customers, you and Peter spent your time talking and joking around. It surprised you that the two of you hadn’t spoken more, but you knew that during the school year you had less work availability and since you only finished school a week ago, you accepted that it was just because of scheduling that you hadn’t talked to him as much as you would’ve liked. 

Wiping down the counter once again, you noticed this time that it was 9:30pm. 

“Hey.” You spoke, getting Peter’s attention. “It’s 9:30. Time to go home.” 

“Thank god.” He sighed, making you smile. “Let’s go get our stuff.” 

The two of you went to the back, taking off your aprons and hanging them up, clocking out and grabbing whatever belongings you brought before heading out, knowing the manager would lock up behind you. 

“Well I’m glad you be done.” You breathed. “Have a good night, Peter!” 

You turned to start to walk in the direction of your apartment, but Peter’s voice interrupted you. 

“Wait- Are you walking home alone?” He asked.

“I was going to, yeah. I usually do when I work late.” You answered, slightly confused. 

“I- Well, I’ll walk you home.” He said. 

“You don’t have to, I’ll be fine. It’s only 10 minutes.” You tried to assure him but he shook his head. 

“No it’s late. I can’t let you walk home all by yourself. Even if it is just 10 minutes.” He spoke. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” You asked, starting to walk in the direction of your apartment with Peter following you. 

“Not at all. I’d rather know you got back safely.” He grinned, making you smile softly. 

The two of you walked in silence before arriving at a cross walk. You looked up at the sky and just as you expected, the small sliver of the moon that was out was shining through the clouds of the night sky. 

“The moon is so pretty this time of night.” Peter pointed out, glancing up at the sky. 

“It is really pretty. It’s one of the things I always look for on my way home.” You nearly whispered, before seeing you could cross. “We can cross, by the way.” 

It wasn’t long before you reached your apartment building, pausing to get your keys out. 

“Hey thanks for walking me home.” You told Peter. “I really appreciate it.” 

“Anytime.” He replied. “Have a nice night.” 

“You too. And will you let me know when you get back to your place safely?” You asked. 

“Sure.” He told you, starting to walk in the direction of his apartment. “And hey, anytime you’re working late, let me know! I’ll walk you home!” 

You smiled, but had a feeling this would not be the last time he would be walking you home. 

_______________________________________________________________________

tagging some mutuals cause im scared to post this: @sunshinehollandd @moonlit-void-to-the-far-unknown​ @spiderboytotherescue @tomhollandd @spideypeach​​​

#peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker x fem!reader #peter parker x female!reader #peter parker fluff #peter parker oneshot #peter parker fanfiction #peter parker fanfic #peter parker fic

[theravenclawlover]

Welcome to the Industry of Porn

Paring: Avengers X Female!Reader

Warnings: +18, heavy smut, drinking, slight angst in later chapters, fluff if you squint, and my English as usual.

Word Count: 3,451.

Summary: AU where the Avengers are Pornstars. It’s pretty self-explanatory.

Chapter: 4.

Chapter Title: A new kind of family

A/N: I finally graduated yall! So long college life! Sorry, this part took so long to post, but I had finals and graduation, and now I have to look for a job lmao. Nothing scandalous on this part, and won't until maybe the next one. which won't be you but two of my favorite characters. If you want to be tagged for this work or others please let me know by either commenting or sending me an ask.

The month after the glorious evening you and Cassie had in Las Vegas, life became full of surprises. If you were being completely honest with yourself, you hadn't expected to keep in touch with anyone you met at the party, but it seemed you had made a good impression because you were now friends with Bucky and Steve. Well, more like texting buddies as that was the only way the four—Cassie was also in the group chat Bucky had insisted on making as he found it annoying to send the same funny videos three times—could keep contact. It had started with funny videos Bucky would text you, and then Steve would send important news he found on the internet. You, of course, were confused but didn't say anything until Cassie had brought it up as she commented about a topic Steve had sent the both of you. You found it funny, really, almost ironic that you had seen those two fuck for porn and now they were trying to come up with a catchy nickname that they could bug you with. Again, ironic.

But that wasn't the only thing that had been a surprise, you had been seeing more of Tony as well. You knew that Stark was friends with the Russo's but something they had failed to mention during the party was that they were the directors behind most of the high-ranking adult movies the Avengers had. You had found out about it one week and a half after the party when you were shooting three different shorts for the Russo's, and Tony had paid a visit along with Jason. Cassie and you were confused to see both men there and had asked Joe after the day was over why they were there. He had opted to grin and say, 'he has new projects, and has been talking with Jason and us about 'em'. That had been enough for the both of you until he kept coming to every other shoot you had.

One morning, after having shot the first couple of scenes of the day, Jason knocked on the door of the room Cassie was waiting for you to finish taking a quick shower.

"Hey, what's up?" said Cassie as she opened the door to let the man in.

"Morning, I was looking for Y/n? is she still in the shower?" he asked as he looked around the bare room of the rented house where the scenes were being shot.

"Yup, she got some of it on her hair," said Cassie as she scrunched her nose. Jason huffed a laugh.

"I guess I would spend as much time in the shower if I had sperm all over my hair," he added as he took a seat on the bed, "I hope you don't mind if I wait here with ya?"

"Nah, it's fine." Cassie sat next to him as they heard your voice carry as you sang one of your favorite songs.

"So, why do you need to talk to Y/n?"

"I'm sure you and Y/n have seen Stark and I come in a couple of times," she nodded her head, "well, a couple of months ago he had to cut some people from his company and team, and he's been looking for new people and you and Y/n seem to have made an impression on him. And trust me, he rarely comes out to scout people, he has Maria Hill and Nick Fury for that."

"Wait, so you're saying that Stark wants Y/n?"

"Who wants me?" you asked as you opened the door of the bathroom, a bathrobe covering you as you used a towel to dry your hair.

"I was about to tell Cassie how Stark has personally made the time to speak with me, Joe, and Anthony so he can make a contract for you and Cassie," said Jason as he got up from the bed to face both of you and Cassie.

"What?!" you and Cassie shrieked at the same time.

"Stark has been talking to Joe and Anthony because you—" he pointed at you, "—are under contract with them, and he's been talking to me about you Cassie because he wanted to see the pictures you took of Y/n. He wants you to be part of his photography and video department."

It was silent.

Cassie sat still on the bed as she gaped at the man while you had stopped your movements with the towel still drying your wet hair. It seemed like a whole five minutes before you or Cassie moved or said anything.

"Are you pulling our legs?" you asked as you approached Cassie and sat next to her.

"I know, it sounds crazy, the man himself has been at our necks trying to make sure nothing can stop him from hiring you both," he said with a smile.

"Fuck," exclaimed Cassie as she finally looked at you. You looked at her with the same wide eyes.

"Yes."

"Excuse me?" said Jason as he looked at you. You had whispered your answer.

"Tell Stark we're in, we'll sign."

Jason smiled wider as he took his phone out of his pocket to call Tony.

Tony Stark had set up a meeting the next morning as soon as Jason had said the words 'they're in' to him. And so, the next morning, you and Cassie drove to the once 'Stark Enterprises' building which was now called 'Avengers Tower' which was the name Bucky had said the building was called. The building was tall, with numerous amount of floors that you both could only guess what they were for. Down on the first floor was only a front desk with a young woman.

"Good morning, how can I help you?" said the woman with an Irish accent.

"Morning, we're here for a meeting with Tony Stark," said Cassie with a smile. The woman asked for your last name as well as Cassie's before she let you take the elevator indicating to press 93 to arrive at Tony's office floor.

"I still can't believe we're here to sign a deal with Tony Stark so we both can work here. Like, my brain can process it still," you said as you shifted on your spot as your anxiety rose.

"You can't process it? Imagine me! I'm not even graduated and I'm about to have a job that is willing to take me even before I receive my damn diploma. Stark seems to be in a hurry if you ask me," said Cassie as she glanced at the changing numbers on the panel.

"I know, I mean Jason did tell you that he had lost some people, so maybe he's one of those people that can't be at peace if things are not to their liking, kinda like you," you said as you chuckled at the last part. As you conversed with Cassie, your nerves calmed. The doors opened announcing your arrival on the last floor of the building.

The floor was as spacious as the first floor, but this time the floor was part lobby—which was ridiculously fancy—and part Stark's office. The doors to his office were open, so he raised his head when you and Cassie came out of the elevator.

"The ladies of the hour," he said as he stood from his chair and walked around his desk as he approached you both while you two walked into his office. Which was fancy as well, full of weird tech gadgets.

"I'm glad the two of you decided to make a deal with me," he said as he signaled to the chairs in front of his desk.

You both took your seats as Tony walked over a small cabinet that to no one's surprised ended up being a wine cabinet.

"I know it's early, but would you two like a glass of wine? It's not every day I hire people," he said as he took out a wine bottle.

"Sure, why not," you said, and Cassie nodded. Soon, you three were sitting down and with a glass of wine in hand.

"Alright, so I know a lot about you Y/n which is why I know I want you to work for me. But you, Cassie, I don't know much about you aside from your work with photography. Do you know anything else aside from photography?"

Cassie cleared her throat as she felt all eyes on her.

"I know video editing, but my main focus has always been photography. I did take two semesters where I focused on digital design, but that was before I decided to just double major on photography and creative writing," she said.

"Creative writing?" he asked as he sipped his wine.

"Yeah, but that was because of the number of writing courses I had to take as GEN-ED courses and was recommended to just double major so I wouldn't have random credits," she said while she shrugged.

"So, you're good at writing?"

"Not as good as Miss almost-a-journalism-major over here," she said as she pointed at you, which made you groan. She knew how it annoyed you to be reminded of your failed attempts to make it through college.

You expected Tony to laugh along with Cassie who let out a chuckle at your reaction, but Tony looked at you with raised eyebrows but before you could ask anything, he smiled and pulled out two contracts along with two fountain pens.

"Well, I guess that's good to know because the position I want you to have involves a little of everything of what you do," he sat back on his chair, "I want you to be head of the department. The last person was fired because it turned out I was trusting the wrong kind of people, so this time I wanted something fresh to erase the mark they left and teach new things to those who stayed here. Your job, if you take it, will involve taking pictures of my starts when they work. I will have to work on the schedule that way you know who you'll be working with, sometimes you'll have another person with you because there are never too many pictures when they're good. You will also be asked to keep up with the video vlogs some of my starts have, you just gotta make sure they're submitting good things. You will have a team for that, you want a good video done, they'll do it, but you can always do it yourself if you want. And lastly, every year two of my departments come together for the yearly special issue but that is still months away, so no need to worry about it right now. So, Cassie, can I trust that you will be able to do this?"

You and Cassie were speechless at the number of things she would have to do. Your job was easy: act, fuck, and repeat. Hers? There's a reason why you dropped out of college, and she didn't. She could do it.

"I'll admit, it is scary the number of things I would be doing, but Mr. Stark, I can assure you that I will give my one-thousand-percent for this opportunity. I will not break that trust, sir."

She understood that it was serious, therefore you did try to hold a chuckle at how formal she sounded with him contrary to what she had sounded back at the party.

Tony took a minute to analyze Cassie's face before he gave a chuckle and grinned.

"Cassie, you have me convinced that I am making the right choice by adding you to my team," he pushed the contracts toward you both, one for you and one for Cassie, "Now, you Y/n, I already know I want you here and if I'm being honest, I have some people that were quick to tell me that you are one of the few that actually take this job seriously. It's hard to find that professionalism these days. So, here are the contracts. I know this was super last minute, so you can get comfortable outside and read them over. If you have any questions or want to go over any section of the contract, just walk right in."

With that, you both grabbed the contract. Cassie made herself comfortable on the big couch, she held a groan as the comfy couch could make her fall asleep within seconds, you opted for the lone sofa.

Neither of you could believe it was really happening, you were minutes away from signing with the brand that introduced you to this world, and Cassie was also minutes away from signing with the same brand she never thought she would be working for, and she was sure no other job would offer her an important position like the one Tony was trusting her with. It was all too surreal, yet it felt right. It felt like this was the right path and life had finally been kind enough to shed some light toward it.

While you were almost done with the contract, the last couple of pages talked about one of the offers/benefits if you worked for the company: living accommodations. You read over it carefully as it seemed like it was too good to be true. The building was not only the headquarters, but it also housed all the stars and the majority of the staff that work at the company. It was not mandatory, but each of the house-floors offered up to ten rooms, one full kitchen, one spacious common area, and each bedroom offered a personal full bathroom, and a spacious room with a queen-sized bed—which could be changed if you opted to buy a different one—and you could decorate the room however you wanted. Everything was paid for, there was no rent, but you would be in charge of your own groceries, necessities, and room furniture. The pay was good, the deal was great, the decision was made.

You showed Cassie what you had finished reading, and she had to read it from her contract to believe it. It was no surprise when she said that she would have to rent her apartment to the other college students because there was no way in hell she was going to pass out on living here along with you. Besides, the drive to the university was long from here.

Soon after that you both took a deep breath and signed the contract. Now, Tony needed to sign, and it would be a sealed deal.

You both, with grins on your face, walked in and Tony, upon seeing you both, clapped his hands and grabbed the contracts you both had set on the desk for him. He scanned it over and smiled when he saw that you both had signed for the living arrangements as well. He looked up with a bright smile.

"Well, only one thing left to do," he grabbed his pen and signed where he needed it. "Welcome to the family, you two are officially Avengers."

Before Tony could get up and serve some drinks to celebrate, the elevator announced the arrival of a new person. You all turned your heads to see Pepper walk toward where all of you were.

"Did they sign?" said Pepper as soon as she saw both of you, a smile plastered on her face.

Tony stepped around his desk and walked toward her.

"Yes, Pepper, they are officially part of the team," said Tony with a grin as he looked proud about landing a deal with you both.

"Those are great news because I already made a reservation at the new forties-themed restaurant down a couple of streets," she said as she looked happy about her actions, and she typed on her phone, and two dings were heard. You and Cassie pulled out your phones to see that Pepper had sent the address to the place.

"Nothing fancy, it's just going to be a small dinner, I'll have Jarvis pick you up at seven at your place—"she clasped her hands together and smiled, "—this is so exciting!"

By six-forty-five, the man named Jarvis—a man with a British accent and looks that had Cassie practically drooling—knocked on your door to take you both to the restaurant Pepper had made the reservations at.

The drive was quiet and quick, and soon enough you had arrived. Pepper stood outside as she waited for the car to park in front of her. Cassie opened her door before anyone could do it for her because she had an inkling that a minute too long and she would have Jarvis or Pepper open it for you and her.

She greeted both of you and guided you in as you three thanked Jarvis. The ambiance of the restaurant was beautiful and captivating that you couldn't but gape at the place. It wasn't fancy but it definitely gave that presence. Tony was waiting as he conversed with some of the people that had already arrived. You didn't recognize the people at first but soon your mind showed you where you knew them from. Some of them were definitely future co-stars while others were definitely people Cassie was going to work with as you had never seen them before.

He walked toward you when he spotted you, Cassie, and Pepper. He got up from his chair as he walked next to Pepper.

"Glad you're here, ladies," he said as he looked at the people who were now getting up from their chairs, "these are Y/n and Cassie."

A man named Bruce shook both of your hands with a shy smile, he said that he worked for the tech and art department. He was the one who helped create the sets for the movies as well as for the short films. Then another man introduced himself as Nick Fury who was the man in charge of casting—he was director—and then his second in command introduced herself as Maria Hill. Next came a woman who you knew as Captain Marvel, but her name was Carol. You couldn't help but blush at how pretty she was and not to mention the fact that you had a big crush on her. Lastly, Quicksilver and the Scarlet Witch introduced themselves as Pietro and Wanda. They were nice, and you couldn't help but feel that Pietro was being extra nice to you and Cassie.

The conversations started flowing as soon as Tony had said for everybody to take a seat as he announced that the others were soon to arrive. And within ten minutes everyone that had been invited came, which to you and Cassie was definitely not a small number of people to make Pepper's "small dinner" feel like one.

When everybody was seated, and Pepper had told Tony that no one else was arriving, he had the waiter serve a glass of champagne to everyone. Once the waiters had gone and served everyone, Tony stood from his chair and called for everyone's attention.

"Thank you, all of you, for canceling plans last minute as Pepper decided to do this impromptu dinner, but at the same time, this is a dinner that is important for all of us. As some of you know, a couple of months ago we hit a rough patch, some people got fired, and it left us in a hard spot. We had enemies amongst us, and they had been selling our ideas to those channels. I didn't know what to do, and I didn't want to hire anyone else that would cause more damage to this company, so I went out of my way and scouted people. It turned out, there's not a lot of people that impress me, but some weeks ago I had the pleasure of meeting two lovely ladies who managed to get me hooked—" he motioned with his hand to you and Cassie, "—Miss Y/n and Miss Cassie here, just today, signed their contracts and will be working with us pretty soon. Y/n will be joining my precious collection of starts while Cassie will be joining the post-production team as well with the photography department which she will hold the role of head of the department. I'm not big on adding new people to my company but I refuse to pass out on people I know will succeed here, so I want all of you to help them make themselves feel at home as they will be housed with us. So, if you could raise your glasses, I want to welcome you officially and warmly, Y/n Y/l/n and Cassie Ayers, to this one big dysfunctional family!"

Along with laughs and cheers, Cassie and you could hear the quick 'welcome' some people directed at the both of you. You two thanked Tony as he motioned his glass toward the both of you before gulping it down.

You both looked at each other before looking around at the people who tried to introduced themselves and or wanted to congratulate you both on being part of the company.

It all felt great, it felt right, and you were ready to live a life you felt good about.

Welcome to the Industry Taglist:

@ginger-haired-queen

@arianabrashierstuff

@stylessugarhigh

@hanaamara

@fckdeusername

@mimilie98

@duskangxls

Permanent Taglist:

@cnco-ravenclaw-46

@musiclover812

@teapartydreams

#+18 #Welcome to the industry #avengers #avengers au #steve rogers #bucky barnes #natasha romanoff #captain america #winter soldier #smut #reader #reader insert #multichapter #theravenclawlover #tony stark #wanda maximoff #pietro maximoff #peggy carter #sharon carter #peter parker #clint barton #pepper potts #angst #fluff #fanfiction #mcu #marvel #spiderman #thor #loki

[lvlyhao]

『127′s ideal type』

headcanons, NCT 127

A/N: je suis back~ in these headcanons i talk about the type of person i imagine each member with, along with some of the traits i think they wouldn’t be too fond of. i did NOT include physical traits (ex: “would like a short/tall/blonde s/o”) because i really don’t know them??? lmao also that kind of thing could be a bit damaging to someone’s self esteem, and i want yall to know ur perfect & beautiful so

mark and hyuck will be included in dream’s version of this, and sicheng will be in wayv’s :)

today’s gif theme is just random gifs i like bc idc, there’s no aesthetic

as always, this is gender-neutral

IF YOU LIKE MY WORK PLEASE REBLOG IT AS WELL AS LIKING IT T^T

𝓖𝓮𝓷𝓻𝓮𝓼: fluff (♡) and if you squint really hard angst (❆) bc of some REALLY small things that for me are not actual angst but oh well

𝓦𝓪𝓻𝓷𝓲𝓷𝓰𝓼: i think none?? if you read this and find something you think should be here let me know please!!!

word count: 1.5K

pairing: nct 127 members x reader (includes taeil, taeyong, johnny, yuta, doyoung, jaehyun, jungwoo)

disclaimer: the characters in the story below do not reflect real people or present real facts. this is purely fictional, and you may not copy, change, translate or repost my work in any way. all rights reserved © cherry-hyejin 2021.

*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:

Taeil

I see Taeil getting with someone who’s not only mature (personality-wise, actual age doesn’t matter) but also very determined and decisive. He’d like a person that doesn’t change their mind about things too often, learns well from their mistakes and is just all-around balanced. Other traits that I think he’d look for: politeness, a MUST; grounded; good at giving advice. Pretty much a twin-flame of his.

I think he’d find it cute if they think in a detail-oriented way and appreciate the small things in life. A positive, grateful mentality would be SO attractive to him, I swear. 

One of his deal breakers would most likely be excessive jealousy and possessiveness. He trusts you and your love for him, and I think he’d feel distraught if you were constantly questioning the relationships he has with other people (friends, co-workers, fans, etc.)

Last important thing: needs a person that can take a hit. He’s probably looking for someone he can spend the rest of his days with, so a quitter just isn’t good for that. There will be difficult moments in the future and he needs to know they won’t give up on him and on the life he chose.

Taeyong

I think Taeyong would like a calm person that knows how to take control of the relationship. He probably feels tired sometimes from leading a group of 23 people, so I can imagine he’d be thrilled if he was able to not worry at all when he’s around his partner. He trusts they’re capable of dealing with any problems that may arise and keep their feet on the ground. Bonus points if they have a good relationship with themselves.

By that I mean: you know how people say you can’t truly love others until you love yourself? Yeah, that. He’s a person like any other, and there are times when he struggles with self-love, but he needs someone that doesn’t hate themselves, or he’ll simply go crazy. With his career come so many rumours and moments that tear at his confidence… he just doesn’t need a person that has to be convinced every single day that they’re worthy of the good things in life. 

I’d say, in general, all he asks for is someone that can watch out for themselves. He’d take care of them too, but he’d like it SO much if just for once in his life he’s the one being cared for. Would just melt on the spot if you have that caring, almost parental instinct in you. Gods, yes. That’s all I can say.

Johnny

I can see him being with a very bright, smart person. He’d like someone that comes from a different background so he could learn more about their life—whether that means the country they were born in or their field of work. I think he would appreciate a very laid back person that doesn’t get stressed too often and won’t make fun of him for his bad jokes. Also, doesn’t like people that try to play him. Honesty above all.

He’d like it if they are super curious and creative, too. Picking up new hobbies and interests is something he’d be up to anytime, and it doesn’t matter what it is either. He’d give anything a try—from knitting to marine biology, no questions asked.

Something he’d dislike is if the person is too materialistic. It’s not like he’s a completely spiritual being and lives with 0 detachments to objects but he’s a firm believer in what Antoine de Saint-Exupéry said: what is essential is invisible to the eye. And, you know, what you truly find essential is up to you; it can mean family, friends, love, hope, all of that… he just wants you to love life itself as much as he does.

Yuta

He’d probably like one of the two drastic variants: a very gentle, sweet person or someone who’s on his level of flirtatiousness and boldness. Wouldn’t mind any, but he needs a strong personality, either way, you know? No blandness here. 

Something very attractive to him is being involved in social issues and caring for the world around you. Very sexc, yes, and also likes people that make others smile.

Something that would make him quite literally give up on someone is the excessive fear of change, or just the will to remain in their comfort zone at all costs. He earns for a person that wants to live life to its fullest. If not they’re not ride-or-die to that level, then he hopes they at least accompany and support him in all of the things he wants to do. 

One thing that is very tied to that is his dislike for know-it-alls. He lives in such a diverse scenario that it’s just dumb for him to think someone would ever be capable of knowing every piece of information on everything that’s out there. He’s fine with people making mistakes, but if they can’t admit to that or admit they don’t know something he just gets pissed off. So, yeah, he’d avoid stuck-ups.

Doyoung

He’d like someone very loyal and fair, who treats people with respect but calls them out if they ever have to. I think he’d prefer a person that is naturally a deep thinker and wouldn’t lose their mind over small disagreements. 

Much like Johnny, he likes that intellectual side of yours, and when I say that I don’t mean like “ah, he’d want to date a math genius” or something. No, no. I’m referring to all types of intellectuality and intelligence. The thing for him is simply using your brain and being proud of it. He would just dislike a person that kind of lives life on autopilot, you know?

He’d like it if they’re interested or professionally involved with music somehow and would consider their opinions in his career. He wouldn’t mind if their taste is hugely different from his, though. It’s alright if pop music is not your favourite or if you have no idea who EXO is (lol). All he wants is to see the world through your eyes too, in all aspects of life including this one.

Will also love you forever if you side with him when he’s being teased by the others, because, c’mon, it’s always 22 people against poor, defenceless Doyoung. Please don’t join them, he’s begging you—

Jaehyun

This is very, very clear to me but he needs to be with an independent person. He’s quite sentimental and he has his more romantic moments, sure, but he wants someone that can give him the space he needs when he needs it. A person that’s constantly begging him for attention would be way more of a burden than anything else.

Also, he’s 100% alright with someone that has a very explicit and loud love language (like saying “I love you” 300 times a day) but he’s not like that, and he needs them to see that. Jaehyun could NOT be with a person that doesn’t appreciate the love he shows in the little things, like making coffee in the morning, and if they ever question the way he feels… yeah, not good. He’d feel misunderstood and that’s a big no-no.

He’d find it cute if they’re bubbly or just very youthful but is also capable of falling for an old soul that shares his interests in things like classical music and vinyls. I don’t think he’d ever get with someone that's kind of a tech addict, though, idk why but that’s quite clear to me. Always being on your phone or caring too much about social media would probably make him feel like you’re not grateful for the things you have around you, in real life. So, yeah, not attractive, bestie.

Jungwoo

Jungwoo is a very, very, very sweet person and he needs someone who’s also like that. He wouldn’t care if that’s there for everyone to see, in the sense that they’re not shy about it, or if it’s a part of them that only a couple of close people know. As long as it’s there, he’s happy.

Aside from that, I think he’s fully capable of falling in love with quite literally anyone. He can see the beauty in all types of people, from all places, backgrounds, races, and just—anyone. He’s just so full of love for people, ah I can’t even. He’s too good for this world.

Some things that could, however, push him away from getting to know someone: a negative way of thinking, being too traditionalistic, and too much scepticism. He’s fine with people that like to honour the past and their roots but like, you’ve gotta keep up with the world you live in and accept that things change. I think that’s very tied to how much he likes defying masculine standards, too. 

The scepticism thing is quite simple: he can handle teasing just fine but if they’re constantly making fun of him for wearing his heart on his sleeve or being a bit goofy, he’d feel kind of betrayed.

---

final notes: this is the 3rd nct work i’m posting here and i’m already writing more, so i think it’s time i set up a masterlist, a fic rec blog and a tag list. if you want to be tagged in my future fics, let me know (dm, comments, anything) :)

#moon taeil #nct taeil #taeil x reader #taeil fluff #lee taeyong #nct taeyong #taeyong x reader #taeyong fluff #johnny suh #nct johnny #johnny x reader #johnny fluff #nakamoto yuta #nct yuta #yuta x reader #yuta fluff #kim doyoung #nct doyoung #doyoung x reader #doyoung fluff #jeong yoonoh #nct jaehyun #jaehyun x reader #jaehyun fluff #kim jungwoo #nct jungwoo #jungwoo x reader #nct 127 #nct 127 x reader #nct 127 scenario

[the-blackdale]

QoAaD in-betweens

Kit and Ty in the shadowmarket

Headcanons

Long post warning ⚠ ( I got carried away 😅)

✰ what could've happened in one of Kit and Ty's visits to the shadow market ✰

It was just past midnight, they have been wandering the market for nearly an hour with no luck. no one was ready to sell them necromantic supplies because quote we dont do buisness with shadowhunters unquote. Kit should be happy that this necromancy plan was failing, but the problem was ,that it made Ty sad, which intern made Kit sad. He has to do something about this .

They were in the dark magic sector of the market, Ty was beside him with his headphones on and checking the list of ingredients they needed. Thats when he saw Big Ben's shop. Big Ben was a werewolf who often bullied young vampires and mundanes in the market. A plan started forming itself in the back of his mind.

He turned to Ty, and told him his plan. Ty was quite confused,"why would we shoplift when we can buy it ?" "Because its fun Ty !! And he used to bully me when I was young,this is payback." "But.." "Ty pleasseeee....."

After some pleading, Ty agreed. no one could resist Kit when he uses his special puppy-eyes. The plan was simple.

Ty went to Big ben's shop and started looking around like a curious customer, He pointed to something in the back of the shop and that was Kit's cue. As soon as Ben turned around, Kit made his way to shop and extended his hand to grab the small vial labelled as 'incense from the heart of the volcano'.

He was about to put the vial in his jeans pocket, when he felt someone knock into him from behind. Damn the crowd today. He lost his balance and grabbed at the fairy lights which were dangling in the front of the shop. He could see Ty reach out towards him, but he was too late. Before Kit could realise he crashed into the table where all the fancy glass orbs were kept, and heard them all crash in a deafening tone to the ground.

Big Ben turned at the noise and saw the vial in Kit's hand.He started to move towards Kit, screaming things like "bloody thiefs". Ty who was at first shocked by the noise recovered quickly and knocked over a plotted plant off the counter which, thankfully, landed on Big Ben's feets.

They exchanged a panicked look and started running like no tomorrow, Kit in the front pushing people apart to make way for them. He saw other customers and shop owners look curiously at them, but it was a normal thing at the shadow market. He could her Big Ben screaming at them from behind, he was limping a bit, and occasionally jumping up and down clutching his injured leg with both his hands, it made his look like a kangaroo, and Kit couldn't help but burst out laughing at the thought.

They were still running when they reached the fairy section of the market, it was quite crowded and they have lost Being Ben somewhere in the way. Kit glanced behind him to check on Ty, his hood was up and his headphones were on his ears. His hair was all disheveled from the running and his face was flushed, he also had a smile on his face which caught Kit's breath away. That smile was missing after livvy's death, it was like there was no sunrise in Kit's life.

Kit was too distracted by Ty's smile,cause next he knew, he was knocking into someone who was holding a huge painting in front of their face. Quite clumsy for a shadowhunter. He stumbled backwards and crashed into Ty, who intern lost his balance and they both fell into a table which held many different kinds of candies and fairy fruits.

He could hear the screams of many fairies, which to be honest, were really shrill. The bowls were made from fairy wood, so thank god they didnt broke, but the candies were scattered everywhere.

He landed with his ankle above Ty's foot, and he had somehow managed to grab onto Ty's left sleeve when he was falling, which was a bad decision both because Ty doesnt like being startled, and Kit took Ty down with him when he was falling. He quickly left Ty's sleeve and looked up at the fairy who was selling those candies, they were shouting something is a language, which Kit was glad he didnt understood.

Ty was the first to recover, He stood up and extended a hand to Kit. Kit gladly latched onto Ty's hand and let himself be pulled up. The fairy was still shouting at them and making weird hand gestures at all the mess that was made of their candies. Kit glanced at his and Ty's linked hands . Ty's hands were soft and warm, they fit perfectly with Kit's.

Ty pulled lightly at Kit's hand to get his attention. wow, he really had zoned out in the middle of a mess thinking about his and Ty's joined hands. When Kit looked up at Ty, he had a mischievous grin on his face, Kit couldn't help but smile, he understood what Ty was trying to say.

they started running again, this time with Ty in the front and their hands still clasped together. Ok, he needs to stop thinking about his hand in Ty's, it was distracting ! They passed various stall with fairies in them, but no one payed them any attention.

Ty rounded a corner pulling Kit with him as they entered a small alley which was separated from the market by a beaded curtain. The noises from the market were muffled here, so Ty removed his headphones. Kit ignored the way his heart crumpled when Ty pulled his hand away from Kit's.

Ty bend over and put both his hands on his knees, he was breathing heavily but also laughing, this was the most fun he has ever had !! Kit was leaning against a wall, also breathing heavily but still with a smile on his face. They looked at each other for a moment and doubled over with a new wave of laughter.

when they could finally breathe, Kit took the vial of incense from his jeans pocket and threw it towards Ty, who expertly caught it and added it to their shopping bag with the other ingredients.

He was about to suggest that they walk to the main street where their Uber would pick them up, when Ty said," I got something for you".He reached into his hoodie pocket and took out a handful of candies. Rose flavoured. "I picked them when we crashed into the candy table" at that he looked down and Kit would've said that he was blushing if his cheeks werent already flush from all the running " I noticed you have a sweet tooth and thought that you would like these."

Kit couldn't help but smile, his heart was full of happiness and something else he couldn't pin point. The mere fact that Ty noticed was enought to turn him into a blushing teenage girl with a crush.

Ty was there, slowly breaking down everything he used to believe about his life and replacing it with something as beautifull and pleasant as a dream. Yet so real. It was like Ty set free a bunch of fireflies in his dark world and everything was suddenly glamorous and worth fighting for.

in this moment, in a deserted back alley with dull lights and muffled noises of a crowd, Kit fell a bit more in love with Ty, and Ty fell a bit more in love with Kit.

Tagging some moots,hope yall dont mind: @ghafa-dale @niathesanctuary-bolastair-kanej @autumnangel20 @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood @eutonyinwhisper @queenlilith43 @pink-party-dino @clarys-heosphoros @neo-lightchild-decafineator @will-herondale-my-beloved @dark-artifices-only @gabtapia

#headcanons #kit x ty #kitty #kit herondale #ty blackthorn #TDA #QoAaD #qoaad #shadowhunters #TSC #hope yall like it 👉👈 #the wicked powers

[satoruvt]

for now; forever

pairing → kwon soonyoung x reader

word count → 9015

genre → mostly fluff, angst ↳ tags: ooh boy. firewatch au, banter, like a little bit (a lot) of pining, strangers to friends to… something, FLIRTING, reader’s kinda fucked up but its ok, hoshi’s weird and endearing (as always), a tiny bit of hurt/comfort, minghao best boy, soonyoung is very sweet it makes me want to cry

synopsis → after an unfortunate burnout that lands you in every critic’s negative and all-seeing eye, you decide to take a break from the one thing you know. you’re not sure if you’ll find what you’re looking for out in the middle of the woods - if you’re looking for anything at all - but at the very least, soonyoung will make the hunt a little less lonely.

warnings → there’s eventually a forest fire (starts on day 64 and is mentioned throughout the rest of the fic) that leads to an evacuation but it’s not super detailed, mentions and descriptions of creative burnout/breakdown

a/n → IT’S FINALLY HERE!!! i made a fancy banner nd everything <3 i know 9k isn’t a lot to some people but this is probably the longest one shot i’ve ever written LMAOO so i hope it’s paced ok and everything <33 PLEASE let me know what yall thought about this i am insanely proud of it. ok thats it hehe. hope you enjoy!!! see u on the other side!!!!

btw here’s a fun playlist of songs i listened to while writing mixed with some songs i think reflect the fic super well <33

DAY ONE.

So. You’re… out here, now.

Save for the bugs you have to swat at every fifteen seconds, the outdoors doesn’t seem that bad. The weather isn’t too hot (yet, your mind reminds you) and there’s something about the color of the sky that makes your heart constrict in your chest. You can’t tell if it’s good or bad, but given your luck recently, you’re hoping it’s not a warning for the coming months - God knows you need a break. The weight of the journal in your bag feels heavier than any of the camping gear you brought with you.

You debate texting Minghao that you’ve made it to the park safely, but when you check your phone after deciding yes, you see the words no service instead of the familiar lines of a signal. It’s not that big of a deal - you’d told him when you left that you probably wouldn’t have service at all - but a little part of you feels the tender shake of anxiety at the thought of not being able to contact your best friend. 

He was the most worried out of everyone when you told him you were leaving for the summer. You can’t really blame him - it was abrupt, you saw the flyer at the grocery store and took it - but after what happened… doing something felt, feels, better than sitting around and waiting for nothing to happen. Waiting for a healing you aren’t sure will ever come, at least not completely.

“Is this really…” Minghao had started upon first entering your apartment after getting your text. Clothes were thrown all over your bedroom floor in an attempt to pack. “Do you need to do this?”

The tone of his voice told you he wasn’t going to try to stop you, that he just wanted to make sure this was what you needed. You had only nodded, sitting down on the edge of your bed to fold clothes and pack them into your suitcase.

“I just don’t want you to run away from it all,” Minghao said softly, sitting next to you. “You’ll need to face it eventually.”

“Is escaping really such a bad thing?” You asked, looking at Minghao. He gave you the look he did when you said something stupid, and if you weren’t still so wired from everything, you might have laughed. Instead, you sighed, placing a pair of pants into your suitcase. “I just need some time.”

Before you can face it, before you can come back, before you can write again… you still don’t know. Minghao had placed a kind hand on your shoulder to tell you there was no rush.

It’d taken no more than two days for you to get everything ready - including buying some apparently necessary survival equipment from Target. In a matter of a few hours you had gathered everything up, texted some other friends and your family that you might not be available the next few months and then… you left. 

(Your manager was pretty pissed off that you left so suddenly, but she was also pissed off at you when you told her you needed a break for at least a few weeks, so you’re not really offended.)

You take one last longing look at your car before locking it, pocketing the keys, and starting on your hike.

The hike takes almost the whole day. 

You think you almost cry when you finally see the watch tower you’re supposed to be staying in, your legs barely able to hold the rest of your body up. The hike wasn’t hard, really - long, though, and for someone who usually spends a work day sitting at a desk, you’re surprised you’re still alive. You find the little lock that holds the keys to the tower at the bottom of the stairs, fastened onto the railing. It takes a few seconds for you to enter the code you’d been given earlier, relishing in the soft breeze the cools the sweat on your face and neck. The sun is just barely starting to set beyond the mountains, a beautiful sight that you can’t properly focus on because all you want to do is pass out. You’re pretty sure you almost do on your way up the stairs.

The cabin at the top of the tower is pretty scarcely furnished, save for a few basic necessities (a gas stove rests on one wall, a small desk opposite to it by the door, a mini-fridge, and a bed in the corner plus what looks like a map table in the center of the room). It’s a little weird, a feeling caught between the nostalgia of moving into a new place and something you can’t quite name, but you figure you have a few months to make it all a little more comfortable.

For now, though, you feel like you’re on the last leg of your energy. Your mind is saying eat, sleep, eat, sleep on repeat and you have to agree with it, so you change the sheets on the bed, take down the boards over the windows while you wait for the macaroni from the Kraft box to cook. You end up eating a few forkfuls of poorly-made mac and cheese before crashing.

When you wake up, it’s to gentle static and a semi-clear, unfamiliar voice. It takes you a minute to remember where you are and what you’re doing, too disoriented to even think about the voice, but then - oh. Forest. Watch tower. Escape. Okay.

“Yo, Cottonwood! Am I coming through okay? Pick up your radio!”

Right. The voice. Radio?

“Come on, I saw you get in yesterday, I know you’re there. Unless,” a gasp, “you died! Oh my God, this is like a horror movie… and I’m next!”

You manage to wake up enough to locate your radio (a walkie-talkie resting on a charger on the desk) and, after a few seconds of gentle struggle, work it. “Not dead,” you say, then clear your throat because your voice does not sound good right after waking up. “I mean… almost. But not dead.”

There’s barely a moment of hesitation before the person on the other end hoots, apparently excited. “Arisen from the dead! Brought back to life by none other than the legendary Hoshi!”

A brief thought crosses your mind about having to listen to this guy all summer, but you quickly shoo it away. You won’t have to deal with it for the whole three months, right? “Who… who is Hoshi?”

“Me!” The voice answers, sounding a little too smug. “But it’s really just an alias. You can call me Soonyoung. I’m at Twin Peaks tower, west of yours!”

You spin around your cabin, looking through the windows cluelessly - how long have you been asleep, it’s practically afternoon - until you see a very small silhouette of another tower in the distance. You nod, then realize Soonyoung can’t see you. “Oh. Cool.”

“Aren’t you gonna tell me your name?” Soonyoung asks, but his tone is light, breezy. You blink, reciting your name to him in a daze. “Pretty! So, what brings you out here?”

You weren’t expecting that question. “What?”

Soonyoung giggles into the radio. “Everyone comes out here for some reason. Like… Jihoon says it’s ‘cause it helps him write music. And Joshua loves the outdoors, so… what’s your reason?”

“You…” you start, not exactly wanting to tell a stranger the reason you ran away from everything you know. “Do you normally ask this many questions?”

“Yeah!”

You feel yourself sigh, already tired again.

“I… just wanted to get away for a while,” you end up saying. A half-truth. “I live in the city.”

“No way,” Soonyoung gasps excitedly. “Me too! I wonder if both of us have ever been walking and, like, passed each other without knowing…”

This isn’t exactly what you had in mind when you thought of escaping.

DAY TWO.

The next morning, you dedicate time to getting a little more settled into your home for the next few months. You didn’t bring a lot of decor - you didn’t think you needed any - but even seeing your blanket on the bed and a few books you need to catch up on reading stacked on the desk makes the place feel a little bit more like you. You eventually reach the journal you packed (that Minghao made you pack) and stare at it like it might do something. Like it might tell you to write again, or like it might tell you to leave everything behind. You don’t really know what you want from it.

A sing-songed version of your name comes from your radio and you blink away from the journal, set it down on the desk. “Good morning!” Soonyoung says from the other end, and you feel yourself take a deep breath as you pick up your radio and press down the button so he can hear you.

“Morning, Soonyoung,” you respond, calm compared to his excitement. 

“So… what are your plans for today?”

“Um,” you pause, brows furrowed, looking towards the direction of his tower even though you know he can’t see you. “Looking out for fires?”

“That’s boring,” is Soonyoung’s immediate response, and you laugh a little.

“Kinda my job for a while.”

And listen, you’ve known Soonyoung for less than a full 24 hours, but even before your brain really comprehends what he’s saying you know you’re not going to like it. “Wait, that reminds me,” he says, tone of his voice a little less overexcited puppy. “What did you do before this? Or, like, what’s your career? I mean, you don’t have to answer, I just thought it could be a way for us to get to know each other…”

His voice fades away for the split second you remember a little too much all at once, but somehow your voice still sounds put together when you speak. “Nothing special,” you say. There’s a pause when you don’t elaborate any further, but instead of asking about it, Soonyoung changes the subject.

“Okay!” he says, back to a more playful tone. “Anyways, I asked about your plans ‘cause I kind of need you to do something for me.”

“Already asking favors?” you tease. “We just met, Soonyoung.”

You hear him laugh, loud and hearty, and it’s contagious even through a radio line so you feel your own smile pull at your lips. “One of the other lookouts found some teenagers with fireworks,” he informs you. “I need you to meet him and get the fireworks from him.”

Your feet are already in your shoes, one halfway tied. “You can’t do this?”

Soonyoung’s voice is strangely thoughtful, but you catch a hint of mischief at the end of his sentence. “I would, but Jihoonie said he’d eat me if I tried to see him again and I think he’s serious this time.”

He tells you where the other lookout - Jihoon - should be and gives you a quick lesson on how to properly use your map to get there. You’re not really excited for another hike this early on (you’re still sore from even getting up here) but by the time you meet the halfway mark you’re convinced it’s not that bad. It’s neither long nor challenging, and… well, Soonyoung’s insistent on keeping you company the whole time. 

When you see what looks like a guy at the edge of a now-abandoned camp, you tell Soonyoung you’ll radio him when you’re on your way back to your tower. “Hey,” you call out as you get closer. The man looks up at you, his eyes sharp but not unkind. “Jihoon?”

“Yeah,” he replies. Under his cap you notice that his hair is a gentle silver, almost purple. He’s dressed casually, like you, and you suppose it’s a given since there’s no exact dress code for this job.  “You’re the newbie?”

You didn’t know people knew about you. “I.. I guess,” you say, then tell him your name.

“Cool,” Jihoon says, voice flat like he’s distracted. He picks up the bag next to his feet and hands it to you. “Take these. Thanks.”

He starts to walk away, down a trail opposite the direction you came, but you think of earlier, when Soonyoung asked about your job (or when he didn’t). You call after Jihoon, hesitate, but then opt to make this quick since he looks like he’d rather be anywhere but here. “Have you and Soonyoung… known each other for long?”

Jihoon turns around. He shrugs, then nods. “We met in college, a few years ago.”

“What kind of person is he?”

You watch in vague amusement as Jihoon’s nose scrunches up, but the small smile on his face refuses to hide and it makes you giggle. “Really annyoing,” he tells you, then pauses for a second like he’s looking for the right words, “kind of overwhelming sometimes. But he’s good. He’s someone you want around.”

Someone you want around, your brain repeats to you. You nod with a friendly smile as you haphazardly stuff the fireworks in your hiking bag. “Okay. Thank you.”

Jihoon offers an acknowledging nod of his own before continuing on his way back to his tower. You’re about five minutes into your hike back to yours when your radio sounds from your pocket with a now-familiar voice.

“Are you on your way back?” Soonyoung asks. “You forgot to tell me!”

“Sorry, yeah, I am now. I was talkin’ to Jihoon for a second.”

“Really? That’s weird. He rarely talks to anyone, especially strangers. What’d you talk about?”

You can’t help the small smile that lands on your face as you speak. “Stuff to blackmail you with.”

You think you hear Soonyoung’s groan all the way from his tower, and your smile only grows when it turns into a laugh.

DAY FIVE.

The clouds look dark today.

They haven’t covered the sun completely yet, but they’re closing in fast. You hope that it rains, already sick and tired of the disgusting heat, but also. Something else.

Rainy days always used to be the best to write, your brain supplies to you. You brave a glance at the still-unopened journal on the desk, thinking that maybe…

Your radio turning on drags you away from the crack in metaphorical door, coming at the perfect time as if to tell you that you’re not ready yet. You listen to it, grab the radio, murmur a greeting to Soonyoung.

“It’s getting pretty dark out, huh?” He says. He must be looking at the sky, too.

“Yeah,” you hum. “Hopefully the storm isn’t too bad.”

The line goes quiet, but you know that Soonyoung’s still there even if he isn’t saying anything. The knowledge comforts you, just a little.

“Well... got any rainy day stories?”

DAY SEVENTEEN.

“So, Soonyoung,” you call into your radio as you step outside. You’ve taken advantage of the small balcony around the entire cabin, setting up a few chairs you found in the storage unit at the bottom of the tower (just in case someone stops by, you tell yourself) and a small table you weren’t using inside. The nights are hot but still relaxing, and you find yourself sitting outside often, catching up on reading or taking in the stars. 

“I can’t believe you radioed me first,” Soonyoung responds, and you hear the smugness in his voice. “I’m so happy!”

Soonyoung somehow almost always manages to be with you in the nights, too, even if not physically. Being away from the urban civilization you’re used to has been a little difficult to adjust to, but you feel significantly less alone whenever you hear him calling you. You tell him to be quiet even though both of you are laughing. The distant crickets make your chest warm.

“What do you do? You didn’t tell me before,” You ask him after a second. There’s a small wave of anxiety that rushes over you at the idea that he might call you out about when he asked you the same thing. That was two weeks ago, though, you think, and Soonyoung wouldn’t. You’re sure he’s been able to tell that it’s a touchy subject. You’re not as discreet as you think you are, even if (and you’ve learned this the past few weeks) Soonyoung’s a bit more on the oblivious side sometimes.

“I dance!” 

Somehow, despite having not even seen what he looks like, it’s fitting. “Like… teach, or choreograph, or…”

“A little of everything,” Soonyoung tells you, and then starts elaborating. His voice echoes through your radio and you look up at the stars as you listen to him, trying to map out constellations from memory. He sounds so excited to simply talk about it, you can’t imagine what he must look like when he’s actually on stage. You hope you get to see it one day.

“You’ll have to teach me something sometime,” you say once he’s finished, voicing your thoughts. With a giggle that sounds like the stars above you, he tells you he’d love to.

A moment of quiet passes, spent focusing on the tiny specks of fireflies you see in the field around your tower and feeling the summer breeze as it passes. The words slip out of your mouth with much less resistance than you thought they would.

“I used to write,” you murmur into your radio. It takes you a moment to register the heavy beat of your heart, like you just got back from a run.

“Used to?” Soonyoung asks, curious but soft.

“For now,” you answer. The ache you’ve become familiar with throbs in your chest. “Hopefully not forever.”

It’s not the whole story - not even close - but you figure you might be able to tell him with time. The thought stresses you out even when you have nothing to stress about, and you think Soonyoung is psychic because he says, next, “the stars are really pretty tonight.”

You’re not looking at the sky when you answer. Your head is tilted in the direction of his tower. 

“They really are,” you say.

DAY THIRTY-THREE.

You’ve fallen into a bit of a routine with Soonyoung. 

Not a day goes by where you don’t talk to him - the one day you radioed and he didn’t pick up you genuinely thought something happened to him, seconds away from calling a park ranger. Right before you actually did it, though, he picked up his radio and said he had been taking a nap.

(His voice was a little groggy from sleep, sounded like he was pouting whether he meant to or not and you’d be lying if you said the thought didn’t make your heart skip a few beats - but if anyone asked, you’d definitely lie about it.)

One of you calls the other around the same time every morning and you don’t put down your radio until the sun is well behind the mountains. You’ve grown used to his presence, in a way, even if you can’t really feel him with you (though sometimes you swear you can). It’s comforting to have him out there with you, and it’s been so long since you’ve talked to someone the way you do with Soonyoung… you find yourself looking forward to every morning, waiting for when you hear him over your radio.

Today is no different.

Well, in an unrelated way, it is - you have to hike to a supply box to get your surplus of food for the next month and a half you have left. But even as you’re doing inventory of what you have left in your cabin on a piece of paper, you’re waiting for Soonyoung’s usual good morning. It comes as always, makes you smile when you hear it.

“Good morning!” 

You leave your scratch paper on your desk and reach for your radio. “Morning,” you say after you’ve pressed the button down. 

“So…” Soonyoung trails off. “Supply drop day.”

“Yeah,” you reply, sitting on your bed.

“Both of us are getting crates of food today…”

What is he getting at? “Uh-huh…?”

“Both of us… getting supplies… from the same place.”

A confused laugh leaves your lips. “Soonyoung, what is your point?”

Even for as often as you talk to him, you’re still always surprised when he starts yelling. “Let’s meet up!” he exclaims, obviously excited, and it clicks in your head.

“Oh my God, can we do that?” 

“Yeah!” Soonyoung sounds like he’s grinning, smile palpable in his voice. “If we pull some strings with the other lookouts and get hiking at the right time, it’s totally possible.”

Holy shit. Your heart is beating wildly, butterflies swarming around it at the thought of meeting Soonyoung in person. “Okay,” you tell him, noting that you sound a little breathless. “Okay, yeah, let’s do it.”

It takes a few minutes to work everything out - the supply boxes should be dropped off by midday, so you can leave your tower around then and get to the drop location in a little over an hour. Soonyoung has to leave earlier than you since he’s farther away, but if everything goes well the two of you should get to the drop location close to the same time, margin of error small. You radio Jihoon to cover for you while you’re out, and he agrees, although he sounds a bit miffed.

When you finally leave for your hike, you’re not expecting how quiet it is. Soonyoung’s usually there to cover it up with his voice - you don’t hike often (you’ve not had to, given your job for the summer is to watch for fires) but whenever you have he’s been there to keep you company. You plug in your earphones about halfway through your trip just to drown out the quiet, something more to listen to than just trees and the sound of your own footsteps.

Eventually you make it to the supply box, and, well. There’s a guy. Standing in front of a long, green box - you think you see lookout tower names engraved ever few inches: Thorofare, Cottonwood, Twin Peaks. Packing some ready-to-eat meals into his backpack.

Holy shit, Soonyoung? your brain automatically asks, and it sends your heart spiraling up and down. You’re not sure what you thought he looked like, but it wasn’t this. Tall, lean - wait, you don’t even know if this is actually him yet.

Before you can think too much about it, you call out, voice tentative. “Are you… Soonyoung?”

The man turns around, shakes his head with a kind smile. “No,” he says. “I’m Joshua.”

You think about throwing yourself into the river by your tower when you get back for absolutely no reason. Somehow you manage a polite smile and a gentle sorry.

“No, don’t apologize, you’re fine!” Joshua chirps, adjusting the cap on his head. “You’re looking for him?”

You pause. Those aren’t the exact words you would use, but they’re not technically wrong, so you nod. After all, you don’t know what he looks like (you probably should have asked him before both of you left, but you weren’t expecting another person to be here).

“Please don’t tell me he got lost again,” Joshua says, suddenly looking tired, and you look back at him wide-eyed because... again? Has this happened before?

“No,” you tell him. “No, I mean, I don’t think so. I don’t know. Since we both have to pick up supplies he thought it’d be cool if we met up in person.”

Joshua sighs, seemingly relieved, then continues packing what’s left of his supplies into his backpack as he hums. “That’s weird.”

“What is?”

He shrugs. “Soonyoung likes the outdoors, yeah, but the supply box is a pretty far hike from his tower. I think the last few summers he’s had them delivered.”

Oh, you think, and maybe say out loud, because then Joshua’s looking back at you, a mischievous smile on his face. 

“He must really like you to come all the way out here,” he tells you, and you laugh like it might get rid of all the thoughts popping up in your mind that you keep telling yourself to stop thinking about.

“And yet,” you say wistfully, looking towards the horizon. “I still come second to Jihoon.”

This time Joshua laughs, a friendly sound, and the two of you fall into a playful conversation. He’s somewhat a superior of yours, though not by a far gap - as the lookout who’s been on the job the longest, he oversees the rest of you (which is you, Soonyoung, Jihoon, and a few others you have yet to come across). You get along with him easily and it’s weird to think that if you hadn’t gone through what you did a few months ago you wouldn’t be here talking to him, establishing what could be a new friendship. You wonder if that’s a new step towards healing, finding a way to be grateful even if it was horrible.

You talk to Joshua for a while until he says he should get back to his tower. You nod, tell him goodbye (and thanks for his company) and he starts to walk away -

“Shua!”

A burst of platinum blonde hair rushes past you from the opposite direction you came from, heading for Joshua. The new guy drops a bag at his feet and almost softly crashes into Joshua, who has this look on his face you can’t really decipher.

“Hey, Soonyoung,” he says, and you blink.

Soonyoung, like… your Soonyoung? The Soonyoung you’ve been talking to for weeks?

You watch as the two hug, Soonyoung excited to see Joshua and completely ignoring you (though you’re not sure he’s doing it intentionally). All you can do is stand there. This is him, your brain keeps telling you. This is the guy.

“I haven’t seen you in forever!” Soonyoung exclaims, bouncing on the balls of his feet excitedly. “How are you? How have things been?”

Joshua shrugs, a small smile on his face as he puts a gentle hand on Soonyoung’s head and starts… petting. “I’ve been good, same old deal. I know that you’ve been doing good too, though, as far as I’ve seen from your reports.”

Soonyoung beams at the praise and you take note of it in the back of your mind (you also note the way Joshua’s treating him like a toddler and how it’s working). He opens his mouth to say something else but looks around and meets your eyes - for a second there’s nothing at all, but then you think you see an exclamation mark actually pop above his head.

The yell of your name is so loud it makes you jump. “Oh my God,” Soonyoung whines, falling to his knees dramatically. “I can’t believe I didn’t recognize you!”

“This is the first time you’ve seen me,” you say. You can’t seem to hold back your smile.

Joshua excuses himself (again) and finally moves on his way, says he’s in Thorofare lookout if anything happens. The sun is mellow on your skin as you look at Soonyoung, take him in - light hair, warm eyes, tan skin. His smile matches your own. A breeze shifts by, slow and sweet.

“Hi,” you say.

Soonyoung grins.

“Hey.”

-

So the bag you saw Soonyoung drop on the ground before was, in fact, for a picnic.

He didn’t bring a lot of food (the whole point of the hike was to get supply boxes anyways) aside from a few candy bars he’d saved for today. He did bring a blanket, however, and the two of you set everything up on the edge of a rock not too far away from the drop location, under some trees. It looks over a small ravine, a stream cutting through at the bottom. 

The time goes by like it was never there in the first place, spent talking and laughing. Soonyoung is just as animated in person as you thought he’d be, telling stories wildly as the two of you snack away a portion of your supplies. You know the two of you don’t have much time together, given how late it already was when Soonyoung arrived and both of your hikes back to your respective towers, but it’s still… refreshing, almost, to be with him like this, to finally get a piece of him you didn’t before. To hear him without the crackle of the radio and to see him.

To see him.

Something stirs in your chest when you look at him lying back on the blanket, arms supporting his head with his eyes closed. The sun lights up his skin in a golden glow, like honey, and the dark roots growing into his blonde hair are somehow endearing. The breath leaves your lungs when you finally label him as pretty. You hope you can blame the heat in your cheeks on the sun.

“I wish we could stay like this forever,” Soonyoung sighs, still not opening his eyes. You almost reach out to brush the hair away from his face, but a breeze comes by and does it for you. You hope it’s not a sign.

“It would be nice, huh,” you murmur in response. You finally break your gaze from Soonyoung and lean back on your hands, soaking up the feeling of the blue sky.

It’s now that you remember what Joshua had said earlier about Soonyoung usually getting his supplies delivered, and you turn back to him. “Hey, before you got to the supply box, Joshua and I were talking.” Soonyoung hums in acknowledgement. “Is the hike from your tower to here really that bad?”

His voice strains as he stretches, opening his eyes to look at you. “I mean, yeah, it’s a bitch of a hike to take sometimes. But it’s not really hard except for a few spots, just long.”

You furrow your brows. When you agreed to meet him, you didn’t think it’d be this much trouble for him. “And you came all this way so we could… what, sit here and eat? Like we do most of the time anyways? Just separately?”

Soonyoung pouts at you and you feel personally attacked. “Food tastes good when you’re with other people.”

You give him a soft, semi-playful glare, and Soonyoung offers a small giggle. You turn back towards the view in front of you.

“Did you not want me to come down?” He asks, and he doesn’t sound… sad, really, more observant. Like he wants to know where you’re at.

“No,” you answer almost immediately (Jesus, your brain says). “I just… it’s a long trip. It doesn’t really seem like it’s worth the effort.”

Like I’m worth the effort, you think to yourself. 

You hear Soonyoung shuffle behind you and turn around to look at him again, finding him sitting up straight. “It is to me,” he tells you, and there’s something in his eyes that holds you in your spot. The tips of his fingers brush against yours on the blanket. You’d look down if you didn’t think you’d miss something. “I wanted to.”

In a second, it clicks.

-

It’s not much longer until Soonyoung needs to start heading back. The two of you get your things together, and you help him pack up the picnic supplies he brought. When everything’s said and done and the two of you are back by the supply box, there’s a second of uncharacteristic quiet that falls over you.

“Let me know when you get back,” you say after a moment. Soonyoung grins.

“You’re worried about me!” he swoons, and you hit him on the shoulder playfully, but don’t deny it. It can be dangerous out there, and even if Soonyoung has been out here longer than you, anything can happen. 

“Just radio me, okay?”

Soonyoung smiles, something a little softer from before. He nods. “I will. You be safe too.”

You nod in return, taking a few steps back towards the trail that leads back to your tower. “Talk to you later, Hoshi.”

The last you see of him before you turn around is the grin on his face.

DAY THIRTY-FOUR.

It feels like forever since you’ve been here.

A window is open and welcomes a distant ambiance of the forest around you, trees and birds and animals. The journal you brought with you is open to the first page, but remains untouched - nothing on the pages. At least, not yet.

(The not yet you always tell yourself seems closer, this time, not so far away. Within reach, or at least within reason.)

Soonyoung had called in that the hike from yesterday had worn him out and he needed a nap. You had laughed fondly at how tired he sounded, told him to sleep well and that you’d be waiting for him. And you feel the words, right at your fingertips, the way the rest and wait to be written. Their presence is both terrifying and reassuring. 

You don’t think they’ll be able to bleed out correctly, not the way they used to since it’s been so long. But they’re there, in your mind, in your heart. 

You pick up the pen you got out, feel the weight of it as you click it a few times. You tap it on the desk once, twice, and then.

You take a deep breath and start to write.

DAY SIXTY-FOUR.

“Are you lookin’ at the fire?”

Your eyes leave the page of your book at Soonyoung’s voice crackling from the radio, looking around your cabin windows to see that, oh, there is a fire. You’d kind of forgotten that it’s… literally your job. At least there are multiple lookouts.

You fold the corner of the page you’re on as a makeshift bookmark before closing the book and setting it down on your bed as you stand to get your radio. You grab a can of soda from the mini-fridge you’ve started to utilize (as best you can, given it does a mediocre job at keeping things cool) before walking out onto the deck, sitting in one of the chairs you set up. “Now I am,” you tell Soonyoung as you adjust the chair so it faces the direction of the fire. You think you’re the closest lookout to it - which makes the fact that you didn’t notice it even worse - but not in any danger. The smoke paints the evening sky red-orange, washing over the purples and blues the sun used earlier as it set. “You’ve called it in?”

“Yeah, told Josh, who told the higher-ups,” Soonyoung responds, voice strangely… solemn? He sighs his next words. “They’ll probably send a crew in for suppression by morning.”

“Is there a reason you sound sad about putting a potentially dangerous forest fire out?” You tease, cracking open your soda and taking a sip. The carbonation feels good in your mouth, pops on your tongue.

“I’m not!” Soonyoung denies after some sputtering, and you laugh. “Just… ugh, looking at it - I’ve worked here every summer for the past, like, five years, and I’ve only ever seen two fires. Three, counting this one.” His voice gains a certain softness, like he’s lost in thought. “I don’t want the place to burn down or anything, but… don’t you think it’s kind of beautiful?”

It’s a little morally ambiguous, but as you look at the distant, licking flames you have to agree. In the dark, it’s vibrant, more than just ashy smoke and the smell of burning - it glows red, flushes out silhouettes of the trees in between it and you.

“I guess it is,” you hum into your radio as you stare at it.

“So. What should we name it?”

“The fire?”

“Yes,” Soonyoung says, dramatic as always. “She needs a name! I’ve always given them names, but I’ll let you do the honor this time.”

There’s something sweet in the way he offers you the chance to name it, and you try not to dwell on it too much. “Ah,” you start, thinking for a moment. “Barbara. The Barbara Fire.”

Soonyoung howls out a laugh and it’s infectious; you feel the tugging of your lips into a grin. “That is the worst thing that has ever come out of your mouth,” he says, and you roll your eyes. “We are not naming it the Barbara Fire.”

You huff out a fake whine. “Come on, it’s just Barb! She’s beautiful.”

“But deadly,” Soonyoung adds in a voice that sounds like it came straight out of a crime documentary. It makes you giggle, the two of you throwing around silly, stupid names.

“Okay, okay,” you say after a few minutes. “Then… hmm, the Hoshi Fire.”

There’s a long, long pause, and you hold down the button to your radio again. “Uh oh, is he broken?”

Soonyoung’s voice comes through, joking, but you sense a pinch of sincerity. “You want to name a raging forest fire after me… I feel like I shouldn’t be happy but I kind of am.”

You remember to push the button as you laugh, looking directly at the fire and shouting, “I hereby dub thee… the Hoshi Fire!” as loud as you can.

After the laughter dies down, for a second, there’s quiet - not awkward or for the sake of a bit, just quiet. Soonyoung’s not telling a story, you’re not giving witty comebacks. It’s just the two of you and the fire, alone in the forest.

It breaks eventually. Soft, gentle. “I’m glad you’re out here, you know,” Soonyoung says.

His words make you stiffen and relax all at once, and almost on instinct you look in the direction of his tower. You can’t really see the silhouette - the sun too far gone, taking the last of its light with it - but you know it’s there, can pinpoint exactly where it should be. You hope Soonyoung’s looking over at you, too.

And even if the reason you’re here in the first place is still a tender bruise to be pressed, you find yourself recovering a little more every day. “I am, too,” you respond. “I… I wish you were over here.”

It’s a roundabout way to say I miss you, but a part of you thinks neither of you are ready for something that explicit. You reach a hand out in the direction of Soonyoung’s tower, grasping at it like it might bring him to you. It’s not as if you can’t meet up with him again, but… between the distance and the fact that there’s an actual fire to keep your eye on, it certainly wouldn’t be easy. This is the closest you can get for now.

“I wish I was too,” Soonyoung says. You close your eyes to picture him, pretty smile and fond eyes. “We could hang out, like last time.”

“Without the radios,” you add. 

“We could, um… you know.”

His words make you giggle, and you feel a little lucky that you’re not holding down the button. Your heart is pounding in your chest, nervous but stable, secure, as you reply. A welcomed beat, even if startling.

“No, I don’t,” you tell him. Your soda sits forgotten, half-empty, on the floor of the deck by your feet. You don’t bother paying attention to the fire. “What could we do?”

Soonyoung groans and this time you laugh pushing the button so he can hear you, warm and affectionate. “Don’t tease me! You know what I’m talking about.”

You do. “What could we do, Soonyoung?”

There’s a pause, but you know he’s still there.

“Well,” he says eventually. “Let me tell you.”

DAY SEVENTY-SIX.

The fire’s gotten big.

You feel like you shouldn’t be surprised by it - it’s a wildfire, they’re not exactly easy to contain, but seeing it up close like this is vastly different from being in a city and barely even noticing the smoke. It is larger than life out here, consuming more and more of the forest each day. The last few days you’ve spent inside due to the low visibility (though it’s not as if you take a hike every day anyways). It makes you wonder if it’s safe to stay out here.

“...Hey,”  Soonyoung radios in. “I have a question for you.”

Rationally, you know whatever it is, it can’t be that serious. But your heart picks up pace anyways, beats a little harder as you pick up your radio to respond. “Look, it was Jihoon’s idea to use the fireworks, I promise neither of us knew it would start the fire.”

Soonyoung sputters out a laugh and you match him, feeling yourself calm down. “I’ll… I’ll ask Jihoon about that later, but - I really do have something to ask you.”

You lay down in your bed, unmade and messy. “Is it… bad?”

“I don’t think so,” Soonyoung responds. “Maybe?”

“Okay…” you say, timid. “Shoot.”

“When you first got here, I asked why you took the job,” he says, and you nod to yourself, remembering the first call you got from him. “You just… never really responded. I get it if it’s, like, a touchy subject, I don’t want to pressure you at all…”

“No,” you interrupt before you realize what you’re saying. You take a deep breath, Soonyoung waits. “No, it’s probably… it might be good to talk about it. I’ll tell you.”

He murmurs an okay, tells you to take your time and you do. It’s not like you’re scared to tell him - you’ve come to trust him, you know he won’t judge you for anything that happened or think any differently of you. You’re not even sure that’s why it’s hard for you to talk about - rather than any sort of outside force that might affect you, it’s more… more of a part of you that you felt you lost. It’s more coming to terms - even after these months - and going through the motions. It’s scary to talk about disconnection, especially from the one thing you loved (love?) more than anything.

“I… write,” is how you start, looking at the ceiling of your cabin as you speak. “Or wrote, maybe? I’m an author. I have a few books published. Writing is something I’ve loved since I was so young, it’s… a part of me, really. It’s special to me.

“When I finally got a manager and a publishing company and all that official stuff, I was so excited. It was like I was finally living my dream. I wrote my first book and got it published and it did really well, so my management asked me to do another, and I did. Then they asked for one after that, and I didn’t… it felt too soon, in a way. Rushed. But I guess I did it because I had to, because I figured this just came with being a writer and not everything is what you want it to be - and I didn’t want to risk losing what I had wanted almost my entire life.”

You take a moment to steady yourself, note the tremble of your fingers and take a few deep breaths. Soonyoung waits for you, patient and kind. “It went like that for a while, and I lost touch with writing. I stopped loving the only thing I knew how to love. I was so detached from it. A few months before I took this job my manager set up a press conference for me, and I… kind of… had a breakdown. At the conference. So I’m out here to run away for a second. Be away from it all.”

The quiet that follows doesn’t make you nervous, really, but you’re still waiting for a reply of any sort. Even if it’s the common oh or it’ll be okay that you got from distant friends and relatives who didn’t know what was really going on. But Soonyoung was patient with you, so you can be patient with him.

“Have you written since?” He asks after a minute, and your eyes flash over to the journal on your desk. One page has the familiar strokes and loops of your handwriting, written after you met Soonyoung in person.

“Only once,” you respond, truthful.

“When you start to write again… will you show me?”

And for some reason the question is so tender, filled to the brim with something you want to name. It makes tears spring to your eyes as you look out over the rising fire, trying not to let your voice shake too much as you reply.

(Maybe it’s because he said when and not if, maybe it’s because he didn’t tell you it’ll be okay, maybe it’s because it’s him and not someone else telling you the same thing.)

“Yeah,” you say, letting go of the button to sniff. “Yeah, I will. If you let me see one of your dances.”

You hear Soonyoung’s smile through the radio as he tells you it’s a deal.

DAY SEVENTY-EIGHT.

For the first time since you started working, someone who isn’t Soonyoung calls you through the radio (not counting the time you radioed Jihoon to make sure he was still alive, because you only saw him once and hadn’t heard from him since then). You hear the familiar click that tells you someone’s on the station, and you’re fully expecting Soonyoung’s voice to light up your cabin the way it always does. Instead, Joshua’s voice rings through.

“You there?” He asks after a comfortable call of your name, and you pick up your radio.

“Yeah, I’m here. It’s been a while,” you respond, and Joshua hums. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve… been,” he tells you, which earns a small laugh. “Anyways, I called in to let you know that they’re having trouble controlling the fire -”

You take a look at the giant flume of smoke north of your tower, nodding to yourself. “I can see that.”

Joshua tells you to be quiet. You hear the friendly smile in his voice.

“There’ll be an evacuation team here within the next two days,” he says. “Maybe less, shouldn’t be more. They’re gonna get all the lookouts evacuated.”

Oh. Evacuation? That means… the city. Your apartment, back to your family and friends. You’d forgotten an entire world exists outside of the bubble you created for yourself.

“Okay,” you say slowly, still looking at the fire. “I assume you’ve told the other lookouts?”

“I’ve got a few more to call, but other than that, yeah, everyone’s covered. I told Soonyoung and Jihoon first,” Joshua tells you, and you blink at the fact that you didn’t even have to ask. “I’ll see you on the other side.”

“Yeah. Stay safe, Josh.”

You sit for a while after that, trying to cope with the feeling in your chest. You… you feel better about everything, about writing, for sure, but. But. It’s cut short, even if only by a little over a week. You haven’t even started packing anything up - so much of you is strewn around the cabin, in the field around your tower, in the trees of the forest you hiked through. You don’t think you’re ready to say goodbye to the place you’ve made your home and the people (person, your heart whispers) with it. 

The sun starts to set and the fire grows. You sit on your bed and look at the things you’ve made your own, a sunken, unfinished emotion spreading through you. Eventually it is Soonyoung’s voice that comes from your radio, low and humorous.

“The Hoshi Fire can’t be stopped…” he murmurs, and you laugh despite the loss you feel. 

“Please,” you groan into your radio after you’ve grabbed it. “We’re getting evacuated!”

Soonyoung giggles, something mischievous that makes your heart warm with slow appreciation. “I can’t believe it’s ending so soon,” you say, standing up to walk around aimlessly.

“Yeah, the summer went by super fast, huh?” Soonyoung replies. “I’m kind of excited, though. I’ve missed a proper dance studio.”

That’s… oh. 

A current of mild surprise rolls through you and you think you physically feel your jaw drop, just a little. That - that hurt. More than you want it to, more than you think it should - but it’s... fine. You’ve only known Soonyoung for a few months, it’s not like…

You realize you haven’t responded and open your mouth on purpose this time. “I wish we could share the sentiment, Hoshi,” you joke, hoping it doesn’t sound too stiff. 

If Soonyoung notices anything, he doesn’t say it. Only laughs, sweet and genuine. “I’m sure you’ll find something to yearn for just as I yearn for dance,” he says dramatically. You laugh, forced, because yeah, you will. Maybe you already have.

DAY EIGHTY.

Evacuation day.

Last day in your tower. Last day in the forest. Last day of the job you took to escape, to heal. It’s spent packing up the things you brought with you, throwing away everything else. Joshua said helicopters would be touching down at two points - Twin Peaks lookout and Mule Point lookout. Twin Peaks is Soonyoung’s tower, and if you planned it out right, you could probably get there and leave with him.

You tell yourself that the reason you can’t is because Mule Point is closer. Safer. They’re evacuating you for a reason.

“Hey.”

Speak of the devil, you think, grabbing your radio from its charging port. “Hi.”

“So,” Soonyoung says. For the first time since you’ve known him, he seems awkward. “Evacuation day.”

“Yessir…”

“What evacuation point are you hiking to?”

You pause, hesitate like you’re about to say something you shouldn’t. “Mule Point,” you manage to get out. “It’s closer,” you say after, your brain telling you to justify it, explain.

“What did the Hoshi Fire ever do to you?” Soonyoung huffs out through a laugh, and it sounds so unaffected that you feel that ache from before again. After a second, he adds, “so… this’ll be the last we talk. At least for a while.”

That realization hits you like a brick and the sting behind your eyes seems normal - regardless of whatever was built between you and Soonyoung or what lead you out here in the first place, it’s so sad that it’s ending. “Yeah,” you say quietly. Everything is packed, you just need to get hiking. “I, um. Is it cheesy to say thank you?”

“Maybe,” Soonyoung chuckles. “But it’ll also make me feel really good, so…”

You feel yourself calm down and let out your own small giggle. Maybe it was always meant to end this way, a little too soon, a little too sad. “Really… thanks, Soonyoung. I think it would’ve been worse for me if I got the silence I came out here for. I’m glad I had you to talk to.”

“Thank you, too,” Soonyoung says back. “I hope… you write again. I’ll talk to you later.”

The mention of it doesn’t hurt as much as it used to, and you feel the smallest of smiles on your lips. “Yeah. Later.”

The radio clicks off and that’s the last you hear from Soonyoung.

EPILOGUE.

It’s hard to come back.

From nature, from Soonyoung - everything, really. To go from trees and fires and talking every night back to car horns, busy sidewalks and your own apartment. It’s weird to wake up and not see the immediate shine of the sun through your windows. But you come back, slowly get used to the life you had before.

And you start writing.

Given - you get back in August only start writing again in October, but you write. Little by little, page after page. Maybe not every day, like you used to, but the words are back and they are eager to get out, leave their mark as your work. You stand up to your management (with Minghao’s support) and take control of your own writing schedule. The pressure from before leaves. Writing becomes special more than ever, returns as the one thing you never get truly tired of.

Minghao asks about the job, your summer. You tell him it was easy and peaceful, and that you’re thankful for the time. You mention the other lookouts. You mention Soonyoung. Only in passing, though. 

(Minghao definitely suspects something, but even if he asked, you wouldn’t tell him much.)

Sometimes you allow yourself to think of him - when you got back, you looked for a Soonyoung in the multiple dance studios in the city, but since you didn’t have a last name or any proper title, nothing came up. After that, you gave up, but he still shows up in your thoughts from time to time, bright blonde hair (the roots growing in) and glowing smile. It’s cold out, now, so you hope he isn’t getting sick and that he’s staying warm.

You’re reminded of just how cold it is when you have to brace the outside world to get your mail. There’s not even any wind, just an undeniable cold, and it makes your nose burn and eyes water as you walk the short trek to your mailbox. You find your slot and push your key in, unlocking it and gathering your mail. Most of it is junk, but you could have sworn something you ordered was supposed to come today -

“Excuse me?”

You turn your head to the voice and find a man walking towards you, his head turned down towards a small piece of paper. His voice sounds familiar, but you figure it must just be a neighbor you haven’t spoken to in a while. You turn your body to him, waiting for him to look up from the note so you can place a name on him. “Do you know where I can find an author…”

He looks up.

It’s Soonyoung.

He looks a little different - his hair is shorter, dyed black instead of the platinum you remember from last July. But it’s definitely him. The longer you stare at each other the wider his smile gets, and you stand, speechless. He’s looking at you like you’re the only thing in the world. Your heart starts to race, warms you up beneath your jacket.

“Found you,” Soonyoung grins. You can’t take your eyes off of him.

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You did.”

#caratwritersclub #kdiner #CRIES I'M SO EXCITED #THIS FIC IS MY BABY I HOPE YOU ALL ENJOY IT!!!! #seventeen x reader #seventeen imagine #svt x reader #svt imagine #kwon soonyoung x reader #kwon soonyoung imagine #svt hoshi x reader #svt hoshi imagine #seventeen hoshi x reader #seventeen hoshi imagine #hoshi x reader #hoshi imagine

[kyodzuken]

boyfriend headcanons - soul evans

a/n; my soul evans inspired playlist!! https://open.spotify.com/playlist/1YntdhOZPg1wMzYBwymwWR?si=JnHvKUWRSKGghG_dDakXGA

- you and soul started off as friends

- you'd joined the dwma halfway through the year and immediately hit it off with liz and patty

- and inevitably the rest of the group

- you're shy; so seeing this big group of loud - and very talented - weapons and meisters threw you off a bit

- but don't judge a book by its cover bc they were acc vvv warm and welcoming

- 'any friend of liz and patty is a friend of ours!'

- your partner was the first to realize tbh

- you and the gang were playing basketball

- or rather you, patty and your partner sat and watched as the rest played basketball

- when they caught you staring at a certain white-haired weapon a lil too long

- and patty;; being the girl she is;;; brought it up instantly when your partner nudged her shoulder.

- '(y/n)-chan!!! i never took you as a lovey type!'

- you rolled your eyes and denied it

- but they knew

- and so did you

- that night,, maka invited everyone over

- and ofc luck was on your side

- and you were squeezed next to soul during the movie marathon

- and it didn't help your case when he put his arm behind you, resting it on the couch.

- you thanked god it was dark because liz would definitely bully you for how red you were lmfao

- you excused yourself to the bathroom

- nearly shat your pants bc ????? uh????? you were just next to ur crush???

- and he smelt rlly nice wtf y/n snap out of it

- so after composing urself and one too many splashes of water on ur face;;

- you exited the bathroom to see the group sitting down in a game of 7 minutes in heaven

- and you wanted to cry

- you either got stuck with death the kid, literally the worst dude in the entire group (blackstar), crona, or your crush.

- lose/lose situation,,, maybe except crona bc theyre a cutie

- and lowkey you were wishing you picked up a specific hairband

-  and u did lol hahahah

- so u were stuck in this small cramped closet

- and u were so deep in thought

- u barely heard when the poor boy called ur name

- ' uhh,, listen,, this is so uncool of me to say here but,, if you say no i'll just kick you out of my house.'

- jeez ok albino

- 'i like you.'

- you swore you stopped breathing

- wtfwtf????

- did he just???

- nawl

- 'uh... i like you too..' you muttered

- which ended with a 2 minute long makeout session

- his hands travelling somewhere they shouldn't

- before blackstar slammed open the closet doors

- exposing the two of you; lips puffy and hair messed up

- the teasing didn't stop for months lol

- but das okay bc deep down they knew yall were couple goals PLS

- soul has a playlist

- filled w bangers

- and everytime he's over and the playlist starts....

- whew heated makeout sesh

- he definitely has some led lights in his room

- set to red

- wink wonk

- he's the type of boyfriend to always have his hand around your waist

- and y'all are best friends doe

- cue maka getting jealous / mad bc soul started ignoring her lowkey<//3

- deserve

- ANYWAYS you guys are literal SOULmates (hehe)

- you have so many inside jokes

- the group is honestly surprised bc they didn't think you two would get along at first

- soul is the type of boyfriend to have sm memes on his phone

- like you'll text him the most specific scenario ever and he'd have a wendy williams meme for it

- and he teases u,, sure

- but it always comes from a good place yktfv

- soul is the type of boyfriend to hold ur head and give you forehead kisses

- he'd give the best hugs too

- he'd wrap his arms around your torso and place his chin ontop of your head

- whenever ur sad just text him a lil frown face

- he's at ur door in record time

- w takeout, some snacks he possibly stole from maka's stash, and his netflix password

- sometimes you guys just lie there

- basking in each other's presence

- u might hold hands but

- mostly just enjoying each other

- soft rnb or indie playing in the background (peep my soul inspired playlist juicyoh)

- soul isn't good at doing ur hair

- but he'd try

- stupid little braids while u two are watching a movie

- netflix and chill except yall acc chill

- like he literally falls asleep in ur arms awe

- and you'd sometimes ask to do makeup on him if u wear makeup

- put his hair back w a lil hairband as he mutters some shit like

- ' this is SO not cool '

- shut up white boy you love it

- expensive dinner dates are few and far between

- but thats just bc yall are not that kind of couple

- you'd rather just get takeout and watch a good comedy or horror

- you'd be the couple to start a youtube channel

- and it'd be acc funny content like,,

- people would subscribe for the couple and stay for the content

- once you did a fnaf lets play

- soul literally left halfway through bc he got scared

- cue the 'bestfriend vs girlfriend tag w/ maka and y/n'

- if ur a meister

- you've probably tried wielding soul in his weapon form

- let's say,, it didn't go too well,,, and now theres a big mark in a wall in the city

- you and soul would 100% play pranks on blackstar and death the kid

- especially death the kid

- with help from lizzy and patty you'd make the poor boy regret ever introducing you two

- but it's all in good fun and the black haired boy has gotten y'all back multiple times too

- soul loves it when you wear his clothes

- like just seeing u in his hoodie makes him ❤️ 💓 💕 💖 💓  💖💕 ❤️

- one of ur biggest pet peeves tho

- is hes constantly undermining his struggles

- and you sit him down like

- 'babe,, youre important to me,,, you need to tell me if somethings wrong okay???'

- baby bursts into tears

- you and maka are some of the only people he's open to.

- he'd definitely play you piano

- or teach you if you don't know how

- maybe you'll sing along a few times

- when you fight it's usually over silly things

- like maybe maka was being maka and he's stressed so he lashed out

- or you didn't kill the kishin you were meant to and got told off by lord death

- it always ends in apologies;; you two don't really let it get between you

- soul is the type to tuck ur hair behind your ear when making out

- or the type to give u hugs from behind

- like imagine omgomg

- you're just chilling in the hallways at the dwma

- talking to patty

- when soul just

- he just

- ugh hugs u from the back, his head on your shoulder, a soft smile on his face as he kisses your cheek.

- cutie asf y'all r cute cute cute

- all in all

- he rlly does care ab you and you just

- "right back atcha babeyy!!"

- fr though

- y'all are bestfriends but also lovers

- goals af

- manifesting a relationship like that brb

#*sobs eternally* #soul eater x reader #soul evans x reader #soul eater headcanons #soul evans fluff #headcanons

[gamerwoo]

[Tales from the Pack] Jihoon: Unfamiliar (Part One)

Characters: Jihoon x female reader

Genre/warnings: werewolf au, familiar au, fantasy, kinda angst but kinda not???, a lil fluffy ig

Word count: 1,779

Summary: Jihoon’s never really been considered a warm or affectionate person. His pack teases him about what it’ll be like when he finally gets a mate, but he doesn’t worry about it. Little do they know that his mate is a lot closer than they think.

Tag list: @choiminjae0325 @heolykpop @fullsun-donghyuck @yoonbabe-d @exuwu @lets-get-1t @vintageot5 @sehunnies-hunnie96 @childfmoonn @wobwobkpop @henloimawierdobye @dirinast @joshwoah @wreckedbytae​ @salty-for-suga @janellxu​ @xu-miseo @uglyratlmao @sakura-uji​ @littleheartsays @onewoowonderboy @kesmonster @xxbluestrifexx​ @starlightshua​ @artistic-rendition​ (if you wanna be added please send an ask!!)

Unable to tag: @birthday-prinxess @sooooofrench

a/n: things in italics are in a dream. also uhhhh yeah so i never even got to start jihoon’s part in the og tftp so hopefully this goes well lmao i hope yall like it !!!!!!

Next | Unfamiliar Masterlist

The first time Jia saw you, she didn’t recognize you. She only knew you as the fluffy black cat with your bright green eyes and sharp teeth that poked out of your mouth. 

“Hello?” her familiar, calming voice had you whipping around, almost excited to see the girl you’d help get back home.

But when you saw her, you paused as well -- just for a moment. You were so used to seeing the foreign girl from a much lower angle, so seeing her at your normal height made her look a little different than you remembered.

“Jiaying,” your face slowly broke into a smile. “It’s been a while.”

“We know each other?” she asked, but she didn’t seem afraid. Maybe a little confused, but her wide, blue eyes were full of curiosity rather than concern.

“Suppose I look a bit different when I’m not a cat,” you chuckled.

Jia’s eyes widened, “_____?”

“Nice to see you again.”

She ran up to you and wrapped her arms around your waist, giving you a tight hug and refusing to let go, “_____, I missed you!”

“Wow, okay,” you laughed, rubbing her back.

Honestly, you were kind of...happy she missed you. You didn’t expect her to, really. Maybe it was because you weren’t used to having friends. Maybe because you couldn’t really communicate with anybody. Maybe because you were just a cat to most people.

But you already knew Jia wasn’t most people.

“How are you suddenly here?” she asked, pulling back but keeping her hands on your waist. “Well, how am I here?”

“You tell me,” you shrugged. “It’s your power, isn’t it?”

You recalled back in the cottage when Jia explained her whole background to you. It was around the time she had realized you understood her, and it was mainly for her to keep sane. She would talk to you about anything and everything, and you’d just sit there and listen -- it wasn’t like you could give your two cents anyway.

“Is this what you look like as a human?” she asked, stepping back a few paces to look you over. She giggled. “You’re so cute!”

“Haven’t heard that a lot...” you chuckled, nodding your head slowly.

Jia’s expression suddenly turned serious, her bright blue eyes looking curiously into yours, “What exactly...happened to you, _____?”

“What do you mean?”

“Why don’t you look like this all the time?”

You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a gust of air as you shrugged, “I just can’t.”

You knew why. You knew very well the reason why. But you didn’t want to tell Jia. You knew she’d want to involve herself, and you didn’t want that. You didn’t want to give yourself a false sense of hope like you had years ago. 

She frowned, her brows furrowing as she stared down at the ground. The two of you were in the forest -- not any location in particular -- and the sun seemed to be setting or rising. You weren’t completely sure. Dreams were weird.

“Are you going to come visit?” she wondered after a moment of her just staring down at the grass, finally raising her head again to look at you.

You shrugged, “Maybe.”

“I want you to.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit, “Yeah, I know. But I’m not becoming your house cat, y’know.”

“You remind me of Jooyeon,” she stated with a warm laugh.

“Remind me which one that is again.”

“The thief.”

“Ah, right,” you nodded. “Well, I’m not sure if that should be a compliment, then.”

“_____, the offer’s always open,” Jia told you, changing the subject back. She seemed to excited to talk to you again to be able to focus on one thing, but you thought that was kind of adorable.

When you saw her before, she was more sad and lonely. She missed her family and you were just focusing on getting her back to them -- and getting that old hag killed was just a bonus. But now she was brighter and warmer and more excitable. You liked seeing this Jia. You were happy for her.

“Thanks,” you nodded, “but--”

“You don’t have to say anything about it,” she interjected. “Just...know it’s there, okay?”

You offered her a small half-smile, “Okay.”

“I’m going to wake up soon,” she sighed. “Jiwoo’s crying really loudly. I think Mingyu’s too tired to wake up.”

“Right, the dad,” you nodded, vaguely recalling her saying one of the werewolves had a child maybe half a year ago -- but that was maybe almost a month ago. The idea of having a family was so weird to you considering you hadn’t been in your human form for a long time. “Well...take care of yourself, alright?”

“You too,” she smiled softly.

And then she faded from your dream, leaving you alone with a weird, empty feeling.

You woke up not too long after that, your tail curled around yourself as you rested on the couch in the small cottage. You weren’t sure how long until someone came along and found it, but you continued to sleep there. You weren’t sure what else to do with yourself now other than sleep. You also had to find new means of feeding yourself, hoping you wouldn’t have to resort to catching field mice again. You didn’t necessarily have to eat, but feeling hungry was just uncomfortable. The witch made you catch your own food for a while until you just started stealing her breakfast and dinner before running out the window to eat it where she couldn’t bother you. Then, of course, there was Jia who took care of you properly.

Of course there was a part of you who wanted to go home with Jia. But you also knew that wasn’t where you belonged. You couldn’t live out your pathetic life as a pet. Even though you didn’t expect to fulfill what the witch had told you, you didn’t want to live for however long as some house cat. Besides, you didn’t want anyone knowing anything about you or why you were the way you were. Jia only gathered a little bit of information, and that was all you would allow.

Your eyes looked over to the window, seeing the sun just barely about to rise. You stretched and let out a silent yawn before hopping down from the couch, and making your way outside through the window in the kitchen. Then you went off in search of something to keep you entertained for the day, just like you did every other day.

-

Jihoon wiped the sweat from his forehead with the back of his hand as he straightened his back. Having fresh vegetables was nice, but gathering them when the hot sun was beating down on him kind of sucked. He would’ve much rather roped someone else into doing it alongside Minghao and Seungkwan, but he was an alpha and had to be responsible.

In the yard, he could hear Jiwoo’s soft giggles as Danbi played with her in her lap with Soomin, Mingyu’s grunts as he chopped firewood near the house with the ax that Jooyeon was proud to say she sharpened, and Seungcheol and Joshua attempting to fix a broken shutter on the second floor. The other wolves were inside either making food or doing other chores. Jooyeon was off at the market with Jeonghan to get groceries, and Jia had asked to tag along. While Minghao was definitely even more protective of her now, he knew he couldn’t live in fear of her being taken again -- plus the witch was dead thanks to him -- so he let her go, knowing Jeonghan and Jooyeon would keep sharp eyes on her.

“She was very excited to go, though,” Minghao had said when him, Seungkwan, and Jihoon had began working in the vegetable garden. “More excited than normal.”

“Is she still hoping to find that cat?” Seungkwan scoffed. “The witch is gone, so the cat probably is, too.”

“But it was with her at the cottage. Junhui tried to find it for her after but it ran off.”

But even while working, Jihoon didn’t think much of the situation or the cat. Even though Junhui still liked to poke fun at him for how much he seemed to like the fluffy black cat, it was still just a cat. It wasn’t significant to him, and it was easily forgotten. Why would he be hung up on some animal, anyway? It had been a month since he’d seen it.

“Hao!” Jia’s voice called as she walked around the back of the house from the front with Jeonghan, and Jooyeon flanking hthem, Jeonghan carrying the majority of the groceries while Jooyeon only had two bags.

“Home already?” Minghao asked as he stood up from his work, his t-shirt damped with sweat that also slicked his black hair back.

“Did you happen to grab any lemons?” Seungkwan asked with a slight whine in his voice. “I want some of Danbi’s lemonade.”

“Then grow some,” Jooyeon deadpanned before heading inside to put groceries away -- she tried to take some of the bags from Jeonghan, but he shooed her away.

“Did you have fun?” Minghao asked, walking through the garden to meet his mate halfway. “You seemed eager to leave.”

“Because I saw _____ in my dream!” she grinned.

“Who?” Mingyu called from where he was still chopping up firewood, his shirt long since discarded.

“The cat,” both Minghao and Jia replied.

“I was hoping maybe she’d be at the market,” Jia explained before he face slowly began to fall, “but...I don’t think she was.”

Jihoon turned around to look at Jia, running a hand through his sweaty hair, “Remind me again the significance of this cat?”

Jia merely shrugged, “I liked her.”

Jihoon sighed and shook his head. He knew that couldn’t be all there was to it -- Jia liked a lot of animals but she didn’t wander out in the forest looking for the squirrel she fed from her palm once -- but he also knew it was useless to fight with her on this. Jia was a strange girl -- very sweet and likable, but strange. Peculiar was probably the proper word.

“How did you have a dream with a cat in it?” Seungcheol wondered as he held the ladder that Joshua had climbed up to fix the shutter. 

“Yeah, that seems...weird,” Joshua agreed, not looking away from where he was hammering a nail into the wood.

But while the pack debated on the accuracy of Jia’s story and reasoning, Jihoon just went back to work and drowned them all out.

#seventeen #jihoon #woozi #seventeen au #seventeen imagine #seventeen scenario #seventeen oneshot #seventeen fanfic #seventeen series #werewolf!seventeen #seventeen x reader #jihoon au #jihoon imagine #jihoon scenario #jihoon oneshot #jihoon fanfic #jihoon series #werewolf!jihoon #jihoon x reader #woozi au #woozi imagine #woozi scenario #woozi oneshot #woozi fanfic #woozi series #werewolf!woozi #woozi x reader

[sunseteyes]

FLUFFVEMBER DAY 23: KEIGO TAKAMI

prompt: blind date (prompts are by @jojosmilktea)

word count: 867 words | themes: fluff! normal!au?? no quirks. think of hawks without wings hehehe

tags: @kacchanori @chickynn @todominica @sparkleswritings @brinthie @patricia-ceballos @giyuus-wife @bitchtrynafck @astrxrism @animatedarchives @deephasoceanmagic @strawberrysalwa @kawaiinishii @moonlightaangel @mrs-kuroojinguji @meliorist-midoriya @pandabobachan

rv: this is kinda similar to one of my past fluffvember prompts but who cares hxjdjd anyway hope yall will enjoy reading this! have a lovely day!!

✒︎ first impressions

there is always a calm before the chaos, the peace before the war. for you, this was that moment.

swallowing down the lump on your throat, you awaited on your seat; slightly jittery, palms sweaty, unconsciously chewing on your bottom lip. it was still quiet, where you could still have time to yourself before it gets snatched by whoever will sit on the seat in front of you.

you had been to countless of blind dates, usually set by your friend, mirko. she was the one who brought it up since you had always been a third wheel with her and her partner. she eventually was able to convince you nonetheless. the first date was actually really nerve-wracking, mostly because mirko had set you up with someone that's rather rich and good-looking. you really thought the relationship will go on but eventually, he reveals that he didn't like you that much.

ouch, but it's not like you got that much attached to him, so it's fair enough.

for some reason, you just had gotten used to this kind of set up—a series of first dates that gets ruined sooner or later. most of them becomes your friend, a few decides to ghost you, and some of them ended up having at least some sort of bond that was more than just friendship, but the thing is, no one really lasted. you only once had gotten into a real long-lasting relationship and it was actually the last person you had been with.

ten months. you had been together for ten months and you two decided to mutually end the relationship when you both weren't feeling it anymore.

love; what an indescribable and dangerous word. for you, there's nothing more confusing in this world other than love.

so these blind dates? maybe they're just a petty way of you trying to cope for your lack of definition of love.

"are you (y/n)?" there was a man in front of you; blonde, messy hair, significantly notable eye-shape, and a stubble that you instantly noticed. he looks rather sluggish, if you would describe him in general, but nonetheless, he has a certain charm of his own that you couldn't describe well. as you glance down at his baggy and unruly clothes, you could only gaze at your own, thinking how much you might have overdressed for the occasion.

you smiled, nevertheless, forcing out another almost-fake, welcoming smile as a way to knock down any ill-first impressions. in blind dates, it's what makes people determine whether or not they will like you or not.

so why are you faking it now? it's not like you want this guy to really like you. do you?

he sighs dramatically, a rush of relief crossing on his face as he sat down in front of you. "finally. so sorry about that. my job's not really cooperating with me right now." he held onto his tie and loosened it, making you immediately got a sense what kind of person he is. he's different from you, this guy—he wasn't worrying whatever you think of him and that might be the first among the ones whom you've met through blind dates before.

it was odd—you found him odd.

"oh, it's nice to meet you by the way. i'm glad you made it here safe." you say, trying to mask whatever insight you had of him to the back of your mind. "my name is (y/n) (l/n), it's nice to meet you uh-"

"you've got such a nice name by the way." he was smirking coyly at you, raising his elbow on top of the table to lean his chin by the palm of his hand. "call me keigo. i should say, mirko has a friend with such a nice face."

"you said i have a nice name. which one is it anyway?" you questioned, managing to let out an amused tone all of a sudden. "both," he grins.

"keigo" you mimic, letting it twist on your tongue smoothly, as if you were trying to get used to it. "you've got an odd name."

"hm?" he hums, "why is that, dove?"

you raised a brow at the nickname but proceeded to answer him with a, "your name means 'one's respect'. you must have a good reputation then, keigo-san."

he chuckles freely and heartily, grinning afterwards. "yeah, yeah, i'm a good person. no need to feel frightened of me. wait, are you?"

"'course not." you chuckled, "i can just report you to mirko, y'know. she's good at muay thai." you took a sip from the tea you already ordered, letting the warmth travel your throat and to your chest, enjoying its flavor alongside the feeling of being with the company of this new man.

"so, tell me about yourself, keigo." you say, gazing at him expectantly, asking the same question you probably had asked a couple of times before.

but for this moment, you had a feeling that it was different—your interest, it just feels much unique, foreign even.

then that must mean your first impression on this keigo takami must be good. lucky for you, it seems like the feeling is mutual.

#keigo takami #hawks x reader #keigo x reader #bnha x reader #hawks oneshots #fluffvember 2020 #fluffvember #roze.fluffvember #roze.bnha #roze.daydream