#ALSO i swear to god this is so random but NEEDLES

[ghostighostly]

School is just torture made specifically for autistics by the government im convinced

[fingertipsmp3]

The last like 12 hours have been one disaster after another tbh and I think I am mostly to blame

[cyripticchronicler]

Healing

Pairing: Azriel x Reader

Summary: You had spent years in pain and agony, wanting nothing more than to go home to your mate. But now that you are home, you're unsure if he still loves you.

TW: Torture, wanting to die, potential SA, depression, crying, short mention of needles and blood.

A/N: This isn't my best work ngl but I was malaptive daydreaming about it this morning and figured I should make it into a fic! It's also my first Azriel/ACOTAR fanfic which is crazy! I love this dude and I'm definitely going to write about him more <3 It's a short fic but I hope you still like it!!

Masterlist

ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚ੈ✩‧₊˚༺☆༻ੈ✩‧₊˚

Ten years. You’d been gone ten years. 

Ten years of excruciating torture. Of being poked by needles. Touched by strangers. 

You’d always loved humans. You found them fascinating and tried to learn as much about them. But they wanted to know about fae as much as you did humans. 

You were sent on a task by Rhysand. It was simple; go to the human lands and see if it’s possible to form an alliance with them in the future. Everything was going smoothly until you were taken by an older man who spent his life researching fae and was determined to find the answers to his curiosity. He was a cruel, evil man. He took away your life. Your freedom.

You used to be happy. A blaze of sunshine that not even the biggest clouds could cover. And you had many reasons to be that way, the mating bond between you and Azriel had snapped; not yet accepted but you had planned to do it soon. You had a place in the IC. You worked hard for your court and created a home for yourself in Velaris. 

If you had known how quickly everything could be taken from you, you would have worked harder to protect it. 

You had almost given up, almost begged the man who hurt you to finish you off. To kill you. But the Gods weren't finished with you, and, no matter how much you wanted to die, you were found before you could. You were thankful, of course, but, despite being home with your loved ones once again, it doesn’t remove the long-lasting memories of agony and longing. 

Azriel hadn’t stopped looking for you ever since you went missing. While you spent ten years being tortured, he spent those years in his own sick form of torment. Each night he was plagued with dreams of you and each day he was troubled with worries of how you were doing and where you were. It was a never-ending cycle of you. 

When he found you, bound in chains with blood running down your cheek, he swears his heart stopped. You were back in his arms, wrapped around you so gently like you were made of glass. You’d melted into his warm body, tears freely falling down your scarred cheeks as you quietly sobbed. 

That was the only time you allowed yourself to cry in front of him. In front of anyone, for that matter. You didn’t want to worry anyone with your problems. They’d already spent years worrying about you, they shouldn’t have to anymore. So you jumped straight into your old self. You were talkative, made friends with Feyre and the other Archerchon sisters, and smiled and laughed when expected to. 

Despite your happy facade, Azriel hasn’t done more than hug you. He’s slept in the guest bedroom in The House of Wind while you’ve stolen his bed, his silk sheets nice and familiar. You’re unsure how to approach him. Does he still want to be with you? You’ve seen how he looks at Elain, eyes soft and caring. 

Ten years is a long time. And you’re worried that during that long time, he’s moved on. Maybe that's why you’re trying to act like yourself again. If he sees that you’re the same as you were before when he loved you, he’d love you again.

Your last straw was a month after you came home. All the tears you’d been holding back, and the emotions you’ve ignored overflowing one random night. You were lounging in the living room with Elain, Nesta and Feyre. You were nestled in an armchair, arms wrapped around your knees that are pressed up against your chest. 

You’ve already zoned out of the conversation, eyes glazing over as you stare at your frail hands, still so thin and shaky, like you never left that place. You only tune back into the conversation when a certain someone mutters your mate's name. “Azriel is a really good kisser. I bet he’s better than Rhys and Cassians,” Elain states casually, as though this was a normal thing to be talking about. Feyre and Nesta immediately jump in and defend their mate's skills but you’re already standing. 

Tears blur your vision, unable to be stopped with your usual pinch on your arm. Your fears had come true; Azriel, your mate, your love, had moved on. “Honey?” Your walk to the door abruptly stops, your lip pulled between your teeth and your eyes downcast. “Hey,” You’re embarrassed by the way your voice cracks. 

Azriels scarred hand tentatively reaches up to grip your shoulder, his other hand gently gripping your chin. He tilts your face, forcing your eyes to meet his own, warm caramel making your heart melt. “What’s wrong?” You shake your head moving away and wiping the tears from your face. “Nothing. I’m going for a walk.” He doesn’t respond and you take it as your sign to leave, hands eagerly reaching for the door handle as you escape into the chill night. 

Azriels footsteps were silent, a habit from being the court’s spymaster for centuries. His silence was why you didn’t notice him, loud sobs breaking free since you figured you were alone. By the time he makes himself known, your loud sobs have quieted to quickly falling tears and you’ve found yourself a bench to sit on and think. 

You let out a squeak when he sits beside you, jumping up from your sitting position. You whip your head around, letting out a sigh when you notice the familiar face. “You can’t just sneak up on me,” You mutter, cheeks flushing in embarrassment as you sit again. 

“I’m sorry,” He whispers genuinely, eager eyes tracking your every movement. “We need to talk.” You sigh, slumping against the bench as your heart beats faster. “Do we have to?” You’d rather live in oblivion than hear what he has to say. He’s going to tell you he’s in love with Elain and that he can’t be with you. Then you’re going to have no one and you’ll end up alone and sad forever-

“-I’ve been trying to give you space. To let you process what happened. But I don’t think you are processing things, honey.” He sighs, hand reaching up to rub at the back of your neck. “I want to be there for you. I’m your mate and I love you. Let me in.” His eyes are pleading, begging. 

Your breathing turns ragged, heart pounding in your chest. “Don’t-” You shake your head, turning away from his face. “Don’t lie to me.” You shrug his hand off your shoulders and scoot further down the bench but he doesn’t let you go far, hands holding your face as he leans into you, desperate. “I’m not lying to you, baby. Why do you think I’m lying to you?”

“B-because Elain-” You can’t finish your sentence, breaking into desperate sobs before his eyes. His eyes are knowing, laced with guilt as he pulls you into his chest. “I was planning to talk to you about this when you were feeling a bit better.” He ensures your eyes are staring into his when he speaks. “Elain and I kissed once. A year ago. I was- Gods I was so lonely without you and I was drunk and she was there. I swear when I squinted she looked like you. But as soon as I kissed her I regretted it immediately.”

He’s desperate for you to understand, voice pleading as he as he grips your face tighter. Tighter but never hurtful. “You are it for me, baby. I don’t want anybody else. I’d rather spend hundreds of years alone than be with someone else.”

“I’m sorry,” You whisper, hanging your head in shame. He’s quick to calm your worries with another hug. “Don’t be sorry. I should have talked to you about it sooner.” You shake your head, wrapping your arms around his neck and hiding your face. “I am sorry, though. I should have talked to you sooner. I just-” You’re sick of the way your voice thickens with tears. You’re sick of crying.

“I’m so tired.” You break, pulling him tighter against you. He hugs you just as tight, not wanting to let you go. “I want to be myself again. I want to be happy again but I’ve changed, and I’m scared you’re not going to like who I become.” You spill all your deepest worries, holding onto the lightness in your chest that you’re afraid won’t last long.

His breath fans your ear, a warmth that makes you shiver. “I’ve never expected you to stay the same. Even before you were taken. You’re changing but I’m changing too. That’s okay. You’re okay.” You pull away with a shaking sigh, hands moving to wipe your tears but Azriel pulls them into his own. 

His soft lips kiss your forehead, evoking another shaking breath. His lips then travel to your cheek, hot breath fanning against your flushed skin. As he places a kiss on your other cheek you can’t help the soft smile that lights up your face. Excruciatingly slowly, his lips graze down your cheek and to your jaw, light kisses making your skin heat.

He pulls away ever so slightly, breath fanning across your lips. He stays still, eyes eager as he waits for your response. He doesn’t have to wait long, your hands moving up to fist his hair. You quite practically yank him to you, lips greedily searching for his.

The kiss is warm and gentle and perfect. Love pours through him with each touch of your lip and swipe of his tongue against yours. You haven’t felt this loved in so long. So cared for. You keep him close, each touch mending the frail cracks in your heart.

“I love you,” you whisper, smiling your first genuine smile in years. “I love you, too. I always will.” Butterflies fluttering in your stomach, a sense of comfort washes over you. 

You know you’re not okay. But for now, you feel like you are. And that one moment, spent cuddled up to Azriel while the stars glisten down on you, gives you faith that you’ll be okay one day. As long as you have Azriel on your side.

[actiniumwrites]

patches

synopsis: even though you’re both self-proclaimed enemies, they can’t bear to see you hurt. or in which, you show up at your enemies door all bloodied and bruised and they’re forced to take care of you

characters: xiao, gaming, alhaitham, and arlecchino x gn!reader (separately)

warnings: angst to fluff, hurt/comfort, injuries, crying, enemies to lovers, some of them are kinda mean, extremely mild misunderstandings, probably swearing idk

notes: i’m in a massive enemies to lovers kick right now omg you guys don’t understand. this was also inspired by arlecchino’s voiceline from a heavy hit or something where she says, “wanted my full attention, did you?” she’s so fine i’m sobbing 😖

Xiao:

It was a relatively quiet night before you showed up at Xiao’s room at the Wangshu Inn. For the first time in a while, he had felt a semblance of peace. That was until the indistinguishable scent of blood forced itself in his nose and a weak knock sounded at his door.

Xiao opens it immediately. He doesn’t care to know who it is, but rather what they want with him at nearly three in the morning. No one ever bothers Xiao this late. Not unless it was serious.

“What do you—“ he starts harshly but stops mid sentence when he recognizes your face. You’re doused in blood, your clothes all ripped up. And god, you look so weak it almost makes him feel bad for you. “Get inside,” he grabs your arm harshly, but still manages to avoid all your injuries.

You start to speak, but your mouth is full of blood too. He can barely understand what you’re saying aside from a bunch of nonsensical, I’m sorries. And if your injuries weren’t enough to show it, the fact that you’re apologizing to him at all tells him something is seriously wrong. Most of the time you talk to him it’s a bunch of insults thrown back and forth, some even result in physical fighting. Neither of you have been able to get along for centuries, yet here you are getting patched up in his house.

Xiao remains mostly silent as he sets you on the counter and pulls out his medical supplies. First he cleans up all the excess blood with a cloth before tossing it aside and moving to work on the actual injury itself. You can’t help but watch him, feeling nothing but shame as you do. You couldn’t help it. There was no one else you could think to go to.

“You are unbelievably weak and irresponsible. It’s idiotic to think you could ever handle anything in this world, not even a few monsters,” he grumbles between stitches, “Pathetic.”

You just stare at him as tears well up in your eyes. You aren’t one to cry. In fact, you can’t even remember the last time something so bad happened that you did. But sitting here, terrified of the monsters that had you within an inch of your life combined with Xiao’s cold words made you completely shatter inside and out.

Quietly, you sob into your other half-cleaned arm, “I know. You don’t have to say it.” You begin to get up right after, mumbling about it being a mistake coming here but he pushes your knee back down before you can fully stand up.

Xiao looks up surprised from where he sits as he does, his hands drop the thread and needle against the counter. Without word, he stands up and furrows his brows. “I should not have said what I said,” he practically whispers, a twinge of embarrassment hitting him too. A darker look shades his gentle amber irises as he stares into yours, “I don’t entirely dislike you. As stupid as your actions may have been, seeing you injured makes me…upset.”

“They weren’t normal monsters,” you breathe out between the remaining sobs that still involuntarily leave your mouth. You know you don’t owe him an explanation, but you figured you could at least make it known you weren’t taken out by some random hilichurls. “I was down in the Chasm. Those…things weren’t anything like I’ve ever seen before. I didn’t even have time to react.”

Xiao nods and places the last bandage on your face, “You shouldn’t go down there by yourself. It’s too dangerous. The last time I was there I hardly escaped.”

“What do you mean?” you raise a brow, your interest suddenly peaked. Xiao wipes the remaining tears off of your face in silence before turning to walk away.

“Call for me next time and I’ll be there.”

Gaming:

Gaming and you had gotten off on the wrong foot when you first met each other years ago. As children, you always felt like he stole your spotlight and he never seemed to care. And as you got older, it never seemed to go away. You constantly bickered and loathed having to see each other whenever one another’s name was brought up.

Yet whenever you got hurt, he was always the first person you went to. Although normally, it was for small things like paper cuts and bruised elbows. Not for your face having a cut so deep you could barely see and an arm twisted out of place like today.

“Fuck,” you mutter as you bang on his door, hoping it was the right one. There was too much blood in your eyes. Every door in the village looks the same right now, and even if it is the right one, you aren’t sure he’s even home. “Please be home,” you pace back and forth. Gaming stopped asking questions years ago when it first started.

You were forced to go with him after a group of bandits had found and beat you up, taking nearly everything you had in your bag. Gaming had found you while on delivery, and like the sweet guy he is, he stopped and helped you even though you could both barely stand each other. He didn’t want to see you dead either.

You weren’t often hurt, but it became somewhat of a cycle whenever you were. You were a nice person, well liked by most, but you also enjoyed stirring up trouble and it often landed you in some pretty hot water countless times. You knew Gaming wouldn’t say anything to anyone or turn you away like other people would. And above all, you like the kinder side of him whenever he patched you up, which he was good at too.

“Gaming!” your fist pounds on the door again. It’s almost nightfall and a few villagers have begun staring. You almost go to knock again, but your body begins to give out. You mumble a few more curse words before the door opens and you fall forward, directly onto the very person you were looking for.

“Ow ow ow, oh my god my arm!”

“Sorry! Is that blood?! What happened to you?”

“I don’t know! Ask the guys who thought my joke wasn’t funny.”

Gaming picks you up off the floor in a state of panic and rushes you to the bathroom. Luckily for you both, his dad isn’t home to see all of this.

Gaming begins to wipe the blood off your face and examine the cut that runs all the way from your forehead to your cheek, narrowly missing your eye. “This is bad,” he says and begins rummaging through his drawers for medical supplies.

You scoff, “Yeah, you think?”

“You didn’t have to come here, you know. You should’ve gone to a doctor,” he bites back nicely. Sometimes you wish he would just be a little meaner to you. It was easier to hate him that way.

You quiet down and let him take care of your face, “I’m sorry. You’re the only one who I can actually trust to take care of me.”

Gaming hides a small smile while avoiding eye contact with you. Not that you could even see, but just in case. He’d never admit it, but he actually really enjoys when you go to him for help. He’s never resented you like you’ve resented him, but he never bothered to change it either. Somehow he hoped bandaging you up would make you change your mind about him.

“It’s alright,” he says softly, pouring disinfectant onto a small cloth and wiping the cut gently. You wince and he places a hand on your upper arm to silently comfort you, “If you want some good news, you don’t need stitches on your face.”

You breathe out a sigh of relief, having always hated needles, “Thank god.”

“But you will have to see a doctor for your arm. There’s no way for me to fix that on my own,” he says bashfully, “I can maybe…take you if you’d like?”

You peer up at him, shocked at the question. Perhaps this could be a new start between the two of you, and you’re not so against it.

“Yeah, I’d like that.”

Alhaitham:

It’s pouring outside when Alhaitham hears banging on his front door. At first, he ignores it thinking it was just Kaveh forgetting his keys again and he doesn’t care enough to let him in. But the banging persists and then comes the faint sound of pained sobs.

He slams his book shut and groans as he gets up and trudges angrily to the door. He swings it open only to be met with the sight of you clutching your waist, barely keeping yourself standing as the rain envelopes you.

“Please,” you whisper weakly.

Alhaitham scoffs, “Really? I’m not a doctor, go somewhere else.” He begins to shut the door, and he almost does so successfully before you collapse on the floor, blood beginning to mix with the puddle outside his door. And there’s a lot of it.

The next thing you know, you’re in your least favorite scholar’s arms as he carries you to his room. He sets you on a chair and you take the time to take in what his room looks like. It isn’t much different than you expected, yet you never thought you’d see it.

“Don’t move. I don’t want you making any more of a mess than you already have,” he sneers, walking off to the bathroom connected to his room to grab out a small bag of medical supplies. When he returns you’re blankly staring ahead of you, barely conscious as tears start running down your face. It’s like you don’t even know you’re crying. Alhaitham stares at you for a moment in utter disbelief before snapping in your face, “Take your shirt off.”

“Huh?” you snap out of your daze, confusedly wiping your tears as you do so. A few sniffles leave your nose as you do so.

“Do you want help or not?” he snaps again, losing his patience with you. He’s beginning to seriously regret not leaving you on his doorstep. You quickly follow his instructions, taking off your shirt to reveal a huge cut stemming from one side of your stomach to the other.

Alhaitham’s eyes slightly widen in shock, and he almost can’t pull them away. For a brief moment, you even catch them soften but it’s fleeting and doesn’t give you enough time to register that maybe the stoic scribe really does care for you, even just a little bit.

You both sit in complete silence as he begins working. You catch his eyes every so often, but he quickly looks back down at the injury before either of you can speak on it.

“Who was it?” Alhaitham grumbles as he finishes wrapping it up, his arms wrapped around your waist. The feeling of his hands distracts you from the question.

“What?”

“The people that did this. Who was it?” he repeats it, more anger this time around. You shake your head and look off to the side.

“I don’t know. It was too dark to get a good look at them,” you try to explain, but Alhaitham doesn’t have any of it. You’re not sure why, but he doesn’t seem like the normal him. The guy that normally finds any and every chance to torment you.

He gets up and grabs the bag, noting something down on a nearby piece of paper and shoving it in the left pocket of his pants before angrily walking out the door of his bedroom, “I’ll be back.”

“Wait! Don’t go,” Your hand reaches out and grabs his. You pull back suddenly, not realizing how impulsive your decision was until it was too late. You go to mumble a sorry, but before you can, you find your hand back in his.

You stare at him in shock, but he just squeezes your shaking hand. “Stay here,” he says somehow both coldly and warmly at once, pulling the blankets back and gesturing to his bed, “I’ll be back in an hour.”

“Where are you going?”

“To deal with the people that hurt you.”

Arlecchino:

You wince as the door swings open aggressively, not expecting Arlecchino to open the door before you could even think to knock.

“What are you doing here?” she asks, squinting her eyes so as to scale you up and down. For a moment, they linger over your bloodstained clothes and the already bruising cuts that litter your body. You don’t notice the way they widen in shock for a moment, too distracted by the adrenaline wearing off.

You still manage to crack an arrogant smile and sarcastically mutter, “Couldn’t think of anyone worth patching me up but you.”

Without waiting for a response, you push past her figure and let yourself inside already knowing where the infirmary is. Although, you don’t make it two steps before your legs give out and your body tumbles toward the hardwood floors.

The clicking of heels stops from just beside you before a strong hand grips your arm and aggressively pulls you up, “Don’t dirty my floors. The children worked hard to clean those today.”

“Yeah? Well they can clean them again tomorrow,” you grumble and weakly attempt to push her hand off of your body. Arlecchino doesn’t budge, however. She instead drags you all the way to the infirmary and sets you down on one of the beds.

“Wow these are surprisingly comfortable. Didn’t know you had it in you to be so accommodating to all the children you like to hold hostage,” you tease to keep yourself from focusing on the pain. She ignores you and instead places a firm hand on your uninjured chest and slams your back against the bed.

Immediately, she begins working on all the little cuts and gently wipes all the blood away, saving your bigger injuries to be dealt with in a moment. For now, she didn’t mind if you suffered for a little longer.

“So,” Arlecchino starts after a few minutes of silence, finally deeming it worthy to have a real conversation with you, “was this your way of getting my full attention? If you wanted me to notice you, you should have just said something.”

“What? No! I got attacked, I wasn’t trying to ‘get your attention’ or whatever.”

“You don’t sound so sure.”

“I really wasn’t,” you cross your arms and turn your head away from her, “I was scared, you know? I didn’t know who else to go to. Make fun of me all you want, but it’s the truth.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

She doesn’t say anything more after the conversation takes its turn. You’re glad she doesn’t, not wanting to engage in the horrible embarrassment you already felt from having to show up here anyway. She was the last person you’d want to have see your weakness, yet here you are covered in the House of the Hearth’s bandages.

When Arlecchino is done with stitching up your leg, she moves to your face and gently brushes away the blood. And cut by cut, she heals each one and leaves you feeling brand new again. You stare up at her for a brief moment, unable to look anywhere else when the red X’s in her eyes are so focused on you.

“So who did it?” She asks suddenly, her tone a little more caring than before. It almost shocks you, but then again, deep down you knew she cared more than she let on. No matter how much either of you didn’t get along, you always had her back. Even if she didn’t know it. You always liked the think that she had yours too.

You sigh and scribble down a few names on a nearby clipboard left by the bed, “That’s only a few of them…the ones I was able to get talking before everything happened. I’m sure you’ll have no problem finding their leader though.”

Her eyes scan over the paper before she glances back at you and nods. She begins to walk away but stops at the doorway and calls out over her shoulder, “I’ll be back in the morning. My room is on the second floor, last door at the end of the hall. I expect to find you resting there when I return.”

[theannoyingmosquitoinyourroom]

i started liveblogging my read in my tags but i ran out of tags so imma continue here but like. read the tags first and then this cuz thats the order. damn i wish i had slots left so that i could tag the reblog w the writing tag as well n stuff. welp, next time ig

anyway moving on from phone-trees

“you may not be my daughter but i still want Maria’s kid to be safe” thats so cute i love you snake man

“for the institution is spell protected” ooh interesting!!!

“admission exams were such a pain in the—“ liz you are 100% correct. also its so fucking cool that you can camouflage!!

okay so if its an anthology im assuming it happens in the same universe? but idk lost of anthologies work differently

if you have more thoughts about the university id be happy to listen im curious to see what kinds of courses there are!!!!!

also im wondering what sort of magical beings are possible in this world. and now thinking of it, i wonder whats up w carlos he seems like a chill dude, i like him

Paternity Test

“I think my dad is a demon.”

“Not unheard of.” Carlos, the exchange demonology student, replied.

Liz frowned.

“I'm serious. My mom never talks about him and now there's this weird… spirit thing, following me.”

“Do you feel hot?”

“What?”

“Hot, angry, headaches, skin reddening?”

“No?”

“No signs of a hellspawn then, you're clear.”

“Come on Carlinhos, help me here, you're the only one from that weird magic uni I know.”

Carlos sighed.

“Okay, tell me what happened.”

“It all started 3 months ago.”

I had just arrived home from school. Mother sent me a message saying she wouldn't be home but lunch was in the fridge. So you can imagine my surprise when I saw Mom in the kitchen, frying rice. (my favorite!)

When she noticed me walking in she turned to me with the brightest smile I ever saw on her face. She rushed me to the table saying I should eat my lunch before going to work. And that's when I started to notice some weird stuff.

First of all, her fried rice didn't taste the same. It wasn't bad, but it didn't taste like mom's fried rice.

Second, she would not eat with me, just… stare. It freaked me out. She kept smiling while looking at me, and when I asked if she was going to eat she said:

“Oh no, human food give me stomach aches.”

She said that with a straight face, I didn't know whether to believe she was joking or not.

Once I finished my food she stood up and gently held me by my shoulders. With tears in her eyes she said:

“My daughter, my beautiful daughter.”

Do I need to say that's not something my mother does regularly? She continued:

“I missed you so much.”

And kissed me on the forehead.

It was at that moment I heard the entrance door being unlocked and the distinct voice of my mother saying:

“I'm back early sweety, did you eat already?”

My “mom” froze.

When my real mom finally reached the kitchen, they stared at each other for a moment.

“You again?!” My real mom yelled, throwing the shopping bags on the floor “I told you to leave us alone! Get away! Go! Go!”

She was slapping my “other mom” in the back and rushing her out of the house. I remember the pitiful look on my other mom’s face, she was silent as she left the house.

When I, rightfully, asked my actual mother what the hell just happened, she said we should talk after my shift, so I went to work. When I got home that day, she simply acted like nothing ever happened! She's gaslighting me to this day!

***

“Oh!” Carlos interrupted “Was it that day? The one you were so tired you thought your hand was turning gray while working the coffee machine?”

“Yeah”

“Hm…” he squinted his eyes at her “Crazy, sorry, go on”

***

And then I started to notice weird stuff happening.

First, suddenly I noticed a strange aura on the snake that always follows me around…

***

“Wait, wait, sorry again, the hell you mean the snake that follows you around? Are there even snakes in this region?! Isn't Ireland a snake free country?”

“Yeah, I didn't notice at first, there were plenty of snakes in my hometown, I hadn't realized they weren't common here.”

“And you were not worried that a specific snake followed you around?”

“It wasn't a venomous one, it's a milk snake, cute, like a pet.”

“Holy Shit.”

“Can I?”

“Yeah sure, go ahead.”

“Okay so…”

***

There was this weird aura around it.

Out of nowhere the snake tried to curl around my leg so I grabbed it gently, I looked at its face and I shit you not — I recognized it! The way its mouth stood… it looked like it was smiling, the same smile my “other mother” had at that time!

No need to say I dropped the snake and ran away.

Three days later my math teacher started acting weird as well. You know, don't you? Mr. Walker hates my guts! But suddenly he was being very nice to me. He wouldn't complain about my lateness anymore nor scold me for sleeping in his class. A sudden change of heart was weird but I wasn't complaining. Until I noticed.

His smile. He would always smile at me, with the same smile.

The same as the other mother. The same as the snake.

I wasn't having it.

After school, I cornered him in the parking lot.

“Who are you and what did you do with Mr. Walker?!”

He looked surprised for a moment.

“What do you mean, Miss Ferreira? I'm Mr. Walker.”

“No, you're not.” I rebuked “Mr. Walker can't pronounce my last name for shit. You're not him. What did you do?”

He smiled. The same sly snake-like grin.

“I believe we should discuss this in a place a bit more… private.”

“I'm not going to your fucking second location, you weirdo.” God knows what he had done to Mr. Walker. I wasn't risking it. I watch true crime documentaries, I'm not dumb.

He looked genuinely hurt. Maybe I was being rude. But fuck politeness.

“Maybe you could… choose a place and time? So we can discuss it properly. I swear your teacher is fine.”

He looked pathetic at this point. I was starting to feel bad.

“Okay…” I said and gave him a place and time.

***

We met at a diner. It wasn't late, I had just gotten off work. The sky was gleaming orange on the horizon, streets busy with workers heading home. It was fine. I was fine. I was not nervous. Not a bit.

I wiped the sweat out off my hands as I waited for him.

He showed up. At the exact time we planned. He had the same big smile on his face, it felt… silly.

“I'm glad you chose a more isolated seat,” he said to me and winked, “Let me show you a trick.”

And then the man wearing Mr. Walker's skin suddenly wasn't anymore.

I'll spare you the details of the transformation, but you know how snakes shed their skin? Yeah. That's what happened.

The new… person in front of me was very pale, although their skin had red and black spots all over, very androgynous also, and very lanky. Their hair and eyes were black as the night sky, I could not see their pupils, but I was sure they were slits and I just knew that if I touched their skin it would be cold and damp. The smile was the same though. It felt… comforting, for some reason.

I was shocked of course. And disgusted. Not by their appearance but the “trick” was nauseating to watch.

They grabbed my hands. As I expected, cold and damp.

“Lizzzzz…” they said “I know this is weird, but it's been 17 years and you need to know the truth.”

My mouth dropped to the floor as he said:

“I am your father.”

***

18 years ago, Maria, my mother was living in the Bahian Caatinga. She lived a simple life. Not so good, not so bad. Her parents wanted her to have a good education, so she went to the capital to study biology in college.

Mother had a special interest. Growing up in the caatinga she was used to seeing and handling a fair share of regional snakes. But what most people thought as just a regular inconvenience was her deepest passion.

She loved snakes and would never let her father kill the ones that sometimes sought shelter in her house. She would always hold them carefully and release them back to the wild, leaving the old man to pout and rant “They'll just keep coming back!”.

And that's cute, right? I'm all for helping the local species but… it caused her to receive some… unusual attention.

Suddenly, — no matter where she went — there would always be a snake around. She didn't notice at first, after all, what are the chances? But it was the same snake every time. A male milk snake, very common in the area but, That's weird… she thought, yet, what could she do? Even if she was superstitious, wouldn't that be a good sign anyways?

She got used to it eventually. And everything was normal. At least until St. John's day.

It was during the June holidays. Her village was going all out for the festivities that year: colorful banderoles from pole to pole, stands of all types in the street, the laughter of the children in their costumes filling the air together with the winter smells of corn, peanut, stews and alcohol brought by the cold breeze, the music never stopped, from the sanfoneiros at the plaza to the home speakers blasting all genres of music.

It was night, but the village shone as if the sun had never set.

It was during the festivities that a strange man, who later claimed to be called Conrado, approached her.

Extending his hand he said:

“Care for a danssssssce?”

Oh, he must be nervous, Mom thought, how adorable. And took his hand.

The dancing leads to flirting, and that leads to kissing, and kissing leads to… well, you know.

He promised to go see her the next day, at the cathedral by morning. She accepted, of course, after all, she had to explain that she had a boyfriend in the city… oopsies. But when she went there… there was no man, only that same snake that always followed her around.

And that was when he realized, and oh boy was she pissed.

Seriously? A snake demon?! A STALKER SNAKE DEMON?!

The snake did its best to be understood, to explain itself. But it could not talk, so I guess it didn't work.

What made Mom angrier was the fact that she didn't get her period the month later… neither the next month, nor the nine months that came after. And then I was born.

Years later, when I was… uh… five? she moved to Ireland — the only place with no snakes she could think of — to further her education, claiming I would also be safer here.

It took a while for “Conrado” to find us, most specifically, me. But he is very happy he did. He's been watching over me ever since.

***

“Wait, you said she had a boyfriend back in the city?” I asked.

“Hm? Yessssssss… I didn't mind though…”

“That means I could also be his daughter.”

He gave me a sad look.

“Yessssss but, I feel you aren't…” He looked even sadder. “But you musssst have notisssssssed, right…? That you are different.”

“No. I didn't.”

Was my skin a little weird? Yes, but I'm a teenager. Do I have some speech impediments related to s and z sounds? Yeah, but lots of people have it too! Was my sense of smell stronger? Yeah, but that's not out of this world. Was I a bit stronger than normal for my build? Yeah, well actually no, y’all are just a bunch of wimps.

He looked at me with the saddest expression I ever saw on a man, he looked… pathetic. Exactly my mom's type, that I can't deny.

“Okay, then…” he sighed, “but if you notice something… anything, you can call me, alright? I'm staying in the woods next to your house, just scream into a tree and I'll find you.”

He was about to leave, but then realized something and turned back to me.

“Also, take this,” he handed me a rock with a hole in the middle “You might not be my daughter, but I still want Maria's kid to be safe.” aw

And he left.

***

“And that’s it.” Liz finished her story with a sigh. “He can’t be my real dad, right? I would have noticed it…”

“Liz,” Carlos said in a deep voice “Did you notice that you didn’t blink a single time in this conversation?”

“What?”

“And that your hands and arms have camouflaged themselves on the table?”

“What?!” Liz looked down and sure thing, the color of her hands was completely changed, blending in with the table. Liz's mouth was on the floor.

“Also, everyone thinks I am enrolled at a regular university, no “weird magic uni”, for the institution is spell protected.”

Liz was flabbergasted “Then how? I…?”

“Only special humans or magical beings are able to know the truth about the university.”

“...”

“You should call your dad.” Carlos said “Also, you're almost finishing high school, right? I think you'll be getting an email soon…’’

“I… don't I need to apply first?’’

“The mystic arts university works differently, it's more like they come for you, no application needed.”

“I… I'll get going.” Liz stumbled.

Needless to say, a certain snake was very happy that evening. And feelings aside, Liz could not help to feel relieved to have a uni waiting for her already, admission exams were such a pain in the—.

[f0xgl0v3]

Octavian’s belt situation

Okay! Uh, instead of working more on another gods foresaken map post (I swear-) instead of doing. That to myself more I found it much more interesting to think about Octavian’s plushie belt situation.

Octavian cannonically has a belt that goes over his toga/just over his clothing to store his dagger, the stuffies; etc.

I’d like to propose the: Octavian Belt item placement hc! Because that’s what it’s come to, anyways

The belt itself,

So; I have drawings (oh of course I have drawings) but I’d also like to explain. The belt itself is probably something like nemean lion hide leather, something that’d be expensive in the demigod world that stupid rich family of Octavian probably would get. It’s one of those like snap buckle(?) belts? The same type of buckle they hand you on like, amusement park rides (the ones that are like? Google is calling them side release buckles) but those. It’s for ease of like everything, so he can slip off his toga or slip off the belt quickly.

But anyways, here are my super duper cool accurate diagrams

Front is left; back is right. I drew these quickly so I apologize, but it gives the roughest of rough breakdowns. In my idea this is like a rough idea of what it could look like?

To his right would be three stuffed animals of anything really? There’s little loops (that I accidentally colored wrong-) that ribbon or rope or thread could be run through to tie the stuffed animals to the belt. I chose ribbon for the drawing because (I like bows) I just wanted to have some fun. To the back would be one of those like belt pouches (I have one and they’re so fun-) and it probably holds stuff like gum, those the alcohol wipes you use once you get a cut(?) and like emergency tiny spool of thread and some needles. Then we get to the sheath for his dagger and, I have no idea how that would be properly strapped in, but for the reasons of the concept sketch it’s simply just like; wrapped together. Finally is the hand sanitizer; my boy can’t do thinking about getting sick or dirty things in general, totally carries some really quick disinfecting stuff on him.

Okay this was a random post but I hope if was super fun; I am going to go to be now so I hope all a good night!

[jodjuya]

I'm officially a hater. Every Halo game since the very first one is full of bullshit.

My many problems with Halo 4, as I experience them:

FOUR VIDEO GAMES IN A SERIES! FOUR DIFFERENT CONTROLLER MAPPINGS!!! MICROSOFT WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU???

What is the compass needle even pointing to on 117's assault rifle? we're adrift in open space...

WHY ARE THERE MOTHERFUCKING QUICK TIME EVENTS IN THIS GAME? FUCK YOU!

"these Covenant seem more fanatical than the ones we've fought before" - how the fuck can you tell??

Why did they give Cortana baby-face and big tits?? Pick a direction, Microsoft!! She can be prepubescent or postpubescent but not both of them simultaneously!

Why am I supposed to feel any sort of emotional attachment to Cortana anyway? She's just a Microsoft Clippy with blue boobs stuck on 🙄

"I'm the only AI generated from a clone" I'm vibrating with rage at how goddamn stupid that is.

I THINK YOU LITERALLY HAVE MORE PRESSING PROBLEMS THAN RETURNING TO HALSEY TO FACTORY-RESET YOUR AI WAIFU, MASTER CHIEF! YOU ARE EVADING HOSTILE ALIEN FORCES ON A RANDOM PLANET GOD KNOWS WHERE! JUST GET A NEW AI WAIFU WHEN YOU GET HOME! FUCK

"[Unknown alien transmission]'s behaviour is odd!" - how the fuck do you know that Cortana??? This is your first time encountering this transmission, how do you know it's not supposed to be like that?

Maybe the reason all these aliens are so hostile to you, Master Chief, is because the very first guy you saw you punched in the jaw and threw down an elevator shaft! Would it kill you to just try saying "hello" first?

Lmfao @ Cortana calling out the Chief for the exact same thing literally seconds later

"Requiem! At least we know where we are now!" - my guy you have no fucking idea where you are

WHY THE FUCK DOES HALO HAVE CINEMATIC 3RD-PERSON MELEE ATTACKS NOW?! JUST CLOBBER THE FUCKING GUY AND MOVE ON!

This is something I really disliked in Halo 3 too, but those invisible barriers that hard block you from taking vehicles indoors, even if you do manage to scrape them past the non-invisible barriers. Let me drive a Ghost indoors!

Why can't they maintain my weapon loadout on either side of a cutscene? Halo 3 handled this really well.

But here in Halo 4 I take my lovely SAW and my lovely Fuel-Rod Cannon into a cutscene and come back out of it with an assault rifle and pistol. 😒😒😒

• Seriously, why does Cortana have the face of a nine year old child and the body of a twenty-nine year old woman?! Am I taking fucking crazy pills here??

I can forgive video game developers being horny, but not when it's this gratuitously bullshit

(and the voice of a 59 year old woman, going by the game's opening cutscene of Dr Eugenics' interrogation lmao)

The new forerunner enemies are cool enough, but it really feels like they copied Borderlands' homework with their design.

Why is Cortana so blithely confident with all her info-dumping about these random alien creatures she's never seen before in her damn life? And why is master chief taking anything she says seriously when he knows she's going through AI-Alzheimer's???

The Didact is bullshit. Who the fuck is this guy? why does he call himself a "Forerunner" when that's 'our' word for them? and how does he indentify us as "human"? Also why's he so mad at us for freeing him? This is all so very stupid.

Wow. ANOTHER escape sequence involving driving fast through some exploding superstructure? Come on, Microsoft, it's all very well and good to rest on your laurels but this is just masturbating with them... I swear to you on my mother's life that having an original idea isn't nearly as painful as you seem to think it might be...

Even more being stripped of my good weapons and reset back to basic bitch assault rifle + handgun

"the greatest enemy ever faced by the forerunners: you" - bitch you've been extinct for like 100,000 years what the fuck are you even talking about???

"the Prometheans, they're human" what the fuck are you even talking about?? Who the fuck are the Prometheans??

Genesong, evolutionary acceleration, thousands of lifetimes' worth of planning? What in the flying fuck is all this nonsense? When and why did Halo become "What If Star Trek Was About Using The Power Of Friendship To Kill God"?!

Look, Microsoft, this shit isn't fucking rocket science. I shouldn't have to take an undergraduate degree in Halology to understand the fucking story of a video game. I shouldn't have to go read god knows how fucking many spin-off novels there are just to know basic facts about your game like who in the flying fuck are all these goddamn Elder God alien species you're name-dropping. I should just play the game and have knowledge of the game from playing the fucking game. Jesus fucking christ pull your head out of your arse and stop jerking yourself off and start making some goddamn sense!!

Why can this Space Orc Big Bad use The Force like Darth Vader anyhow??

Why is defeating Space Orc Big Bad a fucking quicktime event???

Lol get vaporised, idiot

Why was nuking his spaceship another quicktime event? Just make the whole thing a cutscene, christ 🙄

Master Chief finally makes it to The Waifu Dimension (via nuclear bomb?????) and his first thought is "how do I escape from here?" instead of "oh cool I can finally kiss my holographic waifu"

And now he's just, like, chilling out in orbit around earth, perfectly fine and unharmed?? after setting off a nuclear bomb in his lap with his own two hands?????

Hey, so why was I fighting digi-struct robots for the entire back-half of this game anyway? Isn't Halo supposed to be about fighting The Covenant and The Flood?? 😒

Also, didn't the Covenant have an internal schism/civil war last game?? Like, that was the whole plot of the whole game. Why are the Elites back in the Covenant again; are we just not going to bother with explaining that?

Holy fuck I hate this fucking game. Really glad I only paid seven bucks for it.

Things I liked about Halo 4:

It looks pretty

No more dual-wielding. Fun concept, sure, but it made the games' control scheme fucked to shit. Really felt like Bungie made all of the enemies into utterly gratuitous damage-sponges to compensate for MC's higher DPS too, and that sucked.

The weapon rebalancing, in general. The new Needler kicks ass.

No more dragging around a giant posse of allies with me everywhere. I feel like that was another big contributor to the enemies needing to be so heavily-buffed with sponginess.

Really glad the Brutes aren't in this game. Those guys were the fucking worst.

The items from Halo 3 were mostly useless and just served to clutter up the game. Forgot they were there most of the time, and kept activating them by accident when trying to reload. Glad to see they've been fucked off/heavily retooled. The new active-camo gadget is useful and fun without being overpowered; I really like how well they've balanced it. All of the other gadgets are fairly middling though.

The new machine gun is great! (SURE WOULD BE NICE IF I WAS ABLE TO KEEP IT FOR MORE THAN HALF OF ONE LEVEL THOUGH)

I laughed when I saw a grunt sprinting at my Ghost with a lit grenade in each hand. Some real Serious-Sam-type nonsense right there 😂

Stomping around in the Mantis mech was extremely fun

The sticky-bomb handgun was pretty fun.

Final verdict: Microwaved Slop.

I'll eat it if I'm hungry enough, but I won't enjoy it.

[simbelmyne20niniel]

*has a small heart attack upon reading that you're reading my fic* OH, you were the guest leaving a kudo the last time?! Okay, I'm curious about your opinion *sits like on needles*

Good that Collins wasn't in the top 10, God I swear, I am not someone who hates musicians, but Phil Collins is a big exception. I hate this guy 😂

"OH LORD!!! That Zeppelin concert with Phil was a disaster…. I feel sorry for every person that was present at that concert." - oh Christ, that's harsh, but my bestie's reaction wasn't any better!

I have to disagree, but it's only because I don't like Collins' music. I've never seen anything interesting in it, and I'm not saying it because I don't like him. I was tiny when I watched "Brother Bear" and as much as I always loved music in movies I've watched, I couldn't get into this one. Years later (now) I know why.

DO! OMG, "In the City" is such a good album! "Art School", "Slow Down", "Batman Theme", "In The City", best songs from this one, I'm telling you - the drummer, Christ, the drummer does his job so well!

I would love to give you recommendations for "Red Rose Speedway", but it's a similar case to "Quadrophenia". I would have to dump a list of every song off this album, I love it this much!

I HADN'T SEEN MV TO "SO LONELY", I'M GONNA WATCH IT NOW! This was so random, hahahahaha, Stewart literally got the goal to hit as many things with his drumsticks as he could, hahahahaha. But there's also the "Don't Stand so Close to Me" mv and the moment with that stepladder. I keep wondering why Stewart climbed it 😂

Oh, your interpretation of "The Bike" makes so much sense! Especially if the music had to recreate the LSD effects. Yeah, the music is weird, but I do have three songs I like from Pink Floyd's first album. They are: "Lucifer Sam", "The Gnome" and "Scarecrow" - guess they are the most normal ones. But I also remember listening to "Interstellar Overdrive" and God, I couldn't listen to it. I've send it to my bestie, her head started hurting and then she send it to her boyfriend, saying "he'll like this, he loves such weird shit" and a few hours later I got a thank you from him, because he loved it 😂

Simon and Garfunkel were not chill towards each other? How come, tell me more! "Child of divorce", that's a good one 😂

Could be actually - what a cute photo of Bolan tho! "Get It On" is such a vibe, omg, I might actually start listening to T.Rex after this srs!

Way to go, Zombies, choosing a name that they didn't know the meaning of. I'll check the song this weekend and let you know my opinion on it. In the meantime, could you perhaps give me some more recommendations by them?

I see that you're a big fan of Rory, even putting him on the list higher than Jimmy Page, damn. Could you give me recommendations of his songs to listen to as well?

Oooohhh, I would recommend to write a fic with Rory. I take it that you want to write a self-insert with him? If so then go for it. I'm speaking from experience as I took first steps in writing self-inserts stories more than a year ago and honestly, writing self-inserts with your favorite musician is so fun!

My weekend was not so good. I have a lot on my head to do on university and while Saturday was all okay, I had a breakdown at Sunday. Cried three times, felt sadness during the entire day. The only good things happening at Sunday were: time spend with mom, downloading albums on my phone and making "Surf Jam" my ringtone 💜

How about you? How was your weekend? And do you have any plans for Christmas, perhaps?

I have no other artists I listen to, I'm sorry 😂

Okay, so I'm finally on vacations!!!!

I don't know why but when you said "Years later (now) I know why." I imagined you like this

The Gnome is such a happy song. "He'll"he'll like this, he loves such weird shit" A man of culture, I see. hahahahhahaha 

I just listened to "Red Rose Speedway". What an amazing album. I can see why you like it that much!!! Paul never disappoints. Now I'm on my way to listen to The Jam

Simon and Garfunkel. They met at a very young age in high school and started their career at that time. They had some singles playing on the radio and, you know, having big dreams. Together on stage, they have this beautiful connection, they're good together. Their harmonization is one of the ones I like the most in music. But what I remember, what started their friction was that Simon dropped a solo single and Garfunkel was mad about it. Even years later he was still mad about it. 

Although both composed the songs and the music, in my opinion, Simon was the one more focused on music, because at some point (If I'm not wrong) after their single for the film The Graduate, Garfunkel got movie roles. They were heading in different directions. That's why "Bridge Over Troubled Water" is their final album. From time to time, they had some comebacks, but only for special events. But just that, they still had arguments about the past. They toured together 2 more times, but working together on a new album was a big NO for both of them.

Okay, from The Zombies the songs I recommend you, are:

Sumertime

The Way I Feel Inside

Beechwood Park

This Will Be Our Year

Time Of The Season

Can't Nobody Love You

What More Can I Do

It's Alright With Me

Maybe After He's Gone

From Rory:

A Million Miles Away

Shadow Play

Easy Come, Easy Go

They Don't Make Them Like You Anymore

Follow Me

Bad Penny

Just The Smile

Wave Myself Goodbye

Moonchild

Laundromat

Do You Read Me

And for the fic!! Yes!! I really like the self-insert fics. I'll try to do it! mybe a one-shot.

I know how it feels to have a breakdown and hope that you're doing better by now. It's okay to cry, it helps to get out many things. So I send you a lot of hugs and never give up. Better days are coming!

My last three days of working were weird. I felt like they were very long days. But, winter break has started!! So I'm enjoying my time sleeping longer hahahhahaha. For Christmas, we often go to celebrate it at my mom's family side. Everyone brings food to share like tamales, chicharron, asado, carne asada, etc..., we always play loteria, so we must bring presents for the winners. 

What about you? What do you do on Christmas with your family?

[castle-dominion]

7x5 meme is murder

the snappamatic episode liveblog

Ok so I have p much no time. I have a full time job now instead of part time plus school assignments to do. I'm just going thru the transcript while I have a free half hour instead of yk... doing my Menu Demographic assignment.

update: it's still several days later & I'm only now getting the chance to watch it, on my day off. Heck the only reason I'm able to watch it is bc even tho I had to go to two different schools today & my uncle usually comes over, mum & lil bro are gone & my uncle is not coming over so I can watch this in the evening. I... have less than two hours before I need to be asleep.

Music <3 I see nobody here. Lots of mirrors. Pretty gal. Love how we're getting only one side of the phone call. why is the number already blocked? it's her! She dead!

When I watch this I'm going to join in on the vocal warmups I swear (I did lol) my mom's shiny forehead Martha <3 I love her bouncing BTS stuff I love, hey do you remember-- no that was s8 when someone was filming the dead body in the theater place. Mo! (who even is mo?) (you know I named a character Miyawatam who goes sby the nickname mo) walks away from mom with "oh my god" face wait I need captions on lol & since I've pre-liveblogged this, I can watch while doing my mustard seeds!

Misleading. Ha on the downloa-d. Remember the bloopers? NF has to catch books over & over.

Good for castle! Minor blow to my ego! Ok becks but PLAYING yourself is different from BEING yourself. Ah the coffee clink! RC: It’s time I let technology wrap me in its warm, lucrative embrace. Me: Bro if it's warm ur battery is overheating transcript doesn't say how tall the building is (love castle & the unis)

SHE is a maintenance worker, good for her. nvm misread the transcript, maintenance FOUND her Esposito kinda pretty. Heehee so creepy. Julian & LT in the background <3 Ryan also pretty ig but meh RC: Well, so much for the warm embrace of technology. Why si it always a burner phone? I mean they are homicide detectvies so of course it is there... I just remembered how the killer got in. Anyway the dets get burner phones with more regularity than normal ppl. Did she get killed after hanging up on him & getting the text?

Ryan's eyes in this lighting Club Doom Small time celebrity sort of like how castle is a famous author but not easily recognizable. Wow 500k is a lot. My youtube only has 320 & mu tumblrs have way less. (btw carlos is kinda pretty) Oh maintenance celebrity was a comedian! Makes sense! not stalkers but u need followers

HOLD ON I KNOW AN EDWARD HAN IRL. he is NOT an acupuncturist, at least he wasn't in jr high... RC: And who better than an acupuncturist to kill with accurate punctures? Perhaps with a giant needle. JE, who is rly pretty: I don’t get it. Posting dumbass photos all over the place? How does she have a fan base? How did this become a career? Me: so right bestie *liveblogging on tumblr* RC: Welcome to the sharing economy. JE: More like oversharing. Me: & it's worse when they share info abt random people on the street or prank them. At least Just For Laughs gags points out the cameras in the end & asks permission. KB: Really? And you’re opposed to all photos of oversharing women? *eyes emoji* JE: o-o JE: That’s … different. (funny but not clipping) (ryan said that making eye contact to beckett & everyone but also that deep eye contact with esposito)

Yeah she messed up Han's business I'm mad at her Ooh info: Abby said someone had been following her for the last month. But I didn’t track her down until a week ago. So the stalker couldn’t have been me. I don't have proof, that's your job

What's up with the lighting btw? KB: “The brightest stars burn quickest.” Me: we spark & fade they die by threes ooh wood varnish Pulls up a chair for someone (castle ig) The guy filming-- no that was castle's book. Mixing in my mind with the one in the future. lol Netslayer??? totally would have a better pfp imo

Like the cheese that the guy posted online that happened to have his finger that had his fingerprint that got him arrested

Heck yeah privacy! Oren Wilder: Look, no one is more upset about this than we are. KB: I bet Abby Smith was. Yay 10minmail Snappamatic stays a thing in future episodes, being associated with murder is not going to ruin it. Like those tiktokers who found a body in a suitcase. Metadata my beloathed What if the netslayer had his idea for snappamatic stolen by these two? Why would netslayer not scrub the metadata? JE: We already did. It’s a one man shop owned by one Bill Garrett. It turns out he used to be a cop until he had a nervous breakdown. And get this – he worked in the cyber division.

Ew guns. no vests tho.

Lol screw you & your fellow officer bs. You are to be treated just like any other human being. Even when u delete them they can be recovered, yes he knows that he was in cyber. He can't have killed her bc he wouldn't mess up like that. Bill Garrett doesn't go near the web unless he has to? mr cyber division? Also brings up a question. When did the police need to make a cyber division? (& then why does he have wifi at his shop?) BG: And I quit cyber because a frat boy date raped a girl, posted the photos online, and then got away with it, so I flipped out and I put him in the hospital. Me: so valid bestie

Ooh it's them! they're being stalked! Taunted! Serial killers taunting cops are always fun in media. So why... why did the netslayer show off instead of letting them arrest him & he'd get away with it? Oh wait I remember. He wants attention. I lovebeckett's face at the body parts

RC: Human Sausages... (makes sense for a serial killer)... in november...... (not so much) Except that mr cyber might be able to change his security system to say he has an alibi their NEXT murder or a murder they've done which u haven't found yet? Speaking of which, did he post the pics before or after the body was found? Huh, nov 12 is World Pneumonia Day. KR, annoyed: Yes castle we're also looking into that

I don't like the animations. I'd expect Tory to do more alt-tab back & forth between the cropped photo & the normal photo. In fact, let her do it several times & maybe one of the dets says "stop i'mma get nauseous" Food blogs my beloathed

Ooh german cuisine Hey 47 followers in a week is good!!

Maybe these are personal, not for the web-celeb. Go back to your first suspicion.

KR: But Leek’s pretty low on the Snappamatic totem pole. He only has about two thousand followers. Heck, my blog has more than that. First of all, "heck" is a good word, second, Let Me See Ryan's Blog! Like how bbc made john watson's blog! RC: U have a blog? KR: Yeah, yeah. The Ryan Report. It’s the musings of a homicide detective? The ryan report <3. Ok so the transcript says becks knows what he's talking abt but does she? does she read it? does she just know about it? I'm glad castle isn't reading it tho bc he'd make so many comments & corrections. (& watching it I see becks also looks surprised when ryan says his blog has over 2k followers) (Actually watching it I see becks makes hand gestures as if she knows abt the blog, meaning she knew abt it but not that it was over 2k followers or she was faking.) KR: Well … that’s going to be difficult. He’s at an art opening in Seattle. He doesn’t live in New York. Ok & one more thing abt the ryan report: is being a homicide detective his only personality trait? (I mean in early seasons he started reading castle books & then ofc he's also a parent, & it's revealed he took piano lessons & he'd open a winery if he won the lottery, but still, his blog is about homicide?) Castle shaking his hands when he figures it out, adhd moments

RC: Expiration date on spoiled milk. Plus grilled bratwurst equals … spoiled brats. (they don’t really follow) That’s the message. That’s what the images mean, leading us to … (off their lost looks) Seriously? Anyone here besides me a consumer of vapid online magazines? ESPOSITO, RYAN, and BECKETT all chorus “no”. CASTLE deflates. (but the way they say it is so... chill & small, I love them. not worth clipping tho. btw I love how far forward beckett's head is when listening & then she brings it back to normal good posture when she shakes her head. But maybe I should clip. But maybe I shouldn't.) Ok but weren't there 3 photos? Yeah body parts I DID IN FACT NOTICE THAT THE ARTICLE'S PHOTO WAS THE COLLAGE

Ok I should put this on hold *after eating second breakfast* Maybe I can just liveblog a little more...

Becks maybe she doesn't know abt the netslayer yet, it's been less than a day. Could have said "we have reason to believe that you are the target of an upcoming homicide" So she knows abt the netslayer obv, but abby had up to half the followers you did, which is a lot. (also, ryan's blog has 2k followers!?!? that is plenty!) she's awful. doesn't deserve to die but wow. Yeah it's hard when you go from mademoiselle to madam or miss to maam or senorita to senora. (but esposito's eyes when she said that lol) Bye bye! *man's dead*

hhh pushzoom So when did the netslayer kill cam if the cops were right there?

I always thought it was weird how they just have a tv up in the corner but they used it for the baby lottery & they don't just idk. tv is weird. she can pause it? remember the dead pool? the guy was a car thief? Or ambidextrous

Ok so the timing of it is an issue. It looks like they are still chill, but this was before they got on the scene.

First name

Hug <3 This is so early 2010s or whenever this show came out. Love anonymity. The cops just bought a 3d printer? I'd expect the guy to maybe use one at the library. Ryan looks so sweet. I love him look at that. Ok but u need to have it the right size. & orientation. The key is twisted to the wrong size. But ryan is sooo smart look at him! look at what he did! (also that key is possibly a 1284x) Castle uses the word outstanding now! (the killer didn't snap a pic, the vic posted a pic) mr rich castle man XD (beckett's voice this ep sounds like she grew up with a british or other european accent & is working to not have that accent but it is not rly working.)

Yeah u don't drive ur can in new york, it's for getting out of the city.

JE: So I’ve been running the people that rented Abby’s apartment. KB: Why would anyone let complete strangers stay in their place? TE: Extra money. KB & JE: TE: (sheepishly) After this I don’t think I’ll be doing it anymore. (yeah she's an underpaid "lowly tech worker" I don't think even a real cop. I have a friend who does work like that, or at least did, idk what happened after june 2020) So this guy has been planning this since Abby rented out her apartment. Carlos said she USED to rent out her place, now she doesn't.

Bill garrett, welcome back! Is it a fake beard or did he grow up & grow a beard?

Myspace XD Except I have a question, would he, if he's been this traumatized, not be super aware of where all the cameras are now? ig not Computer geek? My man has computer friends then.

how does he get paid then? Oh wait online stuff. that's how he paid for the 3d print job. JE: Hey, get this. I ran down Tim Witherspoon, Lane’s bully. Turns out, he’s dead. Unsolved homicide. He was stabbed in his apartment ten months ago. !!! RC: That’s right after Lane’s mother died. Maybe that’s what triggered him. He might still have the key, like when james gillies went to his childhood home & kidnapped someone

wow guns

her phone is in the velcro on her jacket?

Oren and Kent Wilder from Snappamatic, oh no. (they got kidnapped WHILE working with tthe police!?) This is hilarious, I read a fanfiction like this once. It was very typical fanfiction tho, I can't take this seriously.

It's like gofundme, a popularity contest where if you lose you die bc you can't afford ur medical bills. Becks is right, they both might. I mean, maybe if nobody voted nothing would happen. Hey here's a question: how are the votes connected to the machines? What if instead of finding the room, they stop the timer & the votes? Yeah sure u can track down snappamatic office photos OR you can find out where/when/how they were snatched & figure things out that way. (bro they can't even track the photos, remember?)

Adam Lane: What’s the expression? Three hots and a cot? (shrugs) Works for me. They probs can't send him there AL: It can’t be any worse than high school. he's .. maybe not that wrong? girl u'r not going down with manson & the zodiac. AL: I’m sick? (scoffs) Nobody had to follow me. No one has to vote for Kent or Oren. But they can’t help themselves. They want to be a part of it. They have to watch. So … who is really sick? He's not too far off there actually

I thought that garret would go in & talk to him

Ryan doing tech stuff, esposito walking around canvassing Well if the site crashed, nobody can vote so that's good. Maybe it disabled the timer & now they won't die. What if oren & kent just,, already died bc the system boot killed them? bc it is after all connected to the site & the votes...

AL: If you cops were capable of doing your jobs you’d know. there was a hint. He did spoiled brats... he left a hint somewhere else. & I think I remembered how it ends. {hs, right?} ew fakes electrocution, surprised me Becks u need to make it believable. Send Garrrett in. Or u can bully him becks. that... ok. He didn't exactly say they were to/g. *using description* tiled walls & stale air. Why so much description my man? BOTH fry wait, he also said the votes were irrelevant.

*jumps over the thing* Bro what if you just peel off the stickers? (except with only this many seconds left u might not want to touch the things) The countdown ends and an electrical box beeps. ESPOSITO reaches over and grabs a fistful of the wires and pulls them out. The wires spark, but they’re safe. Like castle & the bomb! for a sec I thought esposito went to hug him lol, but it was the duck tape on his mouth

I love seeing the whiteboard with the writing but no pics, it;s cool

The way he swings his arms

YAY THE RAGIN HEAT WEBMERCIAL I AM SO GLAD THIS IS ONLINE I'M NOT CLIPPING BC I CAN JUST LINK IT BUT HECKING CROWS I'M HAPPY.

Transcript: Hi, I’m Crichard Rastle Captions: Crichard Ratchel Me: so did he mess up saying his own name or was it youtube pooped together? I;M SO HAPPY THIS WAS DUMB & PPL DIDN'T ENJOY IT BUT I DID & I SING IT TO MYSELF ALL THE TIME. his face doing the boomerang thing RC: (horrified) A million people have seen that?

Great ending btw with just the "hi"

sdklsjdfljksj so that was fun. Can't wait for the bloopers I'll show you some good.

[couldnt-think-of-a-funny-name]

I think it would've been funny if Mary was on a solo hunt and met Claire, with her curly blonde hair and big blue eyes and tough attitude and wearing a shirt she stole from dean that dean stole from john, and Mary's like 'oh. interesting. I'm a grandmother. nightmare scenario.' and this is post the bmol reveal so Dean is fully not talking to her and she thinks he didn't tell her he has a daughter because he didn't trust her so she decides to get in Claire's good graces. 1) because her granddaughter seems to have the impulse control of an irritated bull and she definitely shouldn't be hunting alone and 2) she gave Claire a fake last name so she wouldn't figure out their relation so by the time Dean figures out they've met Claire can help sweeten him up so Mary can fix things with him. Claire meanwhile is annoyed that this random woman keeps following her around but she's already resigned to the fact she attracts parental figures like a magnet.

so they're a VERY chaotic hunting team for awhile. Mary also keeps trying to needle out details about Claire's life- she figures she might blow her cover if she asks too much about her father, so she asks a lot about Claire's mother but she's very cagey about the topic. then one day Claire let's Mary use her phone for something and she notices the background is a pic of her and Cas and Claire doesn't wanna get into the whole angel thing with this woman who won't get out of her car so she's like 'oh yeah that's my dad'. and Mary's IMMEDIATELY just like oh God oh fuck I almost got my son in law killed no wonder Dean hates me. she's fully spiralling about her kids not trusting her so much they're hiding an entire family from her. even BEFORE they knew about the brits Dean didn't tell her?? she spends all night on google taking like those dumb 'am I homophobic??' quizzes to see if she said or did anything to make him uncomfortable and she literally goes to a library and prints out articles about how to support your gay child. turns into one of those hardcore gay rights moms over night. Claire just thinks Mary's doing this because she's figured out Claire's a lesbian and she finds it sweet.

Dean eventually starts responding to Mary's texts again and Mary just wants to tell Dean she knows everything so they can Properly make up and move forward but all the parenting books she's been reading insist that she needs to let him come to her with this. she starts dropping hints though, like 'oh I'm working with this hunter named Claire', thinking he'll take the bait and tell her he's Claire's father but he's just like 'tell that criminal she has 32 hours to return my ivory grip gun or else I'm actually filing a police report against her' and Mary's not in any place to critique parenting styles but she's like 😬 and tells Claire who's like 'tell him they'll never take me alive' and Mary ends up in the middle of dumb banter between these two while Claire's driving but neither of them will admit they're father and daughter and it's driving her INSANE. she just wants to be trusted!!

skdhdj Claire has a p.o. box and one day they stopped by and there was a head of a stuffed unicorn in there as a godfather parody, and Claire calls Dean like 'THAT WAS ALEX'S!!' and Mary hears him cursing over the other line and after they hang up she asks who Alex is and Claire's like 'oh my sister' and Mary's like. YOUR WHAT.

then all the shit with the brainwashing and apocalypse world goes down and by the time she's back in the bunker she's SO over waiting she just wants as normal a family dynamic as she can possibly get so she makes a big show of like getting Dean alone and she has a whole apology speech AND a gay rights speech that she had kids from a local lgbt community group proof read and edit for her. and Dean king of the closet is like thanks! but what the Fuck. and people are fully walking into the library now Sam has popcorn and Mary's like listen sweetheart I know I haven't given you a lot of reasons to trust me but at the very least you could have mentioned I'm a grandmother, I mean the resemblance is uncanny- and Dean's like 'shit you met Ben? is he okay?' and she's like. WHO?? WHAT? HOW MANY CHILDREN ARE YOU HIDING. And he's like well Emma's dead ('WHAT') so who else could you POSSIBLY be talking about?? And Mary's like 'Claire!! obviously Claire!!' and Claire, who's on the other side of the room yells 'EW?!' in a put on offended tone and Dean's like 'no she's Cas' brat?!' and Mary's like. 'well she's not a nephilim like Jack! I know you and Cas are together Dean-' and Dean and Cas are like. um. what drew you to that conclusion. pay no attention to the fact we're blushing and now refusing to make eye contact with each other we Swear we are only simply platonic friends we are NOT in a romantic relationship. and then Jack and Claire are both like 'WHAT YOU AREN'T?!?!' and the night is lost to many many confusing confrontations. this post got away from me.

[aestophobia]

my rtc headcanons except you can't tell which ones are just me projecting

-mischa has absolutely shit eyesight but refuses to wear glasses

-ocean, noel, and constance live in the same neighborhood so they would play together when they were younger

-ocean cannot handle being yelled at and she will cry if you so much as raise your voice to her

-the same applies to if someone gives her constructive criticism she'll be fuming and tearing up

-noel will infodump about the french movies he likes until the others are ready to beat him up

-ricky and constance both had warrior cats phases but ocean had a percy jackson phase

-to build on the mischa having terrible eyesight he's also red/green colorblind

-penny isn't allowed near open flames without supervision

-noel's a picky eater and would rather die then eat something he doesn't like

-ricky and noel bonded over escaping to their fantasy worlds

-they all learned ASL for ricky, mischa and penny learned the fastest

-ocean and noel both hate rollercoasters so the others had to drag the two of them on the cyclone in the first place

-mischa is afraid of needles

-like TERRIFIED but he doesn't say anything because it's not gangster

-penny has a gecko named savannah

-noel has a typewriter but he stopped buying ink for it because he's broke so now it just sits on a shelf

-the blackwood cafe is a safe space for all of them especially ocean and mischa

-mischa and penny are a terrifying duo

-I think it would be so funny if noel was allergic to some random obscure fruit like fucking jackfruit or something

-penny is such a chaotic problem child I swear

-constance, noel and mischa are the only ones that can drive but sometimes penny will get behind the wheel somehow and everyone will be praying for their lives

-and god forbid ricky's in the car with her because they will break multiple laws

-ricky has a bunch of stickers all over his mobility aids

-noel adores candles, they're all over his room to the point where it may or may not be a fire hazard

-ricky loves reading

-penny likes to make daisy chains and she'll make crowns for the other choir members

-mischa likes doing the girls hair

-and ricky's when it gets long enough

-ocean will get SO MAD if you make a pun of her name so naturally everyone does

-noel and ocean are mlm/wlw hostility

-mischa is extremely protective of the choir.

-someone tries to trip ricky? they come back to school two days later with a broken arm.

-a guy is saying something homophobic to noel? mischa coincidentally is suspended the next day.

-constance loves disney movies and makes the others have marathons with her

-noel picks at his nail polish so he has to repaint them after like three days

-penny loves those little bandaids with patterns and she'll just come up and stick them on the others out of nowhere

-noel and ocean are so similar which only strengthens their hatred for each other

-and to build on that they are the sibling relationship

-for someone who loves his little fantasies about dying alone in an alleyway of a disease, Noel is so dramatic when sick and will pray for his own death

-ricky has a favorite cat that absolutely hates him

-in addition there's another cat that adores ricky and after the accident it waited and waited and couldn't figure out why he never came home :(

-ocean has no spice tolerance

-noel gives ocean cute nicknames usually related to her being ginger (I saw this in a fic where he called her things like gingersnap and sunfire and I thought it was adorable)

-sleepovers in mischa's basement!!

I'm going to add more to this if I think of any

[lilakeels]

Huggy Wuggy x Reader with Anxiety

Alrighty so, I personally have anxiety so all these Headcanons will be based off of my own experience with the disorder. It may also be a mix of ADHD since I also have that as well and I'm not good with telling the difference between the two lmao. This story will also be super rushed so forgive me if it comes off odd sounding.

[Trigger warnings: Biting nails, eating your own skin (You'll get why this is needed later lmao), Slow death, Starvation, Sleep Deprivation]

[Also requests are open, please I'm running out of ideas lmao]

[ Whoever sent that request I swear I'm working on it, I've just been busy.]

Your first interaction with Huggy was actually when you had first entered the Playtime CO. building, well it wasn't necessarily a meeting if you could call it that.

You had apparently ran away from home, and had come across the abandoned building.

You had decided to stay there for the night, just to get yourself together before you returned home.

So as soon as you had heard the tape about the intruders you were on high alert, you knew it was probably too late to go back home at this point.

Before you knew it your anxiety had already flared up, it wasn't just the tape that made you nervous, oh no. It was the whole building that made you tense. Something about old creepy buildings just unsettled you, you couldn't really complain though. You were tresspassing.

All this pent-up anxiousness was soon released as you came across the room that the Huggy "statue" was located, instant regret.

You actually ended up staring at him for a lot longer than you had meant to, maybe ten minutes or so?

Yeah, he unsettled you, like a lot.

You had instantly tried to distract yourself by trying to find an exit to another room, soon however you had realized that there was no exit besides the way you came.

You had instinctively began to pick at your hands, specifically at the skin around your nails.

As you continued your little habit you searched the room for a bit, it was full of toys, all of them were of the thing that was in the center of the room.

Soon however your nerves had calmed down, Huggy who was in the center of the room seemed to not make you as nervous.

Boy did that fur look soft now that you think about it.

However you must restrain yourself, you can't hug the fluffy boi. You needed to find a space to sleep.

So you had continued your search, looking through every crook and cranny in the room. You had been looking for a key for what seemed like hours before you finally decided to try and open some of the doors again.

Locked, locked, and all locked.

You had begun to get nervous again, I mean you were seemingly trapped in some random room with no visible way to get out.

That was until you heard a very familiar sound, the sound of metal keys clanking together.

Your head had instantly turned around at the sound, searching desperately for the source of the noise.

You had soon found it however, in the hand of the statue that was placed in the middle of the room.

Your brain almost immediately kicked into overdrive.

Especially when you had noticed the very obvious keys dangling from huggy Wuggy's claws.

Wait he had claws?!

Alright, kinda freaky not gonna lie.

After many failed attempts to unsuccessfully retrieve said item, you had soon became tired of constantly jumping and trying to climb the large fluffy boi.

So you kind of just got upset and sat down.

That was where you stayed for a while, just kinda sitting there.

So as soon as something changed you had noticed it almost immediately.

That change was in the form of the pair of keys getting dropped on your god damn head.

Much confusion ensued.

You had looked up out of instinct, only to be greeted with the sight of the fellow who you were sitting right next to.

Except no, he didn't look like the Huggy Wuggy you were sitting with just moments earlier.

His eyes were much more... dilated to say the least. His mouth was also open slightly revealing what seemed to be rows of needle-sharp teeth.

You kinda just sat there for a moment before it had finally had registered in your head how incredibly close he was to your face.

P A N I C

You had not known you could go as fast as you did until that day.

Like you were gone.

Well as gone as you could have been in a somewhat small enclosed room.

He did end up catching you in the end though.

You were practically going in circles at that point and you were exhausted.

He had grabbed you by the arm and had practically dragged you back to him.

Except he didn't really know what to do with you once he caught you.

You were the first trespasser he had seen in what seemed like ages and he was not quite sure what to do with you.

Mostly all the people that had broken in, usually left before he even got to encounter them.

So he kinda just sat there for a moment deciding what he should do.

All the while you were losing your shit, well internally.

So you headbutted him in his stomach.

You were too low to hit anywhere else and he was holding you too tight to move your limbs to hit him, in your defense.

Which ended up with you both staring at each other.

He honestly didn't what to do so he just let go of you, where else were you gonna go. The store?

That was what you did, you stayed there.

You had since moved as far away from Huggy as possible.

Ever since your unexpected visit, Huggy had noticed something odd about your behavior.

He wasn't sure what was wrong but whenever he got somewhat close to you, you would start picking at your fingers, biting your nails, twirling your hair, and sometimes zone out altogether.

So he decided to try and be around you even more, unaware he was the cause of your stressed state.

Every time you would bring your hands up to your bite at your nails he would kinda just use his claws to push your hands away from you.

He wasn't really sure why you would stare at him for so long after he would do that but he just ignored it.

After a day of being somewhat ignored he suddenly had a thought.

Were you ignoring him because you were hungry?

Maybe if he could find you food you would start paying attention to him?

And thus he began his search for edible food.

Well, he had found... something.

It was old and unedible at that point, who knows how long it had been expired for.

He was kind of upset that you hadn't eaten, but he just went along with it.

Instantly went in for a hug.

You had tensed up as soon as he tried touching you.

Damn, guess you still hadn't trusted him yet.

He did leave you alone for a while after that.

He would just watch you from afar when he was bored.

Your anxiety-induced actions had always confused him but he wasn't sure how he was supposed to ask you about it (mans can't talk)

Soon realized after many hugs later that you were becoming less tense around him.

He also had started to notice the dark circles under your eyes.

Would sometimes instinctively stroke the dark spots, he really didn't know what they meant so he was curious.

He would constantly check up on you.

Slowly but surely your strength would leave you throughout the days.

He would be so upset when you started your anxious habits, more frequently.

But he really did see that it happened all the time now, not just when he was there.

Then one day he caught you biting at the tips of your fingers.

He had rushed over to you disregarding your shrieks as he had clasped his clawed hands over your own, a dark crimson liquid coating his fur.

He didn't know what to think of it then.

So he came to the only rational decision he could think of.

He would stay by your side constantly after that day.

He honestly had wished he had done something sooner to make you feel more comfortable around him.

Even as he hugged your lifeless body, fur-coated in the blood that seeped through your gnawed wrists.

He had wished he had done better.

[Not me spending 10 minutes breaking this story down into bullet points so it's easier for me to read]

[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.

[munsonsduchess]

Hello there, lovely duchess <3

I'd love to see what you come up with for prompt #8!

Take care! :)

-bee

summary: You and Bucky are FWB and you've been together for a while now but that's all about to change warnings: kissing, fluff, swearing, gambling (don't do it kids), mentions of smut a/n: yeah so this took an age and that's because my motivation went on vacation and i had to wrangle it back through customs

Prompts from this list

»»————-　♔　————-««

You’d met the Avengers when Tony had finally had enough of your constant nagging and had agreed to let you meet the team he always spoke so much about - not to mention you wanted to see the people he couldn’t stop complaining about in the flesh - so he’d finally relented and introduced you to everyone as only Tony knew how. With a party.

You’d been so excited to meet everyone you hadn’t even minded when the dark brooding man at the bar had spilled your drink on your dress, he was too handsome for you to be mad and with the gleaming metal arm on his left side there was only one person he could be,

“It’s perfectly alright Sergeant Barnes, it’s just a drink” you’d given him your best smile and offered to buy him a drink instead but he’d refused and you hadn’t seen him the rest of the night. Much to your dismay, he’d been someone you’d been looking forward to meeting the most.

In Bucky’s mind anyway he wasn’t planning on getting too close to you, figuring that if you were Tony’s friend there was a high chance you were just another upper east side park avenue princess. A socialite who only cared about wealth and who she could be photographed next to in newspapers and he didn’t have time for that anymore. He was a different man now.

Then you were around more often, spending time at the compound with Natasha, getting lunch with Wanda, offering to bank roll the team since you had “more money than I know what to do with” and it didn’t seem fair for Tony to have to do everything when he had a family to support as well.

Slowly but surely you wormed your way into the team’s hearts and it got to the point where everyone was asking Bucky what his issue was with you, why did he not like you? Had he even spoken to you?

Bucky had brushed off every question, he’d just ignored the needling and the nagging until finally he couldn’t. He’d blown up at Peter who’s eyes had gone wide as the teenager stuttered out an apology. Bucky hated himself for it, even more so when everyone was walking on eggshells around him afterwards, even Steve and Sam who knew him best.

He’d gone out to clear his head and off all the gin joints in all the world you had to be in the one he chose. With your warm smile and offering to buy his drinks, telling the bar staff to put everything on your tab despite Bucky’s protests that he could buy his own drinks. You just rolled your eyes at him and moved to sit next to him instead.

It ended up with just the two of you in the bar that night, your cheeks rosy from the alcohol and your eyes glassy with tears of joy as you listened to his stories and laughed at his jokes. Maybe you weren’t as bad as Bucky originally thought but he still wasn’t planning on getting closer than he needed to, until you’d put your hand on his thigh when you settled the tab and offered to split a cab.

You’d both ended up tangled in your bedsheets, laughing and joking, gasping and moaning well into the night. It had been a while for both of you and this release was definitely needed, plus you’d ended up teaching Bucky a few things when the initial groping like horny teenagers had worn off.

You’d also introduced him to the term ‘friends with benefits’ which is where you found yourself currently. Of course you both went on dates separately but you found yourself cancelling plans more and more to spend time with Bucky instead. To be curled up on the couch watching a terrible movie which was usually forgotten about halfway through for other more entertaining activities that could be partaken in on a couch.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Maybe it was silly of you to think you could resist having feelings for someone like Bucky, someone so kind, caring, funny and someone you felt so comfortable around but that’s exactly what happened. You’d woken up one morning with the smell of him cooking in your apartment kitchen with the radio playing something you didn’t really care about. You’d curled up in the blankets on the bed and revelled in the domesticity of the whole situation and it had struck you. You really cared for this man and not just as a random hook up.

The only problem was, did Bucky feel the same? Everyone else seemed to think so, when you’d spoken to Steve and Sam and Natasha and Wanda and even Scott they’d all seemed to think you and Bucky were already a couple. So you’d enacted a plan, was it your smartest plan? Probably not. Were you going to do it anyway? Damn straight.

You’d created a new tinder profile and specifically matched with the most boring man you could find. The poor bastard had no idea what he was in for or why you’d decided to go out with him but you needed him to be the human equivalent of the colour beige for the plan to work.

Bringing the man around the compound to meet the team, telling Bucky you couldn’t spend time with each other sexually anymore since you and … Dave were serious now and it wasn’t right to cheat on your boyfriend.

Bucky to his credit had wished you well and was happy you’d found someone, outwardly anyway. He’d known the ‘relationship’ the two of you had couldn’t last, that of course you’d move on and find someone worthy of your time and attention. Did it hurt? Like a bitch but he was going to be the bigger man.

Or at least he had wanted to be. The more you brought Dave around the more Bucky wondered what the hell you were doing with a man like that, he couldn’t make you laugh the way Bucky could, where your nose would crinkle in the middle and you’d gasp for breath. He didn’t know how you liked your coffee in the morning, iced usually and loaded with sugar. He sure as shit didn’t know how you liked to be touched.

It had come to an ugly head one evening when you and Dave had gone for dinner, in a restaurant you and Bucky would hang out in all the time. It was the straw that broke the camel’s back, that and the asgardian mead that Thor had left on his last visit. Bucky had taken a shot for some dutch courage and driven his bike straight to the restaurant pushing past the staff who tried to stop him,

“Y/N” he yelled, causing you to look at him with wide eyes and a surprised expression.

“Bucky, what are you doing here? Is everything alright? Did something happen to Steve or Sam?”

“Forget them and forget this guy too, you’re coming with me” he reached down to where you were sitting and wrapped his metal hand around your upper arm, “come on”

“Bucky no, I’m on a date I can’t just leave!” you protested, “David, I'm so sorry about this”

David opened his mouth to say something but a glare from Bucky told him that wasn’t a wise move. Instead he seemed to shrink back into his seat under the weight of Bucky’s icy glare,

“Come on doll” Bucky said again, hoisting you up from your seat by his grip on your upper arm, “we’re leaving”

“James Barnes! I am not your property, let go of my arm right now! If you have something you want to talk about we can talk about it later, I am with David and you have no right to barge in here like this!”

“The hell I don’t”

“Leave James, we’ll talk about this later”

Bucky was about to rebuke you again but was interrupted by a man in a fancy suit clearing his throat, apparently you and Bucky had caused enough of a commotion that several guests had complained and now both of you were being asked to leave. Which suited Bucky just fine. He grabbed you and pulled you from the booth ignoring your cries and protests and simply pulled you along with him until you both were stood at his bike,

“Come on”

“No! You do not get to manhandle me like you own me and then act like nothing is wrong, if you had something you wanted to talk to me about we could have done it like grown ups”

“Oh yeah? Like Dave? Is that what you do with him? Talk like grown ups?”

“What David and I do is none of your business Barnes”

“It is my business cause you’re my business, you’re my girl not his!”

You blinked at Bucky a few times before you huffed out a laugh, that was definitely confusing. Why were you laughing?

“Oh my god! You couldn’t have said something earlier? You had to make a scene? How am I supposed to come back here now?” you were still laughing, “not to mention I owe Steve $50 because he bet you couldn’t last the month”

“Wha? You and Steve had a bet goin’ about me lastin’?” Bucky was beginning to get agitated now, what the hell were you and Steve betting on?

“Yeah! I mean honestly Buck did you think I really liked David? He’s the most boring human being alive! I mean yeah he’s nice enough but oh my god of course I wasn’t serious about him!”

“Then why were ya out with him?”

“To see what you would do!” you said exasperatedly. Bucky raised his eyebrow, what the hell did you mean by that? “Oh my god how can you be this dense, it’s you I want to be with Barnes, not David. You! So I picked David to see if you would just let me be or if you felt the same way!”

“Wha? You couldn’t have just asked me?” Bucky shoots back, “you had to make this whole convoluted plan?”

“Right because if I’d asked you you’d have said you wanted whatever was best for me and if I wanted to see other people that would be fine and you’d never tell me what you really wanted. At least now I know” you said batting your eyelashes at him “you like me, you called me yours”

Bucky groaned and ran a hand down his face. He’d been an actual idiot. He’d told himself he was fine with you seeing other people, that this was just how the modern world was like. He couldn’t expect to hold onto someone like you forever. Now he’d gotten you kicked out of your favourite restaurant and had put his hands on you in a way he swore he never would. That being said, none of that would have happened if you’d been honest with him, no matter what you thought he’d say to you. Now here you were batting your eyelashes at him like nothing had happened,

“Don’t you dare give me those sex eyes right now! This is a serious situation, here!”

“Oh shut up and kiss me Barnes”

That he could do. Repercussions from his actions be damned. You were his. All his.

»»————-　♔　————-««

Taglist: @metalbuckaroo @doasyoudesireandlive @spicynudlesoup @calisamcro

[kiwinatorwaffles]

i posted a fic on ao3!! :DDD my first ever mcyt fic! and i’m sharing it here too :]

-

title: voidfishing, the new sport that nobody regretted partaking in (eventually, anyway)

characters: xisuma, evil xisuma, grian, doc (mentioned)

word count: 1821

genre: comedy/oneshot

summary: it’s not an average day when xisuma fishes out a random kid from the void.

additional notes: xisuma’s got the tired parent vibes and ex is a little rascal. also evil school is just a recurring joke in my evil x content and i’m not apologizing for it. and. lots of Foreshadowing 😁

here’s the ao3 link! <3

the entire fic will be under the cut!

he really regrets wearing heels.

despite trying to look taller, everybody still bullied him. and to make matters even worse, while he was sulking by the void river, his decision to kick a rock in the most edgy, contemplative matter only caused him to trip like an idiot... and now he's been floating in the void for what? an hour now?

he's hungry. really hungry.

hey, whatever supreme deity is up there, he thinks, raising his arms to the speckled sky above. if you get me out of here i promise i'll never wear heels again! and i'll do all my homework and be a good student!

and maybe god is real, because the moment after he "prayed," a flash of silver descends from the skies, latches onto his shirt collar, and it yanks him up towards the direction in which it appeared from. in an instant, he bursts out from the vacant void and lands on a grassy field, face planting right into the greenery.

from beside him, he hears what sounds like a surprised gasp and a voice exclaiming, "what in the- how?!"

he feels the latch on his collar unhook, and a hand touches his shoulder, lightly shaking him. he freezes, unsure of how to react to this stranger.

"oh dear--" the voice mutters, before projecting, "hey, kid-- are you hurt?"

kid. kid. kid. the word "kid" travels through his ear and stabs into his brain like a needle, causing him to push himself up, angrily shooting back, "I'LL KILL YOU! I'M NOT A KID!" (he's pretty sure he heard his voice crack while yelling, but he really hopes that it's just a figment of his imagination.)

as he turns up to see the face over him, he notices a man dressed in green armor wearing a helmet, furrowed eyebrows showing through the transparent visor. the man seems to ignore the threat, because he only asks, "what were you doing in there– how long have you been in there for?! you look so thin..."

he only blinks at the stranger, having never been more insulted before. i. i’ve always been like this. and i’ve only been in there for. an hour.

and also, why is this man so fucking big? he swears that this green dude must at least be two times his size– that’s not normal, right?

watching his blank face, the man tilts his own head to the side, as if confused towards the silence. “are you understanding what i’m saying? do you speak our language?”

finally sick of this large man’s babbling, he rolls his eyes and grumbles a response (not without lowering his voice a pitch, of course), “yes, i know what you’re saying. will you stop that, now?”

the man’s eyes do soften slightly, though the general look of concern still hangs stagnant on the visible eyebrows. it pisses him off.

“hey, to answer your question,” he grins smugly, trying his absolute hardest to assert at least some amount of dominance. standing up, he crosses his arms and attempts to stand up taller despite his rock-kicking leg absolutely screaming bloody murder to him. “i jumped in there as a test of my power! which i obviously passed!”

raising an unimpressed eyebrow, the armored man only asks, “were you not taught that the void is a dangerous place that only specialized individuals can survive in?”

uh. shit. i did not know that.

“w-well, of course i knew!” he flat out lies, brain stumbling around like a child on ice skates. “it- it just goes to show how strong i am! the void didn’t do shit to me! if anything, it only made me a little hungry from *how long i managed to stay in there!*”

“sure, alright…” the man squints his eyes, but they promptly widen again at the realization of what he just hears. “and hey! watch your profanity!”

***

xisuma decides to take the kid back to his base in the end.

the kid said some stuff about how “he will now be jumping back through the void in order to return to his rightful home to do Powerful Stuff,” and that xisuma should “just leave now before he gets in the way.” to which xisuma responded by taking out an apple, and the kid went nuts.

as the kid followed after him on their way back to his base, xisuma also realized that the kid ran with a limp, leading him to suspect that maybe the child just fell into a void chasm by accident. it was still surprising how he turned out to be… relatively fine, though. depends on how one defines “fine.”

and now xisuma lets the kid loose into his food storage, which probably isn't a great idea, but he can’t turn back now.

as the kid attacks the food chests with an abnormally high amount of violence, xisuma sits down on a box, watching this… thing with interest.

the kid, just like him, wore a similar armored outfit– but it had a red-based color scheme compared to his green. from the back, xisuma could see that the kid had long, white hair with ram horns curling out, and from what he could remember upon first meeting, he knew the kid had nearly ashy-pale skin, pointy ears, and red scleras. on top of that, he also had heeled boots with concerningly high platforms (is this what made him trip?). he’s certainly… different, to say the least. xisuma can’t think of any hermit looking any remotely close to this, and they’re all a diverse bunch as well.

“by the way, kid,” xisuma remarks, watching the mystery child’s head perk up and turn around. “what’s your name?”

“for the last time, i’m not a kid!” the (and xisuma does not change his mind in the slightest) kid retorts, pointing a carrot at xisuma accusingly. “and my name is xisuma, with an ‘x!’ learn it!”

now that’s a name he definitely recognizes.

“my name is xisuma as well…” (the real and original) xisuma cautiously stands up from his spot, slowly making his way towards the white-haired individual. “this cannot be just a coincidence.”

xisuma-the-second only shrugs, then tauntingly leans back against a chest. “well then, get a new name! this one’s already mine.”

“no way!” xisuma narrows his eyes, eyeing the child, who’s now back to reaching in the food chest. “i knew it was weird when i fished someone who looked a lot like me out of the void, when i’m the only one here who can get close to the abyss without being hurt. then you come and say that we have the exact same name!”

“i don’t see why that’s my problem.” fakesuma fishes out an item from the chest and bites into it, directing his gaze away from realsuma. “oh shit, this golden carrot is amazing!”

xisuma facepalms. “that’s yellow dye.”

it seems like this kid is troubled, in more ways than another. xisuma can’t think of any sane person who would be so careless as to trip into the void– even someone with protective powers like himself would still be cautious around such a dangerous entity. and this xisuma bit into yellow dye without a second thought. if that isn’t a sign of issues, then he doesn’t know what is.

sighing and shaking his head, xisuma watches the child continue to eat the yellow dye in a mixture of shock and disgust. he needs to do something about this strange individual… he can’t just leave someone around while working on his base. that could be dangerous for both of them. and who knows if the respawn mechanics work the same for this kid?

“maybe that evil school or whatever doc mentioned could be useful…” xisuma contemplates as he watches his tiny counterpart reach for yet another piece of yellow dye. “though the ‘evil’ in name doesn’t sound very promising, it’s really the only option around here that i could send this guy to while i figure out what to do with him.”

***

“so you’re telling me…” grian strokes his chin, mimicking a beard shape. “you fished evil xisuma out of the void? and now you’re taking care of him?”

“that is the baseline, sure…” xisuma nods over at evil xisuma, who rushes around in the back trying to catch butterflies for his evil biology class. “i’m still not sure what that ‘evil school’ is all about, but he seems to be alright, aside from a few struggling classes.”

grian launches himself up into the air, flapping his wings twice before landing elegantly on xisuma’s shoulder. he then raises his flat palm over his forehead to look over at the teen cursing in some sort of an abyssal language while chasing after the winged insect, giggling at the amusing sight.

“you know?” grian turns to look at his armored friend with a playful grin that spreads to the sides of his cheeks. “for someone with ‘evil’ in his name, he’s not that evil at all! i’d say he’s more funny than bad, really.”

“actually, he decided to go by his ‘evil’ title to distinguish himself from me,” xisuma explained, rubbing the side of his helmet as if to jog his memory. “he told me that evil school gives out the ‘evil’ title to graduates, sort of like a doctor or phd of sorts. though it is quite clear that he is far from graduating…”

grian watches evil xisuma trip over his shoes one more time and bursts out into laughter.

“i’m gonna go mess with his evil homework,” he announces, smugly shifting into a takeoff position. “i think it would be hilarious.”

“please don’t. i don’t want the evil principal calling me over him failing an evil class again.”

ignoring xisuma, grian counts down, “three… two… one!” then bursts off towards the now cursing evil xisuma.

as the scene of grian lifting evil xisuma up by the shoulders and the teen throwing a fit plays out in front of xisuma, the server admin sighes and crosses his arms.

at least it looks like school is distracting evil xisuma from trying to destroy the hermitcraft server, though his power does seem to grow by every season. xisuma does worry for the server reset arriving soon, but he’ll just need to go with the flow, right? besides, he is quite interested to see what new “evil” schemes evil xisuma will come up with in the future.

xisuma huffs, a small smile creeping its way up his face as evil xisuma swats around his net to ward off the cackling harpy plaguing him. when xisuma hears evil xisuma yell out an unprintable swear in the void language, he relaxes in relief knowing that this silly kid won’t be capable of doing anything super terrible anyway.

there’s no way it’ll be something big, he thinks. ex has always been the same. i bet it’ll be something silly, like paintball. or capitalism. either way, i’m sure i can deal with it like i always have.

[captainsimagines]

“I Could Fall in Love”

Happy Valentine’s Day!

I hope you enjoy this little drabble as much as I enjoyed writing it. Cutting it close to midnight on Valentine’s Day but hey, it still counts. xx Moni

BUCKY BARNES X READER DRABBLE

Warnings: none, simply fluff!

Word Count: 3000+

Song Fanfic: Listen and enjoy!

~

     It wasn’t that you hated Valentine’s Day, you just didn’t see it as purely romantic. In your opinion, it was supposed to represent so much more than just romantic love. Friendships, beginnings and endings, the actual historical event, elementary school card giving, baked goods, and a nice dinner for either yourself or in the presence of others. So, no - you didn’t hate it. In fact, you actually quite enjoyed the giddy feeling of seeing other couples go all out for a single day, the sweets that were always available, and the awesome discounts. 

     “Come with us!” Natasha whined, filling up her glass with some oat milk and passing Steve some utensils at the same time. She wasn’t whining excessively, as that wasn’t in her nature, but she did raise her voice as her tone shifted from playful to annoyance. You rolled your eyes and chewed on your bagel, shaking your head dramatically. You plastered on your best grin, but it was overpowered by the massive chunk of bagel in your mouth. So you sat there, stupid bagel-filled grin covering your face, and tiny giggles threatening to escape as Natasha’s face also dropped into a silly one. 

     The rest of the crew was planning on attending a private Valentine’s Day party hosted by a close business partner of Tony’s. It sounded like a lot of fun and a perfect excuse to dress-up, but you had a tiny mission to go on before it. It was not a ‘mission-mission’ so to say- more like a ‘get in, get out, this will literally take two seconds and I could do this any other day’ type of mission. Natasha had given you such a disapproving look when you told her what your actual plans were for tonight, but she expected nothing less. You always had something else up your sleeve. 

     And that you did. 

     Since your mission was a quickie, you would be able to return to the compound before everyone else and bake your special pink cupcakes they all knew and loved. A sweet mixture of vanilla and strawberry, no flavor overpowering the other. You had recently perfected the recipe, only having Natasha and Bucky taste the final product, and because of their genuine surprise and praise, you were ready to bake dozens for everyone proudly.

     She finished her glass and went to wash it. “Still, I think you’re missing out! I hear the food is gonna be great!”

     You shrugged, “Eh, we have food here.”

     You heard Natasha release a tiny scoff, “Please tell me your actual reason before I laugh too loudly and wake everyone up.”

     “I swear, I’ve been putting off this mission for so long that tonight just seemed like the perfect time. Everyone’s occupied- I don’t know. I mean, criminals gotta get laid too, right?”

      Natasha snorted, “That’s very true.” She eyed you suspiciously while drying her glass. 

     “You know, you and Barnes are the only one’s not attending. Obviously, his excuse is that he’s literally on a mission right now but you see my point.”

     “No, I don’t see your point.”

     Natasha smiled, as if secretly knowing your other very valid reason for not attending the party. “We all have dates. You know that if he were here you would be going with him, even as friends. But since you would literally be the only one of us without a date, it seems reasonable you wouldn’t want to attend.”

    Okay, she hit that spot-on. 

    You groaned and lay your arms across the counter dramatically, “Stop, it’s scary how right you are all the time.”

    Natasha laughed and rounded the counter, going over to pat your shoulders. “I’m not making you go. Don’t worry. Just give yourself some self-care and I’ll see you tonight to let you know I got home safe.”

     You nodded and waved goodbye to her, ready to finish the everything bagel you had abandoned. 

          Bucky wasn’t one to dress-up for a night out anymore. He just didn’t have the motivation to do anything unless it involved stake-outs, knitting, painting, and binge-watching some stupid series you were watching. It always happened the same way, too. You would be casually chilling in the main common room of the compound, barely starting the first episode of a new series with stacks of junk food ready for your eager taste buds, when Bucky would randomly come in and ask what you were watching. And the next thing Bucky knew, you two were discussing the hidden elements of The Crown and debating whether a scene actually happened the way it was portrayed. By God, how much Bucky absolutely detested Prince Charles. 

     And you were so determined to knit that sweater for Natasha by her birthday that you came to Bucky’s room five times a day now rather than your usual three. But Bucky was extremely patient, helping you hook the remaining yarn that kept falling off your needles. Each time you pouted over the ‘horrible knot you made’ or when the yarn would tangle, Bucky would grin and tease you about, his stomach twisting pleasurably.

     And each time he would reach over to help you fix it, your heart fluttered ever so slightly. 

     Bucky had actually planned on taking you to that Valentine’s Day party but his mission carried on longer than it was supposed to. Rather than returning a day before the party, he would now be returning towards the middle of it. He wondered if you were still going to go, but he highly doubted it. Not because you had told him explicitly, but because you had joked that if he wasn’t able to go, then ‘why would you bother?’. 

     To see you in that red dress you had jokingly placed over your already clothed body and modeled for him - Yeah, he absolutely hated he was missing this party tonight. 

     His mission had just ended and he was currently on the flight home, resting in his tactical gear but with the headphones you let him borrow in each ear. He chuckled lowly, realizing that most things he had in his possession, whether that be the headphones, hair bands, lotion, and Spotify account, all belonged to you. It brought him some comfort as he fixed himself in his seat, settling on your ‘Love me please?’ playlist to match the special holiday. 

     Lovebug by the Jonas Brothers. Tonight by FM Static. Oh, dozens by Taylor Swift. You’ll Be In My Heart by Phil Collins. And a whole lot of Selena songs. 

     There was one song that caught his attention, as if the title spoke to him. It just made sense. He clicked it, surprised by the upbeat beginning and rhythm of the drums, finally closing his eyes as he heard the melody from the acoustic guitar. 

     He lost count of how many times he replayed that one song as his plane touched land. He quickly woke himself up and gathered his things, ready to jump into a warm shower and watch an episode of The Crown behind your back. The drive to the compound was short and he entered the living quarters somewhat alert. There were no sounds his super soldier ears could hear besides the clicks of keyboards by overtime workers and computers humming. Kind of sad and joyful at once, Bucky realized he was alone for the first time in a long time. Maybe he would try that face mask you had urged him to buy tonight. And those very comfortable pajamas. 

          Ever the procrastinator, you never did go on that mission.

     You were humming along to your Valentine’s playlist as you cracked the eggs into your bowl. You stirred quickly, bowl in your arms and a strike of flour along your unknowing cheek. You had your earphones in, enjoying the solace of such a peaceful night. The mix was coming together nicely and as you waited for the oven to preheat, you took out all of your cupcake supplies to set on the kitchen counter. 

     You could have sworn you heard some noises a few doors down so you took one earphone out to listen closely. At first you heard nothing, but you could have sworn you heard the likes of a toothbrush tapping against a bathroom counter. But as you stood there comically, bowl in your arms and whisk held up like a weapon, you settled on no disturbance. 

     You set the bowl down quietly and ran over to the door, looking down the hallway. Once you saw it was completely empty, you couldn’t contain the grin that spread across your face. You raced back to the kitchen and called for Friday. 

     “Friday? Could you please connect my phone to the living room speakers, please?”

     “Done.”

     You scrolled through your playlist and settled on a song that would for sure damage your vocal cords but delight you nonetheless. 

“I could lose my heart tonight

If you don’t turn and walk away

     You swayed around the kitchen as you traveled to grab each new ingredient, singing at the appropriate level the song called for. 

Because the way I feel I might

Lose control and let you stay

     Bucky had just finished brushing his teeth and putting a warm pair of socks on when he heard Friday play the exact song he had been listening to for the past two hours. At first he wondered if Friday had mistakenly connected his phone to the speakers but realized his phone didn’t even have the Spotify app open. He quickly walked down the cold floors of the hallway, his warm socks somewhat doing their job. He stopped at the living room entrance and leaned his shoulder on the doorway, beaming with a huge grin. 

Because I could, take you in my arms

And never let go

     You twirled around and used the whisk as a microphone, and to both your and Bucky’s surprise, hit every note perfectly. Bucky knew you were a great singer and although he would never admit it, he had heard you singing in the shower quite a few times. It was impossible not to at the level of volume you sang, but each time he would come into your room to grab something random or to ask you a question, he would sit outside the shower door and listen to your angelic voice as it sailed through the steamy air and into Bucky’s ears. But here you were, belting out the exact song Bucky had just learned all the lyrics for on his way home.

I could fall, in love, with you

     It was in that moment that Bucky realized he was in his ‘comfortable pajamas’, which consisted of a loose long sleeve and bottoms set, with a nice dark blue color and white stitching along the pockets and buttons. But the sleeves, incredibly so, were far too long for his arms so he would crunch them up in his palms. And his socks had stripes on them. But he remained still on the door frame, watching you sway to the music and enjoying the scent of your first batch of cupcakes already in the oven.

I could only wonder how touching you

Would make me feel

     You halted immediately when you saw his tall form resting on the door frame, a giant grin plastered on his newly shaven face. You yelped in surprise, putting down the whisk and patting your hands on your little green apron. 

     “Bucky, oh my god! Say something if you’re going to enter a room!”

     Bucky just shrugged, walking over to the kitchen counter, eyes never leaving yours. He leaned over and placed his chin in both his palms, smiling as the music continued playing in the background. “I like this song.”

     You squinted at him, “You know this song?”

     Bucky nodded, holding his hand out now for you to take. “Like I said, I like this song.”

But if I take that chance right now

Tomorrow will you want me still?

     You reached over hesitantly and let Bucky lead you over to the carpet. He wrapped one arm around your waist and rested the other higher up on your back. You wrapped your arms around his neck, allowing for his large frame to sway you both to the rhythm of the song. 

     “Nice pajamas.”

     “Shut up.”

     The room was dimly lit, cupcake aroma circling you two, and his snuggly pajamas seemed to also provide you the warmth you were previously getting from the oven. You smiled up at him, low giggles emitting from your lips. He did the same, enjoying the feel of your body pressed up against his. 

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

     “When did you get back?” you asked, reaching up to touch his shaven cheek. You were undoubtedly curious about the feeling.

     Bucky let you roam your hand all over, “About an hour ago. I didn’t think anyone was here.”

     You chuckled, “I am! I told you I wasn’t going to bother going to that party if my plus one wasn’t coming!”

     Bucky lifted his arm and twirled you slowly, happy that you followed his lead. “So, I’m your plus one now?”

     You rolled your eyes, “Always.”

I could fall, in love, with you

     “How did you even hear about this song?” you asked, hands now resting comfortably on Bucky’s chest. He had his arms wrapped around you, hugging you to his chest as you two swayed. 

      “We share a Spotify account, doll.”

     “Yeah, but it’s a love playlist. Were you just in the mood for some ballads and stumbled across this one?”

      “Exactly. It’s quite the tearjerker.”

And I know it’s not right

And I guess I should try

To do what I should do

     He looked so relaxed at this moment, fresh and calm, enjoying the dance he pulled you into. He was resting his chin on the top of your head so you felt his little puffs of air escape his nostrils. And as he breathed in, you could feel his chest rise and lower below your palms. You were tempted to reach up and grab his face, pull him into yourself and share a sweet kiss, but you decided against it. For some reason you knew that this was different. You had snuggled before during naps or binge watching, but they never had a romantic undertone. And if you acted upon your desires, you were frightened it just might ruin your friendship. It took you two years to build up such a rapport with this man, and dare you say you were extremely proud to harbor some of his deepest secrets, and him yours. But his breathing calmed you immensely, as if the gentle rhythm was enough to put you to sleep, and you wondered if he was thinking about the same thing. 

But I fall in love, with you

So I should, keep this to myself

And never let you know

     Bucky seemed to hug you tighter as the lyrics encircled the room. Over the last few weeks he had felt a shift in your relationship, where sharing food was no longer as innocent as it seemed, barging into each other’s room was not seen as drastic, and partaking in each other’s hobbies was never a bore. Steve had commented on it before, asking Bucky if there was something between you two. And Bucky confided in both Steve and Sam, hands pulling at his hair as he paced in a safe room and his friends sitting patiently on the lone couch. They let him act out his worries in peace, and once Bucky tired himself out they both explained how he should ask you out or how to bring up the topic with you. Bucky listened intently and pushed down the tiny voice in his head that joked about Steve being the one to give him romantic advice. But if he ended up with you on his arm after this little pep talk, it would all be worth it. 

     But now the song was coming closer to its end, and he knew that if he didn’t act now then he probably wouldn’t have the courage to bring it up ever again. He leaned down to your left ear, and whispered the lyrics to you. In Spanish. 

Siempre estoy soñando en ti

Besando mis labios, acariciando mi piel

Abrazándome con ansias locas

Imaginando que me amas

Como yo podía amar a ti

[I am always dreaming of you

Kissing my lips and touching my skin

Anxiously hugging me

Imagining that you love me

Like how I love you]

     You knew Bucky knew several languages. You knew. But it made you incredibly excited and hot that he specifically knew Spanish. He spoke in such a gentle manner, breath hitting your skin and voice practically drowning your mind. It was all foggy for a moment, but you quickly refocused your attention on his face. 

     “Oh, wow.”

      Bucky smiled, “What?”

     You scoffed and swatted his chest lightly, “Don’t ‘what’ me! You just confessed you like me!”

     Bucky pushed you away for another twirl under his arm, but kept you at arms length once you turned around. “No, I confessed I love you.”

     You stumbled slightly, staring at him with wide eyes. You thought about how absurd that confession was, but as quickly as that thought entered your mind, it left - because let’s face it, you did know each other for over two years and were best friends. This was right. This felt right. 

     “You love me?”

     Bucky breathed in deeply but your reaction didn’t change his mind. It was now or never. “Yeah, I do. Seemed like the moment to tell you.”

     You grinned, pushing your body forward to be engulfed by his strong arms once more. “And to think you could have just told me at this damn party when I was looking all hot without freaking flour on my face.”

     Bucky let out a loud laugh that originated from the pit of his stomach and reached his hands up to your face. He pulled you in and kissed you sweetly, the taste of your lip gloss driving him wild. He tasted like toothpaste and chapstick, a perfect combination for your superhero. 

     “I love you, too.” Bucky let his eyes close in complete bliss. 

     You could have stayed like that forever, but as you left his lips and looked up at him, you suddenly remembered you never set a timer. 

     You pushed Bucky away, your sudden strength sending him backwards onto the couch. “My cupcakes!”

      And as you rushed to pull the burnt tops from the oven, you could hear Bucky slide off the couch and hit the floor, his laugh louder than the speakers. 

I could fall, in love

With you.”

~

Happy Valentine’s Day. All the love. xxMoni