#And he's probably getting in his van to go to a) a film set away from home b) a secluded location in the woods

[flurmitcraff]

My theory about why nobody can be normal about Mumbo Jumbo is that he seems like the kind of person who is really fun and funny and you'd love to hang out with but is kinda difficult to keep in contact or schedule time with because he's always everywhere both mentally and location-wise.

[waitimcomingtoo]

Come See About Me

Pairing: Tom Holland x reader

Synopsis: Tom realizes he got you all wrong and slowly falls as he learns more about you during the press tour

Masterlist

“Oh shoot. I’m press with Y/n all week.” Tom said as he read an email from his team.

“Is that a bad thing?” Harry asked him.

“Not necessarily. I just don’t really know her that well. She was super reserved on set for the few days I shot with her. I wonder why they paired me with her.”

“Well, you’re the same age, right? The movie team probably just want to start romance rumors for publicity.”

“I don’t think that will happen. I barely got to know her during filming. I doubt anyone will see chemistry between us.” Tom replied. He started pacing around his hotel room and felt uncharacteristically nervous for the day ahead.

“Well for your sake, let’s hope you don’t see chemistry between you either.” Harry snorted.

“How do you mean?” Tom frowned.

“You know how messy relationships in the public eye can be. Just don’t go falling in love with this girl, okay? I do not want to watch you pine after your dark and mysterious costar.” Harry warned him.

“Psh. I won’t fall in love with her. That would never happen.” Tom scoffed and continued scrolling through his phone. He ended up on Instagram and saw that you had recently posted a photo. It was just a simple selfie in your hotel room which was probably just a few doors down from Tom’s. He found himself smiling and gave the photo a like. He may not have gotten to know you on set, but there’s no reason he couldn’t get to know you now.

“But if I did, why would that be bad?” Tom asked as he deep stalked your Instagram.

“The way I see it, there are two outcomes if you choose to pursue her. Option one is you get swept up in the excitement of promoting the movie and start reading into every little interaction between the two of you because that’s what the public is doing. So you convince yourself you’re in love with her and maybe she’ll even convince herself of the same thing. But once the press tour is over and you get to be with each other without any reason or purpose, you realize you never actually liked each other. And that’ll just end up breaking both your hearts. Even worse if only one of you realizes you never actually liked the other. God. That would be a nightmare.” Harry shivered.

“Okay.” Tom said slowly. “That was oddly specific. So what’s the other outcome?”

“You fall in love with her on this press tour and then it ends before you get a chance to tell her. So she flies off to film another movie and you’re stuck kicking yourself for not being honest with her sooner. And I’m stuck watching you whine about it.” Harry said simply.

“Or, hear me out, secret third option.” Tom proposed. “I fall for her and she falls for me and we have a great relationship. And maybe it lasts and maybe it doesn’t. But at least we gave it a shot. That could happen, right?”

“Maybe. But either way, she’s getting on a plane at the end of this press tour. And you can’t fall in love with someone who’s worlds away. Remember that.” Harry reminded him.

“I’m not gonna fall in love with her.” Tom insisted.

“Promise?” Harry asked skeptically.

“Yeah. Promise.” Tom said weakly. He looked at your picture one more time before shutting his phone off.

The next morning, Tom got into a black van that was going to take the cast to the building where the interviews were taking place. You got into the car shortly after with a huge smile on your face that Tom had never seen before. You were in a nice dress and full glam already, unintentionally earning yourself Tom’s full attention.

“Good morning.” You said enthusiastically as you sat in the seat beside him. He was slightly taken aback by how friendly you were being since he had only ever seen you being quiet and reserved.

“Oh, hello.” He smiled in surprise. “Good morning to you too, darling. How are you doing?”

“I’m really excited for today.” You admitted. “I haven’t done a big press tour like this before. I know they can be a little boring and repetitive but I can’t wait.”

“Yeah. These tours are pretty crazy. You get to see a lot of amazing places which is really cool. But you also get to answer the same question 100 times a day for a month straight. You’ll learn the highs and the lows pretty soon.”

“I’m ready for it all. But thanks for the warning. I appreciate any tips I can get.” You chuckled.

“You’re welcome. And don’t worry. You’ll get used to waking up at the crack of dawn and having a bunch of people you’ve never met poke you with makeup and hair stuff.”

“When?” You asked through a yawn. “Because I have a full face of makeup on before my brain is fully awake and it feels so very, very wrong.”

“Not soon enough.” He sighed. “I’ve learned to stay half asleep while the nice ladies apply my concealer.”

“Oh, so this complexion isn’t natural?” You teased and pointed to his face.

“Nope. You’re not the only one in full glam right now, darling.” He humored you, making you laugh.

“Careful. You don’t know if you can’t trust me yet. I might sell that piece of bad boy information to a news site and get you exposed.” You warned. It was Tom’s turn to laugh and he felt amazed that he had never seen this side of your personality before.

“I hope you don’t. I was just about to say that I’m glad I can share your first big press tour with you but now I feel we may have begun an enemies arch.”

“No. We can’t be enemies.” You whined playfully. “Because I was gonna say that I’m glad you’re here too. You always seem so relaxed and funny in interviews. I’m really hoping I don’t come off as nervous as I feel today.”

“Don’t worry. You won’t. It’ll feel just like a conversation.” He assured you. He was pleased to know you were a watcher of his interviews and wondered what else he’d uncover about you that day.

“Thank. I really appreciate you helping me with all this.”You said sincerely.

“It’s no trouble. If you have any other questions, just ask. I’ll help wherever I can.” He told you.

“Thanks, Tom.” You smiled at him. He smiled back and suddenly remembered what Harry had said the night before about not falling in love with you. Tom was just one conversation in and already struggling to keep his promise.

Once the van arrived at the building, you and Tom had makeup touch ups and were then sent into the junket room.

“Wow. I haven’t seen the poster yet.” You gasped and touched the poster with gentle fingertips. Tom watched you admiring it and smiled when he saw how proud you looked.

“You look good up there. I hope to see you on more posters.” He said and nudged you slightly.

“Like in Playboy?” You asked and looked insulted.

“What?” Tom gulped. “No, no, no. I didn’t-“

“I’m just messing with you.” You cut him off and nudged him back. He felt his hearts too racing and cracked a smile.

“You really had me for a second there, darling. I didn’t realize you had such a sense of humor. I guess I never heard you say much on set.”

“Thats because I found it hard to shake my character after filming all day. I guess I’m not used to separating that yet. I loved my character and all but I’m so glad to be done shooting her. She’s so dark and dramatic. It really affected my mood on set.” You told him as you both sat down in your chairs.

“Oh, wow. So you’re not quiet? You were just in character?”

“Quiet? I’ve never been described as quiet.” You laughed. “I was just in my emo phase on set because the material I was shooting was so dark. It bummed me out all day.”

“But you’re not bummed out today?” He asked with a coy smile.

“Fuck no. I’m ready to party.” You whispered to him just as the journalist came in. He burst out laughing at the unexpected expletive and earned himself a look from the journalist.

“Well alright then.” He chuckled.

That was the first of many times you made Tom laugh that day. The more interviews you did together, the more he learned about you and your personality. He paid attention to every anecdote and personal story you shared and was more and more fascinated each time.

When it came time for day two of the press tour, he could not wait to get back in there with you. The interviews were in the hotel that day and Tom got to the junket room first. When you got there, you handed him a hot cup of tea.

“For you.” You smiled and sat beside him. Tom looked at you curiously and you gestured for him to sip it. He took a sip and widened his eyes when he tasted it.

“This is exactly how I take my tea.” He said incredulous.

“I know. I was listening when you ordered at breakfast yesterday.” You said proudly.

“Thank you, darling. I really appreciate that.” He smiled fondly at you before taking another sip.

“Well I wanted to thank you for all your help yesterday.” You smiled shyly. “I was really nervous yesterday until we talked in the car. You made my first press day really memorable. So I did the normal courtesy of eavesdropping on you and brought you your favorite tea.”

“That was very kind of you. And you made my day yesterday a lot better than I was expecting so I should be thanking you too.”

“Then I’ll loudly tell someone else my favorite way to drink tea so that you can eavesdrop and surprise me.” You joked as the journalist walked in.

“How are you guys doing today?” The journalist asked to start the interview.

“I’m doing really well now that Y/n brought me tea.” Tom answered and took another sip.

“I’m also doing really well but because Tom didn’t bring me tea.” You said and looked at Tom to see if he found it funny.

“Why would that make you happy?” He laughed.

“Because I hate tea.” You shrugged.

“What? Don’t you know that is the worst thing you can say to an English person? And you just told me you had a favorite tea.”

“That was a joke. I actually hate tea.” You admitted.

“How can anyone hate tea?” Tom asked in exasperation.

“It’s just like hot, flavored water. I don’t understand what’s good about it. I hate soup too.“

“Soup too?” Tom gasped and pretended to clutch his petals.

“I think soup is so nasty. Why would I ever want to eat hot blended food?”

“If you hate soup and you hate tea, then what do you do when you’re sick?”

“I watch Fantastic Mr. Fox under my covers like a normal person.” You answered, making him laugh.

“This is very disturbing information to learn so early in the morning. You’ve surprised me, darling.”

“I’m sorry you had to find out like this.” You shrugged with a laugh.

The next day, Tom was pleased to see you already waiting in your chair for the interview to start. You were texting on your phone but looked up when he came into the room. Your makeup artists was touching up your lipstick so you couldn’t smile at him and opted for a wink. He found himself blushing at the wink and sat beside you.

“Morning, darling.”

“Good morning. No tea today?” You teased.

“I’ve already had my tea, for your information. I chugged it while I got my makeup done.”

You laughed but he wasn’t actually kidding about getting his makeup done. He was just happy that it made you laugh. Your makeup artists finished up and you checked your makeup in your phone camera.

“You look pretty.” Tom said before he could stop himself. You looked over at him in surprise before smiling.

“Why, thanks. So do you.” You said and shot him another wink. He blushed and looked down at his lap at the compliment.

“God, I’m gonna be thinking about lunch this entire interview.” You whispered to him.

“You didn’t eat at the craft service table?”

“I can’t eat that early in the morning.” You waved your hand. “It makes me nauseous. Now I’m wishing I did though. My kingdom for a cheese stick.”

“I hate cheese.” Tom grimaced.

“What? Even in stick form?” You asked him.

“Even in stick form.” He humored you. “And you can’t judge me because you hate the two most comforting foods on earth.”

“I’m judging you so hard right now.” You mumbled. Tom laughed as an idea came to him.

Before your next interview, Tom made a quick stop at the bakery across the street. You were already in the room waiting to start by the time he got back. He quickly fixed his hair before holding out a little brown paper bag.

“For you.” He said with a bashful smile.

“What is this?” You asked as you took the bag.

“Open it.” He said as he sat beside you. You gave him a curious look before opening the bag.

“Scone?” You gasped and looked up at him.

“Scone!” He smiled proudly.

“You got me a scone? Why?” You wondered and took the stone out of the bag.

“Because it was easier to find than a cheese stick.” He chuckled.

“I love you.” You cupped his chin before taking a bite of the scone. Tom froze and felt his face turn bright red at your words. You realized he had gone quiet and looked over at him.

“Sorry. Was it too soon to say that?” You asked with a mouthful of scone.

“I think so. Aren’t you supposed to wait three months?” He chuckled and touched a cold hand to his burning face.

“Too bad. The introduction of the scone sped up our relationship and now we’re in love.” You shrugged and took another bite. Tom laughed again and looked down at his laugh.

“So, uh, speaking of our relationship. Have you seen the way fans have been shipping us since our last few interviews hit the Internet? How weird is that?” He said and forced a laugh. He didn’t actually find it weird, he just wanted it see how you felt about the possibility of a relationship.

“I was actually deep into the fan edits last night to be perfectly honest with you.” You said through a laugh.

“Were you?” He asked in surprise.

“I was. And I heard that we’ve been secretly dating since May. Did you know that?”

“I did. I forgot to tell you. I’m sorry, darling. It must’ve slipped my mind.” He played along.

“That’s okay. I can’t be mad at you since you blessed me with a scone.”

The journalist came in once you had finished your scone and the interview began. Tom was barely paying attention to the questions and only focused on hearing your answers. He loved that he wasn’t getting to learn new things about you that he was too shy to ask.

“Unpopular opinion?” The journalist asked.

“A lot of people think cats are girls and dogs are boys but the real take here is that all seagulls are boys.”

“Woah, what? What makes all seagulls boys?” Tom asked you.

“A girl would never act like that.” You said simply, making Tom laugh.

“My unpopular opinion is that Y/n’s best movie is Look Mom, No Hands.” Tom said, making you burst out laughing.

“I know you did not just bring up my Disney Chanel original movie from when I was 11.”

“Yes I did. Because I watched it last night and I cried when you made the winning goal even after your glasses broke from the soccer ball hitting you in the face.”

“Oh my God.” You laughed. “The drama.”

“It was! The opposing team totally kicked it into your face on purpose because they knew you were the underdog. But nevertheless, she persisted. You made the winning goal and your team won the championship.”

“Wow. Way to spoil my movie from 15 years ago. And why were you even watching that?”

“Because I needed to know who I was working with everyday. It’s a part of your lore. Now that I know you’ve starred in a DCOM, I know I can trust you.”

“I was not the star. Bridget Mendler was the star. I was just the quirky best friend.” You reminded him, making Tom laugh.

“Well you were the only one I was looking at, okay darling? You were the star for me.” He said as he looked over at you. You smiled at his answer and nodded your head.

“Good answer. Favorite snack?” The journalist asked.

“Oh no. You’re gonna think I’m weird.” You smiled sheepishly.

“What? I could never, darling. What is it?” Tom asked and turned in his chair to face you.

“I put mustard on popcorn.” You grimaced.

“What the hell?” Tom’s nose scrunched in disgust.

“See! I knew you’d think I was a little freak.”

“Mustard? On popcorn? Why would anyone do that?”

“You’re thinking it’s worse than it is. Yellow mustard on lightly salted popcorn is really good, okay? Don’t knock it until you try it.”

“You’re gonna have to make it for me. Because I cannot imagine it’s good.” Tom shook his head.

“If I can get my hands on some mustard during this press tour, I will be at your door in a heartbeat.”

“It’s a date.”Tom replied, making you smile.

“It better be.” You answered, and he returned the smile.

Tom was fully in it now. Every second that he wasn’t with you, you were the only thing on his mind. You started spending your evenings together and grabbed dinner every night after your interviews. He was falling fast and getting worse and worse at hiding it. He posted a photo of the two of you that the paparazzi had taken while you were out to dinner and captioned it “I’d wait out in the cold all night just to take pictures of her too”. He tagged you and it wasn’t long before you were in his comments saying “he’s so obsessed with me it’s honestly embarrassing”. He smiled at the comment and wrote back “yes, and?” before going to bed.

The press tour was coming to an end and on the last day, Tom walked into the junket room to find only one chair in the room.

“Oh. No Y/n?” Tom asked his manager.

“Nope. Solo interviews today.” They replied. Tom faked a smile and sat in his chair. He hoped his disappointment wasn’t as obvious as it felt as he gave the interview alone. He did a few more solo interviews throughout the day and eventually got to his last one. It wasn’t long before the door opened up and you walked into the room with Tom’s water bottle.

“Hi. I’m crashing. Sorry.” You smiled sheepishly and walked into the room.

“That’s quite all right. Do you want a chair?” The journalist asked you.

“I’m good.” You smiled politely and sat on Tom’s knee. He immediately blushed and looked up at you.

“What are you doing here, darling?” Tom grinned.

“I finished early so I brought you juice.” You said and handed him the water bottle.

“What? No way.” He smiled in appreciation and opened up the water bottle to see apple juice inside.

“Juice!” You cheered.

“Juice!” He echoed. “Thank you, darling. What a nice surprise.”

“Well I had to get you back for the scone.“ You told him.

“So Tom, I have to ask about your Instagram post from yesterday. You tagged Y/n in an interesting place, Tom. Care to comment on that?” The journalist asked now that you had joined the interview.

“He tagged me there because it’s where you can usually find me.” You chuckled.

“Wait, I’m lost? Where did I tag her?” Tom asked. You and the journalist exchanged a look before you pulled out your phone to show Tom his own post from the night before. He had accidentally tagged you right on his crotch, making him turn red when he saw his mistake. And when he pieced together what you meant by what you had just said, he turned even redder.

“Oh my God. I swear, I’m just Instagram stupid. I didn’t mean to tag her there.” Tom explained.

“Yes he did. He tagged me in my location. Because that’s where I am.” You kept up the joke just to tease him.

“Where?” The journalist laughed.

“On Tom’s dick.” You shrugged. Tom covered his red face with his hands as you and the journalist laughed.

“People know that about me. If they can’t find me, they don’t ask “hey where’s Y/n?” because they already know where I am. It’s my happy place. My sanctuary. My home away from home.” You continued.

“No. No more. My mum watched these.” He playfully scolded you.

“Hey, you started this.” You reminded him.

“And I’m ending it.”

“Actually, I’m the one who has to end it. That’s all the time we have. Thanks guys.” The journalist said. The last interview was done, meaning the press tour was officially over. You stood up and adjusted your skirt before looking at Tom. He smiled softly but felt his disappointment return. The tour was over which meant today was his last day with you. He knew you’d keep in touch, but it would never be like this again, and that’s made him sad.

Instead of wallowing in his sadness, Tom did something about it. He stopped by the corner store before making his way to your hotel room. In his way there, he ran into his brother Harry. Harry took one look at the bag of popcorn in his hands and knew what was happening.

“You fell in love with her, didn’t you?” Harry snorted.

“Shut up.” Tom groaned. “I can still fire you.”

“You did the one thing you said you wouldn’t do. Now look at you. One your way to eat the most American combination of foods I have ever seen. You’re a disgrace to your homeland.”

“I couldn’t help it, okay? She made me fall for her. It’s all her fault, really. Now leave me alone. I have a girl to surprise with a disgusting snack.” Tom said and went on his way. He took a deep breath before knocking on your door. You opened your door for him and he held up his bag of supplies.

“Hey, you. What’s this?”You raised an eyebrow.

“Mustard and popcorn. You little freak.” He said with a teasing smile. Your lips curved into a smile as you stared at him.

“Get in here.” You instructed.

He went into your room and shut the door behind him as you poured the bag popcorn into two bowls. He did his best to hide his disgust as you squirt mustard over them both.

“Here. You’re gonna love this.” You said as you handed him his bowl.

“It smells like mustard.” He grimaced.

“Well, that’s 50% of the ingredients.”

“Okay. I’m doing it. I’m eating one.” He said and popped a mustard covered piece of popcorn into his mouth. You watched him as he chewed it and could tell he hated it.

“Well?” You asked.

“I’m gonna throw up.” He answered.

“Spit it out.” You laughed.

“No. You like this so I’m gonna force myself to like it too.” He said a begrudgingly swallowed the popcorn. You laughed at him but your smile slowly faded and you looked a little upset.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked you.

“I don’t know. I’m feeling kinda down tonight.” You told him.

“You are? What’s bothering you?”

“I guess I’m just sad the tours over. I don’t like when things end.” You admitted with a sad smile.

“I’m sad it’s over too. They usually exhaust me but I don’t know. I particularly enjoyed this one.” Tom replied sheepishly without meeting your eyes.

“You did?” You asked as you ate your popcorn.

“I did. Mostly because I enjoyed getting to know you.” He admitted and finally looked up at you. You smiled in surprise and scooted closer to him. Tom gulped and looked down at his lap. The tour was officially over so if he didn’t want you to get on a plane without ever knowing how he felt, he was gonna have to speak now.

“You know, before the tour started, my brother made me promise that I wasn’t gonna fall for you.” Tom admitted.

“What?” You laughed softly. “Why would he make you promise that?”

“I don’t know. He said it would only end in two ways.” Tom said and looked into your eyes with a sheepish smile.

“Which were?” You wondered.

“We get caught up in the excitement of the movie so we start a fling and then breakup when the tour ends.”

“Well that didn’t happen. So what was the other option?”

“I fall for you and never tell you. And the tour ends and you get on a plane and I regret it for the rest of my life. But I guess that option didn’t happen either since I told you.” He said as he never dropped your gaze. You stared into his eyes for a moment as you processed what he had just admitted.

“Well, what if there was a secret third option?”

“Secret third option?” Tom asked with intrigue.

“I mean, just because the tour is ending that doesn’t mean it has to be the end of you and me, does it?” You said and leaned in even closer.

“It doesn’t?” He gulped at your close proximity.

“I don’t think so. And look. You bought me food. That makes this is our first date.” You explained as you held up your bowl of popcorn.

“Well I’m happy to hear that but don’t expect a kiss with your mustard breath.” Tom mumbled out of the corner of his mouth.

“What was that?” You played along.

“I said you’re so pretty and I have a giant crush on you and want us to be together.” He said quickly.

“Much better.” You smiled and popped some popcorn into your mouth.

Tag List 🏷️

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[idlerin]

nonsense — 29. helpless, breathless

“you’re sick,” you scolded as discreetly as you could as you passed by oikawa on your way to the tent. it was a barely noticeable phrase but you knew he heard. he’s not supposed to be wandering this area without someone assisting him, he caught your eye whilst marching on under the scorching heat as another feat of wonders of working in general— today was a bit different, the cast and crew had to go travel to a secluded beach two hours away from the city to film. oikawa’s worsening condition was even more evident in broad daylight and not in the confines of a studio, well, to you, since no one else has suspected a thing with how he looked perfectly fine objectively and how he acted completely normal, only people who truly knew him and his little ticks would notice.

you could feel his gaze on the back of your head and sense he started following after you, in case his shadow you spot in your peripheral vision wasn’t enough. you glance to the side to see everyone busy with setting up the set, but surely, there was someone who was going to be looking for oikawa. he most probably sneaked out of his van because his head ached too unbearably, and whenever he had a headache you remember he thought walking would help in easing the pain.

you let out a heaving breath as you balance the folders tucked in your arms, turning to the right the moment you were supposed to enter the tent, continuing on your trek through the white sand, far enough to be hidden behind a large rock. right then, you turn abruptly and huff at oikawa.

he was tucked in one of his hoodies, eyes wide with bleariness, the first thing he says is a lie, "i'm not sick."

it was so unconvincing you were offended that he would think that would work on you. he sees the look on your face and backtracks, looking to the side, at the ocean and juts his lower lip out like a child who didn’t want to give in but knows he's already caught so he didn’t really have any other choice, "okay… i'm not very sick."

you leered at him, and with firm determination, removed a hand on the folder you're clutching to place a hand on his forehead, “you’re burning!” you say with alarm.

oikawa finally looks at you, raises a brow, the corner of his lips turning up subtly, he had the gall to be amused by this and for what? “in your words, that’s excessi–”

you use the same hand that was previously on his forehead to slap his chest, half to scold him, half to shut him up, “have you had a check up with your doctor?"

“well, i.. uhm i didn’t have.. time," oikawa tucks his hood to cover himself more, wincing at the heat. his headaches are acting up again, you deduce.

"have you been eating?" you size him up, the entirety of his 6 foot 1 form slouching, like he was trying to make himself look more meek so you would go easier on him.

"uh ye-" oikawa and you lock eyes, you glare at him, he sighs, "i've been eating enough to not starve," he offers.

"so you haven't been eating enough," you seeth. before you could start scolding him again you hear voices starting to get near, your eyes widen a fraction before you hiss at him to go along first, begrudgingly.

oikawa looks back at you with hesitance before you nudge his shoulder for him to go before the both of you would get caught– but no, those aren’t the right words, it made it sound as if you two were doing something suspicious that you currently would not like to expand on, you were merely looking out for him as a.. as a concerned citizen.

after urging him away, you hear him talking to a few people, explaining how he wanted to see the view and wandered around, so these were the people looking for him. he managed to divert their attention to go back to the site, all while you thought you looked stupid hiding behind a big stupid rock. after a few minutes you came running back to the tent to deliver the files, apologizing about being late. you think they said that it was fine, you weren’t sure, since the response you were given was in the form of "hm" and pointing to where you should leave it.

you went to seek out akane, who was helping people out with the set because she finished her menial tasks earlier— at least until someone were to order her to do something. you offered to lend a hand and it wasn't your fault your gaze tended to wander to a certain brown haired stubborn ill person who was conversing with the director over you wouldn’t know what instead of getting as much rest as he can with the shooting not officially beginning.

you swear he wants to make you worry.

wait.

you didn't have to worry about him this much.

you groan internally.

but you do, and you really can't stop.

alright, you admitted to not hating him, a sad fact, and you did embarrassingly admit to missing him as well, let us point out that he said it first, so you could hardly blame yourself for responding. you were still unsure on what you wanted to do with your lingering feelings. what did you want? did you want him? did you still want to be with him?

ah.

you freeze in the middle of your shocking realization with thy self, eye twitching but eventually making yourself snap out of it at the expense of making everyone else think you were being weird, by everyone else you really meant akane, who was beside you and had a front row seat to your complicated emotions that really weren’t all that complicated but it feels as if it is.

having this little moment in the middle of bustling people really wasn’t convenient, oh god, you and your horrible timing. you can't help yourself and just stop looking at his direction, you should stop, so what if—

"oikawa-san!" a shrill startled voice snapped you out of your argument with yourself as you glance at the direction of the commotion, as with everyone who was within range. your eyes glance worriedly over to where oikawa was being helped up by his manager and a person who was near and within reach. you watch as oikawa tries to shake it off with laughter, telling everyone to continue with what they were doing. your hands flex on the box you were carrying, resisting the urge to go assist him. you can't do that, everybody would think it’s weird.

"are you alright, oikawa-san?" you heard someone ask. you go on with your work as with everybody else and let the few people there handle the situation.

you keep your ears open on their end though.

you hear oikawa's laughter, "i'm alright, just got a bit dizzy, perhaps it's too hot here?" he excuses, you walk away and didn't get to hear what the director, who was still there, and oikawa’s manager, said. you hope they're telling him to go and rest, they probably were, but oikawa was probably insisting that he was fine and more than ready to work.

"psst, why are you so distracted?" akane bumps your shoulder with hers. you blink a few times, a stuttered out 'what?' your only response.

"exactly! what's the matter with you today? you should be enjoying, it's fun to be out here for a change! it's so peaceful!" akane grins, emphasizing the 'out here' with her arms spread and pointing out the view, despite the many equipment placed in the secluded area. the peacefulness was the onslaught of people busily and methodically working. 

"it's nothing, maybe i just lack a bit of sleep," you smile at her to keep her at bay.

akane just nods and crosses her arms, free from holding stuff, which reminds you to put what you were holding down, "hey, do you think oikawa-san is okay? the way he lost balance out there is kinda worrying you know?"

tell me about it. little did she know that's exactly what you were stressing about.

you watched behind one of your superiors as oikawa and another actor— kawashima moyashi, a rising actor on his own right— was acting out their scene. everyone was dead silent watching everything play out. it was already around four in the afternoon and the filming for the day was almost complete, according to your supervisor who was also very tired and couldn’t wait to go home early for once. the scene playing out had been repeated two times now because oikawa was dissatisfied with how he performed.

once the director yelled cut, oikawa immediately went out of character, “was that alright?”

the director agreed cheerily, enthusiastically saying, “perfect! i loved it, truly!” —wow you were watching the political hierarchy of filming in person— while the others were clearing the props.

oikawa finally smiled, relieved, and started walking over, his manager trailing behind him with oikawa’s water bottle and jacket.

you keep your eye on oikawa for a little while, only snapping out of it when akane tugs on your arm, saying you guys should head to where akane parked her car— she gave you a ride here. akane pulls on your wrist, eventually when you get a hold of yourself you say, "yeah, yes, okay let's go."

meanwhile, the director talked about oikawa’s further projects and if it was going to interfere with the filming schedule, oikawa reassured him it would be fine, but then the director said no, he was asking so to make the filming schedules suitable for him. oikawa’s manager cut in, saying that oikawa needed to get ready for another shoot this evening and that they had to hurry.

"have you been taking your migraine pills?" his manager asked when they were a bit far away from everyone, on the way to his van. oikawa had a hand clutching his head again which was why he asked if he was taking his pills, the migraines weren’t a new thing after all.

"yes," oikawa replies, keeping it to himself that it wasn’t just a migraine. he can't rest now, he still has a lot to do.

"let's take a break before we go to the shoot. where would you like to go, oikawa?" his manager asked once they were nearing the vehicle. 

"i…" oikawa had to stop walking for a second. his face scrunched in pain, he had to press his other hand to his forehead to help in easing the pain. he only needed to get in the van, why won't his body just cooperate?

"oikawa?" he hears the voice of sato, who seemed more distant than before.

"i'm fi— shit," oikawa leans back on the sleek cover of his van, breathing heavily. "i just need—" swallowing a deep breath, "—a break."

"oikawa perhaps we should…"

his manager was talking but oikawa couldn't understand most of what sato was saying. it was too hot. was he the only one feeling as if it's too hot? but at the same time, it was cold. he was sweating. his hair was rising because of the cold—heat. his chest felt restricted, finding it a bit difficult to breathe. but it's fine, it was going to be fine. sato said they can take a break, oikawa thinks that would be nice. he just needed to close his eyes for a moment and they could get going. he pushes himself off the van and starts, "let's go—"

oikawa falls to his knees. fuck.

"tooru!"

that wasn't sato.

hands were on his shoulders, firm but gentle, "you're so stupid."

[name].

were you being impulsive? yes, absolutely. were you going to regret this later on? also a yes, most probably.

you were talking to akane, fiddling with your phone to pass time because riseki was going to be tagging along but he was finishing some things up back in the site and you both opted waiting for him, but not without being a little mean and chatting in the group chat that you guys were going to leave him behind. that was when your eyes wandered to where oikawa was walking with his manager. you jerked away from your idle position when he leant on his car quite abruptly. you completely leave your post when you watch as his legs go numb.

it was foolish. definitely, his manager was right there, he was going to be fine without you to rush to his side. it was foolish, but now you were kneeling beside him, your hands were clutching his shoulders and you were very frantic.

"don't you dare pass out!" you were angry, biting your lower lip furiously. one of your hands reached up to brush his hair away from his face because you noticed that he was sweating a lot.

"[n/n]," he calls out weakly, and yet the way he said his nickname for you made your mind swirl, "you were right," he breathes heavily, "i am sick."

"are you trying to be funny right no—" you were huffing out, exasperated.

"let's get him home, i'll call his physician," you forgot his manager was here. you looked up at the guy, it wasn't the first time you've seen him, it wasn't the first time he's seen you. though you do have a hard time recalling people's names, was his… sa.. sa something.

"okay.." you say, rising from your position on the ground and lifting oikawa up with the help of mr. sa-something. oikawa's manager opens the door to the van and you urge oikawa inside while he could still move.

once you were satisfied that oikawa was sitting and assured yourself he was going to be fine, you attempted to move your hands away, and you had to go back to akane of course. akane who's seeing everything unfolding right now. you dread the latter that comes and you were going to have a lot of explaining to do.

oikawa grabs a hold of your wrists, eyes fluttering open, "where are you going?" he was blinking furiously, still battling with his head, and he was obviously frowning.

"i have to.. " you begin and the disappointment was evident on his face, cursing you and your tendency to go weak for him, "well maybe i.."

"you should come with him," his manager makes the decision for you. you lock eyes with him and he looks away, "he's going to need someone other than me to help."

to you, he sounded the most sensible, clearly, that was why you were going in the van.

you make one look back to where akane was, and your eyes lock on hers and riseki's, great, more people. you blinked twice, they blinked back, before your view was blocked with oikawa's manager slamming the door shut.

oikawa didn't let go of your hand even for one moment.

even when you dragged him to his bedroom, across the lavish floors of his penthouse, which made it quite a difficult task since his bedroom was upstairs. even when his physician came in, looking haggard since you assume they had rushed to go here when oikawa's manager called, they didn't forget to give you a quick nod of acknowledgement, before going to oikawa's side and asking him questions. even when he eventually drifted off to sleep.

he was acting like a kid, the last time he got sick, you could vaguely remember him being childish too. it was kind of… nice to know that he didn't change that much.

"[name]-san, can you watch oikawa for a bit, at least before i come back? i have to talk to the coordinators of the shoot oikawa was supposed to do this evening and ask them to reschedule," his manager said, already gathering his things.

oikawa’s physician was in the corner, finishing writing stuff down, "sato, get him these medications while you're at it," his physician handed him the prescriptions, "make sure he takes them for a week, his fever is high, you should've called me sooner."

sato— you've finally gotten his name! you knew it started with sa— nodded, and turned back to face you, "sorry for making you do this favor, i know it might be a bit.. awkward."

"it's alright," you say, and look down at your hand that oikawa had a fierce grip on, "i don't think i could go even if i wanted to," you attempted to joke to lighten the mood.

oikawa's manager let out a small smile before nodding to you and leaving, the physician also waved to you before following out. it didn't take long before you were alone with tooru. with him like this, it was easy to feel… well, easy. you were thinking of what to make him for dinner, he needed to eat something as much as he needed to rest. even just some soup would be good— but a meal would probably be best. but first, you have to make him let go of you.

you first attempt the most rational thing, which is pulling your hand away, but that makes his lids open, and now he was staring at you, "are you leaving?" he says after a few seconds of merely looking at each other. 

"i'm not," you say, though not very convincingly, which is probably why he won’t let you go.

"you were pulling away," he says, and it sounded like a complaint. 

"i was just planning to go and—"

"so you were planning to leave," to show just how displeased he was, he made a move to interlock your hands. was he losing his reasoning because he was sick? at this, you roll your eyes.

"i was just going to make you some food to eat, i’ll be right back,” you were trying to subtly shake your hand away, “go back to sleep," you say.

he tightens his hold, scrutinizing you, "you promise?"

you blink, did he really want to do this right now? he wasn't faltering, even if you knew he wanted to shut his eyes closed. he was really selling the act of a child, even more because of the cloth on his forehead.

"i promise," you say with finality, when he deemed you sincere enough, he reluctantly let go of your hand. it made you smile damn it. because he was being good, you hold his hand and draw little circles on his palm to make him sleepy, "go back to sleep," like your voice had incredible powers, he drifted off to sleep again.

you let go of him and went down to check his fridge to see what you were going to have to be working with. he thankfully had a storage of a healthy variety of food— though he kind of has to because of his profession— so it was easy to prepare his meal. you did have to go down to the grocery store beside his building once to buy some vegetables oikawa was running out of.  

an hour passed by and you were heading back to oikawa's room, tray in hand with a bowl of the food you prepared and some water. you open the door as silent as you could, the door creaked anyways. you glimpse at oikawa to see that he was still asleep, you place the tray down on his bedside table and instead grab the cloth placed on his head to replace it with a new one.

you were in the middle of fixing it on his forehead when he grasps your wrist, it was like he sensed whenever you were attempting to do anything to him and automatically had to wake up just to see you.

"you stayed," oikawa says, voice groggy.

"i told you i was just going to prepare you food," you say, leaning back to have a proper conversation with him, "i was planning to make you sleep some more before waking you to eat, but since you're already awake you might as well eat now. your manager still hasn't come back with your medicine so you better replenish your energy. why do you overwork so much? don't you have a say with how much work you take on? you do, don't you? but you probably think 'a few wouldn't be overkill, and it establishes my fame' without any regards about your health. what i'm saying is, take care of yourself and stuff," you huff.

oikawa reaches for your hand and gently makes it so that you cup his face, he closes his eyes for a moment, relishing in the heat that radiates off of you, "mhm, care for me more."

"you're enjoying this?" your brows furrow.

"you're giving me a lot of attention, so yeah," oikawa murmurs, his eyes still closed.

you felt your cheeks turn warm, "you have to eat."

"later," oikawa sighs when you brush your thumb over his eyelids.

"no," you take your touch away, much to oikawa's dismay. you make your way to grab a chair and place it on the other side of his bed, you take the tray and place it on your lap while oikawa watches you the whole time.

he then says the oddest thing.

"feed me?" it wasn't a question, it was more of a request.

"you look like you're well enough, you're even making demands," you snark, because of course you had to.

"no.. i'm still feeling very awful.. my head still hurts and my throat is starting to get sore, and my hand kind of hurts so you have to feed me," oikawa was being dramatic by the end, he knew it, you knew it, and yet you couldn't resist a small smile to adorn your face. you couldn't help but be overcome with relief too, since if he could be ridiculous then he was better now because he got some rest.

"you're acting like a kid," you say but you were already gathering a spoonful of food and taking it to his lips. oikawa was a very willing recipient.

"do you hate it?" oikawa asks, trying to catch your gaze but you were actively avoiding meeting eyes with him and much preferred to just look at the food, and to his lips, oh but looking at his lips was a bad idea, so you focus on looking at the spoon instead.

"yes," you say without much bite, continuing your notions of feeding him.

"you hate me?" oikawa asks again, as if he needed a lot more reassurance.

"i do," you answer, because you were a menace.

"you said you didn't."

"i'm taking it back."

a comfortable silence goes over you two, with you continuing with your ministrations, peacefully feeding him the food. while oikawa was admiring you, in disbelief again that you were really here in front of him. that you stayed with him. that he couldn't help but say words that made you freeze on the spot.

"can you take me back too?"

your eyes widen and you finally look at him, "what?"

"if you still want me, can you give me another chance?" oikawa waited with a baited breath for your response, his heart was pounding and he felt breathless, and it wasn't because he had a fever. it was because you were breathtaking, your presence was breathtaking, and he didn't know if he could last without the comfort of knowing he had the right to look at you and feel like this.

“[name],”  he says your name in that way again. the one that makes your insides feel wonky and you can’t believe it, he’s so.. he is so.. he makes you want to scream. your eyes were feeling warm, you didn’t mean to, but perhaps with this morning and what was happening now and just—

"are you not just saying nonsense because you're sick," you blink furiously, trying to hold back the frustrated tears. your hands were shaky as you placed the utensils in the bowl and you were placing the tray back to the side.

oikawa lifts himself up more from the bed and reaches over to your hands, to stop the shaking or just because you don’t know. he was looking at you, asking to hold you, you let him. he could see your watery eyes and he was holding your hands so gently it made you want to stand up, turn around and run away, but you don’t.

"no..” oikawa made sure he was clear, “i want to be with you again, [name], if you'd take me back. by taking me back, i don’t mean i’d immediately be your boyfriend again, i want to prove to you that i deserve you. besides, with or without a label, i’m yours."

he was waiting for your response. you swallow back your tears, emotional, you’ve always been. oikawa made soothing circles on the back of your hand, mirror to the one you were doing to his earlier. while you sat there and tried to process everything, everything that happened, about how he made you feel— how he makes you feel, the good, the bad, and everything in between. you were thinking about everything you went through with him, everything you went through because of him.

oikawa was never going to just be someone you knew.

he was always going to be something more.

he was everything.

do you want to let him be everything to you again?

“i won’t make it easy for you.”

masterlist — previous | next

✦ fun facts !

ever since [name] was caught viewing and liking oikawa’s tweets she’s been using her priv account to view oikawa related tweets lmao

oikawa has tried to crochet once and he tried to make a frog, keyword, tried, and it ended up looking like a dead squashed cockroach.

nonsense ! an oikawa tooru social media au

synopsis. you were oikawa tooru’s #1 fan, until you became his #1 hater. you hated him so much you went viral on twitter (accidentally) and literally became known as “the oikawa tooru hater”, doesn’t help that he keeps fueling the fire by subtweeting you. everyone is all in for this new drama. what isn’t known to the public, is that this particular drama’s been on hold for three years (him being your ex and all).

a/n — GUYS HI hehehe (acts like i didnt ud for a month) anw i swear theres no like angsty angst ANYWAYS GROVELING ERA

taglist is closed ! + (1/2) @kawaii-angelanne @ceneridiankaa @kittycasie @rukia-uchiha-98 @polish-cereal @kellesvt @rockleeisbaeeee @kashxyou @imsoluvly @jjulliette @tooruchiiscribs @littlefreakjulia @gomjohs @qualitygiantshoepsychic @mellowknightcolorfarm @konzumeken @migosple @kuroogguk @sangwooooo @katsu-shi @wolffmaiden @rijhi @2baddies-1porsche @yeehawcity @aishkaaa @crueldinasty @renardiererin @yyuiz @llamakenma @penguinlovestowrite @princelingperfect @hearts4faey @yoonabeo @pantherhappy @julia-1901 @godsbiggestmenace @angel-luv-04 @noideawhothatis @bethbat @natsvmie @luna-mothii @lylovw @apinu @leave-rae-alone @kamikokii @bananasquash @eitaababe @minimari415 @hanabihwa @nilopillo

[camshell]

Watched '89 Batman just so I could read the original script and get mad at the changes. Spoilers, but also this won't make a lot of sense if you haven't already seen the movie

Starting off strong with the descriptions. I'm sure cranking up Jack's age some 20 years wouldn't make much of a difference to the plot...

I was going to say that the casting director is no Andrea Romano, but considering his name drops before Keaton's, I'm sure Nicholson was chosen through a more particular process. I wonder though, was that choice alone responsible for the "Joker kills Bruce's parents" idea? (side note, did Joker 2019 come up with *anything* new at all??) Or was it something that came up after they decided to erase Dick Grayson from the film to replace the original conflict?

Oh yeah, the Flying Grayson's episode happens in the original script. But let's look at Ace Chemicals first — which is not the name they used in the movie, just to piss me off

They cut out a whole section of the gang breaking into the plant. It's not a bad choice, I just liked the date makeup observation. Now to the meet cute--

Paralyzing talons? Are you kidding me, they got rid of that?? Oh, silly me, of course they did — that would get in the way of Batman's classic blowing-up-thugs rule.

Bruce didn't throw Jack off the platform here, but interestingly enough we still see him feeling guilty when he finds out that he inadvertently created Joker

And yes, this is almost the exact same moment that Tom King wrote in Batman/Catwoman. Gotta love the trope of Bruce bringing up his guilt over creating his arch-nemesis in the middle of an intimate moment with a beautiful woman on his bed. Now some random things they changed that stood out to me:

Every single time Joker acts blatantly childishly or is described as being on the verge of a tantrum is so funny. Sad that we could've had this instead of him thirsting over Vicky Vale.

This is the during the attack of the mimes on the city hall. I assume they decided to cut it out because that sort of ptsd goes a little against installing machine guns on the batmobile and striking down your enemies with military grade missiles.

They didn't pull a Joe Chill/Joker switcheroo here, Vale's guilt just dreamed of this scenario. The script goes a little deeper in expanding her relationship with Bruce. She figured out he's Batman on her own — saving up Alfred's skin — but unfortunately so does her colleague. As a self-designated nice guy, Knox tries to get Batman to break things off with Vicky. He's also waiting for the news of Joker's attacks to quiet down before exposing Batman's identity, but don't worry, the scripts solves this beautifully later on.

Anyways, instead of the confrontation at the apartment of Vicky Vale (also known as Bruce's "let's get nuts" moment and the devil in the moonlight quote) we have a chase scene that leads to Dick's introduction. Before that though comes probably the second scene I most wish they had kept in the movie

Yes, Batman chases Joker on a horse, first wearing a tuxedo, then his whole gear. Do you see what they took from us? What could've been?

Joker kills the Graysons with pretty explosions, Dick jumps onto Joker's van and tries to kill him but alas is detained by Batman and batnapped.

Batman then asks Alfred to take care of Dick and the last act is set in motion. Pushed by anger and guilt, Batman blows up Ace Chemicals (tho here we're supposed to believe the thugs managed to run out before the place crumbled) but Joker escapes and goes to set the balloon parade in motion.

Before he can blow away the public, Knox and Vicky create the bat signal to alert Batman about the balloons and Joker's plans are thwarted. Unfortunately (cough) this costs Knox his life. But hey, at least Batman's identity is safe.

Big explosions ensue, the batwing goes down and Bruce is almost left dead in the debris. Dick Grayson, now dawning his makeshift Robin suit, saves him and runs to enact his revenge on Joker.

They enter the cathedral, Joker and Dick exchange some bullets and Batman eventually catches up with Dick, knocking him out again. Then Batman manages to crawl up the stairs through inhuman effort against his fatal injuries, passes out just before reaching the final floor and uh... I'll just post this next part in full

He's made a friend... Attempted murder-suicide... Joker's taken out by a horde of Bats... This would probably have replaced Fight Club in my list of favorite movie endings if it ever came into existence.

Before I close up on our villain and hero's demises, I do have something to point out that I think was improved in the final script. Joker's Smylex — basically Joker Gas, originally meant to be called Smylenol — got added to beauty products and caused some people to die in the movie. I say some, because while we see 13 deaths reported there, here it's something that comes closer to the class of hundreds. He doesn't even invent it, originally; he just steals the formula from an old CIA project. Because the fatal product doesn't happen only when certain products are mixed together, a whole lot more end up becoming victims and Batman can't do much about it except cut out the source. It's just a detail, but I liked that they thought of an alternative. I may not like the Joker mob boss origin, but at least they let him keep his chemical prowess.

Now to the ending. Batman had a last minute bout of clarity and threw the bomb away, tangling it in the helicopter's ladder

Something something Batman offering Joker a last comfort before death... Endgame and Arkham City and...

Okay, that's pretty much what I've got. Am I mad we didn't get to have this? Kinda. But also, I didn't have big expectations for what actually came out, and it's still a pretty funny film. Besides, I think when it comes to Batman and mainly Joker, sticking to the comics, games and animations is the best way to go. Best to keep the incels focused on the live adaptations anyhow

[babybammargera]

Bunny and Baby Lifeguards on duty

Party boy x fem reader (early jackass era)

You’re sitting on the floor of the van brainstorming ideas for skits with the boys and Jeff. Normally you’d get thrown into something chaotic with Ryan or maybe Ehren but apparently, fans like it when you interact with Party Boy. Jeff looks at you, “How do you feel about doing the lifeguard bit with Pontius?” You shrug and look up from your iPod, “depends on the context. “Tony Hawk just bought a house and the pool is currently empty. And we somehow convinced him to film a bit with Bam, Dave, Steveo, Ehren, and Weeman where they're skating the pool basically slamming into each other trying to skate and you two get to shoot them with paintball guns and look pretty in bikinis. You in?” You crack a smile, “Chris is prettier than me and pulls off a bikini better but I'm down, Bam and Sleepo have been pranking me a ton this week so I'm ready to get them back.”

The next day the crew arrives at the house and everyone is setting up and getting ready. You had already gotten dressed for the day, A black bikini top with the jackass logo on it and short black shorts to match. You touch up your makeup and hair in the mirror then head outside. Pontius bounces up full of energy wearing a full cheetah print bikini with matching bunny ears, “Hey if there's time could you braid my hair in two fishtail braids it's fucking hot.” You nod and sit down on one of the pool chairs Jeff had brought for the bit, “Pigtails?” He settles on the ground between your feet smiling, “You know me so well.” Despite how long his hair is you make quick work of the task and finish them just as Jeff gathers everyone up for filming, “Okay so here's the paintball guns I'll let you two figure out how you wanna introduce the bit but we've settled on Pool of Pain for the name.” he runs to his director's chair and sits down. Pontius strikes a “sexy” pose as Spike starts filming, “Hi I'm Bunny the lifeguard and I'm here with my friend and the true eye candy of jackass y/n and she's helping me on lifeguard duty today at the pool.”You look over your sunglasses at the camera and smile, “This is the Pool of Pain and trust me there's gonna be a lot of it.” You turn as the camera pans to the other boys and nail Steveo right in the leg with a brightly colored paintball. One by one they drop into the pool narrowly avoiding each other at first but then quickly beginning to collide as they try to avoid the paintballs. Ryan is the first to bail scrambling out of the pool tossing the battered-up skateboard he probably borrowed from Bam to the side, “All right I'm out!” You crack up at the sight, “Come on Ry can't take the heat?” He flips you off and lays in the grass. Soon the others follow suit one by one crawling out of the empty pool with various bruises and scrapes splattered with neon paint. Steveo gets close to the camera wiping his face with his shirt, “That fucking sucked dude.” Jeff giggling behind the monitors calls it a wrap. Adjusting your top you glance at your partner in crime for the day, “Ya know if you take away the paintballs it looked pretty fun.” Tony walks by and puts his helmet on your head, “Go skate if you want.” You make a face and set the sweaty helmet to the side before picking up Bam and Steveo's discarded boards, “care to join the party Pontus?” He grins and takes off his bunny ears, “hell yeah!”

[jowrites]

We got Married - 6. How is this real?(written)

Masterlist Here.

Prev. Next.

TW: Cursing, stalkers(sasaengs), sexual themes, more to follow

Taglist: @lisaswifey @heeeseeungs

It was well past 2 PM when Roman found herself waiting in her van for the arrival of her ‘husband’. They were shooting the 2nd episode after getting the reactions from the pilot. The views were up and so were the spirits of the producers for this reboot of the iconic show. Throughout the month, Roman and Heeseung have been sending friendly texts back and forth and getting to know each other better so they weren’t so awkward around one another. Heeseung especially was determined to show a side of him that was genuine and true to himself, and something that his fans would enjoy. 

Roman set her phone aside after the texts chuckling to herself at her new friend. He was quite interesting, he had his moments of boldness but then would shy away and run. It’s almost like his impulses would take over then he’d come back to being in control and be ashamed of himself for even trying. It was very endearing and he was very unaware of just how charming he actually was. It’s weird, before this, she barely knew anything about Enhypen or even who they were, but since coming to the realization of their existence it’s almost as if they’re everywhere now. She finds herself seeing their posters, hearing their music, and even running into them more at the company now that she’s part of HYBE. 

There was a knock on her van and a staff member came up and greeted her. The staff began to mic her up, explaining Heeseung is 2 minutes away and will immediately be miced and they’d start filming right away. They were both given instructions that they are to walk into their shared ‘newlywed’ home and take a look around, be in awe of the place and excited. They were encouraged to give nice reactions and amazement of their home, and then they were going to hear their doorbell and Heeseung was to answer it and get a letter. The letter was their first instructions on their first couple mission.

Roman’s manager carried her small overnight suitcase, which Roman quickly took and advised him to rest as she does this. Her manager was ready for a nap, she could see it on his face. A van pulled up next to hers and staff quickly ran to the vehicle and in all his glory stood Heeseung. He didn’t even look like he had just been mobbed at the airport, his hair was nicely styled and he probably had his makeup touched up in the car. He made eye contact with Roman and she gave him a small wave, he smiled and waved back as they finished micing him up. 

“Okay, you both have your things?” The Producer asked through his mic and the two nodded. “We’re late on schedule so we’d like to start right away. Everyone be quiet, filming in progress. Let’s go!”

FILMING: IN PROGRESS

Roman stood beside Heeseung as the two admired the scenery and walked side by side. Heeseung quickly took notice of her suitcase and grabbed it from her, making her chuckle to herself. 

“You really don’t have to,” She said.

“Just because I’m your husband doesn’t mean I have to, I want to,” he said, and she looked down and just smiled at his words. He entered the passcode and opened the door for her, the two of them walking into their ‘house’ for the first time. 

“Wow! It’s so big!” Roman said, as she took her shoes off and walked further into the house.

Heeseung left their overnight cases by the door as the two of them began their own tour of the house. It was a slightly bigger house than she was expecting, especially for a couple. The kitchen was a decent size with brand new appliances, and it opened to the living room which had a big wall window that brought in the natural sunlight. It was quite similar to her own personal house, and she found it very cozy.

“Is this how newlyweds really live?” Heeseung asked as he walked around, Roman followed as they walked down the halls and checked out the rooms. They realized the house had a small indoor pool that looked very inviting. They would probably be advised to play in it later on in the show. 

“I guess so,” Roman said. A painting in the room quickly caught her eye and she took Heeseung’s hand and pointed. “Look! They painted a picture of us!”

Heeseung looked at their touched hands, feeling the electricity go through his body and quickly ignoring it to look at what she was showing him. It was a photo of them, painted, or was it AI? He couldn’t tell, but it looked real as if they stood side by side and took the photo together.

“There will be plenty of times for us to take even better photos together,” he said. Right as he said that, the doorbell rang and Heeseung left to get the mail. Roman met him in the living room, taking a seat on the sofa right as Heeseung came back, opening the letter in his hands. 

“Welcome, newlyweds! We hope you like the new house. I’m sure the house feels empty without your touch, so we are giving you the opportunity to make the house more ‘you’. On the table you will find things to do together that you can place around the house and make it yours. Have fun, and take this time to get to know your new husband/wife,” Heeseung looked over and saw that there were canvases, puzzles, but what caught his eye was the legos. 

“Oh, they have legos!” Roman exclaimed, reaching for the lego sets first.

“You like legos?” Heeseung asked, feeling excited as she held them up.

“I love legos. It’s actually a hobby of mine, legos and miniatures,” Roman smiled, admiring the boxes.

“We should do that first, I love legos too!” Heeseung exclaimed, grabbing the box and looking over it.

“Yes! We can do both of them,” She giggled, and Heeseung felt a blush creep up. He didn’t realize how much he enjoyed hearing that sound.

The two of them sat on the floor, opening the box and spreading out the set. He grabbed for the instructions as Roman began to organize each bag together. He knew this would take a while, but it was a good bonding exercise and he just found he enjoyed being in her presence. 

*******************

“...And that’s basically how I ended up here, JYP never gave up on me,” Roman said, finishing up her story of how she came to be.

The two of them have been sitting on the floor for the past 2 hours, talking and laughing together. Sharing stories and getting to know each other better.

“That’s pretty admirable of him, did he know he would raise one of the most successful musicians of all time?” Heeseung asked.

“I think deep down he knew I’d make a name for myself, that’s for sure,” she said, shrugging her shoulders. “He’s really good friends with Bang PD, and it was him who encouraged us to be taken over by BigHit.”

“That explains a lot,” Heeseung said.

“Yeah. Do you like being an idol?” She asked suddenly, catching Heeseung off guard.

Heeseung stared at her for a second, reaching over and removing a strand of hair from her face that fell as she was finishing up some pieces.

“I do, it’s been a dream since I can remember, and I really love my fans. They’ve given us everything,” Heeseung said. “It gets tiring, but at the end of the day being on stage and making people happy is all worth it.”

“Yeah, can’t argue with that, look! We’re done!” Roman held up the last flower she finished and smiled brightly. 

“It’s pretty, just like you,” He coughed at that last one, causing Roman to laugh and nudge him. 

“You’re so cheesy,” she said.

“But you smiled,” He said.

She stuck out her tongue at him and he did the same, the two of them getting up to clean their mess. 

“Should we order dinner now?” Roman asked.

“Yes, I’m starving!” He said, grabbing the menu from the sponsored chicken place. “Do you trust me to order?”

“Order whatever you like, I’m sure I’ll like it too,” she came up and rested her head on his shoulder, looking over the tablet as Heeseung began to browse and order the food. He wouldn’t admit it, but his body was on fire every time she got close, and he wouldn’t have it any other way. 

***********************

FILMING: NOT IN PROGRESS.

It was well after 10 PM by now, they filmed their dinner activity and more painting activities. The producers got some good footage of Heeseung tying up Roman’s hair for her as she held a large piece of spicy chicken, her hands being sticky from the sauce and Heeseung noticing and tying her hair away from her. They also filmed more of their teasing and more of Heeseung’s cute side, being shy and admitting he wants to get closer to his partner. They already filmed their night routine, the two of them getting ready for bed together. Roman helped him put on a face mask and he did the same, the two of them giggling at each other the whole time.

Filming had now wrapped up for the night, the staff and managers sleeping on the 2nd floor as the two stayed on the first floor. There were cameras that filmed overnight in their room and that was the only rolling ones. The two of them were spread out on their sofa, finishing off two beers they had with their dinner. 

“Today wasn’t so bad,” Heeseung said, Roman nodding.

“I hope you felt more comfortable,” she said.

“Oh, we’re well over that stage…sweetheart,” he turned and winked at her.

“Dork,” she said, nudging him. “It feels better since we’re friends, right? I wasn’t being too pushy?”

“No, not at all. I’m actually glad you took the lead on this because I was so nervous. I was a mess, but I really appreciate you reaching out first and helping me. You’re a good person, Roman,” Heeseund said.

“That was a really nice compliment,” she said.

“What was?” Heeseung asked. “I’m being honest.”

Being called a good person, that’s really nice of you, thank you,” she said, turning and looking at his masked face. She started giggling at him, heat forming on her cheeks.

“What? Why Are you laughing?” He asked.

“You look so cute with this mask,” she pointed.

“Oh, I forgot I had it on,” he said, quickly removing the mask.

“Here let me,” she said, reaching her hands out and helping him spread the remains of the mask on his skin. They were so close together, he could feel her breath on his skin.

“Wow, this is crazy,” he whispered out.

“What is?” she asked.

“You’re even prettier up close. How are you my wife?”

[dutchvanwinkle]

Mr Van der Linde Pt. 2 - Dutch x Reader

As always, this chapter is on ao3 if you prefer.

Summary: You visit John's family home once again and spend more time with Mr Van der Linde than you’d expected.

Word count: 7,062

Content warnings: Modern AU, marijuana use, alcohol

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | PART 4 | PART 5 | PART 6 | PART 7 | PART 8 | PART 9 | PART 10

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You were more than excited to be returning to the Van der Linde’s once again, especially now you’d gotten over your girlish crush on Mr Van der Linde himself. Or so you thought.

Abigail had suggested an Easter ski trip, and you made an excuse to get out of it, not wanting to admit that you just couldn’t justify the expense. Money was tight enough, without blowing hundreds on a week away in the snow which truthfully, you wouldn’t enjoy much anyway since you didn’t know how to ski. John didn’t want to go either, you didn’t know why but you told yourself he had a fear of heights, or the snow, much like his fear of water. It probably wasn’t true, but you amused yourself at the thought and made sure to tease him about it.

What it did lead to was John inviting you to stay with him for the week and of course you said yes because how could you say no.   

Truthfully, John’s father slipped out of your thoughts relatively quickly and was replaced by thoughts of your family and friends at home and how much you’d missed them. It was only when you got back to university and John handed you a bag filled with portions of frozen lasagne that had apparently been left over from his own batch that Dutch had made for him, that he re-entered your mind and niggled at your thoughts every time you reheated one of them for your meals. You’d briefly seen him over John’s shoulder on facetime and thanked him profusely for the food.  

Despite John driving like a lunatic, you managed to get some sleep on the journey over; you were exhausted since you’d not only been at work the night before, but you’d also had two lectures and a lab that day. Whoever timetabled a three-hour lab on a Friday afternoon was surely a descendant of Satan himself.  

You woke with a start and the first thing you saw was John laughing outside the car after slamming his door shut to wake you.   

“What did I ever do to you?” you grumbled, pushing the door open and walking round to the boot to grab your suitcase.  

Déjà vu hit you at the same time the cloud of smoke from his cigarette did as he blew it in your face, and you batted it away before shoving him.  

The house was quiet when you entered, void of life and you asked John where everyone was. He explained that Tilly was staying with Arthur because his father was out of town on business, and wouldn’t be back until Sunday evening. Three days from now. You couldn’t push away that small part of you that was disappointed, and you told yourself it was because you just liked his family. Sure. Seems plausible. On the other hand, John was ecstatic at the prospect of a free house and had already messaged a few friends from home to come around for beers that night. You drank a bit with them, but soon excused yourself after a chain of yawns thanks to late night shifts and day-long university work.  

The two of you relaxed mostly for the next couple of days, going for lunch with Javier one afternoon and having half of a film marathon the next. For all that John was, he was a good friend and understood how much you needed to rest and do nothing. But on Saturday night, when he held up two joints and wiggled his brows at you, you couldn’t say no.  

He promised you it was okay to smoke in the small garden house, which was big enough to hold a few chairs and a table and had a big glass window covering the wall facing the back of the main house, so there you were. The sun had set, and it had only taken an hour for the two of you to be as high as kites as you chatted and laughed.  

“I can’t believe you’ve still not asked her out,” you thought out loud, leaning back in your chair and passing the joint over to him.   

“Abigail?” his eyebrows rose in forced surprise, and you didn’t show the eye-roll you’d been tempted to display at his blatantly obvious attempt at hiding his feelings. Nothing had changed since the start of term, the two of them getting drunk and staying with each other but not taking it further than that. You’d grown friendly with Abigail, initially she’d wanted to get close to you for advice on John but that soon turned into a sisterhood of sorts between the two of you. Karen had taken pity on her, you’d both half-assumed she’d get over her crush on John but it didn’t seem to be going anywhere anytime soon. “She’s... nice enough, I guess. But I’m not the relationship type.”  

“But you like her?”  

“Why you asking?”  

You huffed a laugh in partial disbelief. “I’m not playing spy, if that’s what you’re letting on to. I’m just interested; you seem to like her. I think you’d make a nice couple.”  

“Last time you played matchmaker we ended up with Karen and Sean, and none of us need a repeat of that.”  

Smiling at the memory, you took the joint back from John and inhaled – the smoke looking like it was billowing up in slow-motion in front of your face. “At least they’re on the same page as each other.”  

“Yeah, they’re just each other backups,” John huffed. “Except one of ‘em always gets pissed at the other when they get with someone else. Just plain stupid.”  

While you’d been trying to ignore the desire for food burning inside you, it became something you couldn’t resist when you passed the joint back over. “You got any food in?”  

“Sure, help yourself to anything in the cupboards. Bring some stuff in here too, I can’t be arsed getting up.”  

You nodded, opening the door and proceeding to carefully step on the stones that led up to the back door of the house. While there had been some rain earlier that morning, the stones were dry but cold. Shivering, you entered the kitchen and quickly hopped onto the carpet runner. After warming your feet a little, you began opening various cupboards to see what was available.

Plates? No, thank you. Glasses and mugs? Nope. Tea and coffee? Maybe in the morning. Then you reached a drawer with various sweets and chocolate. While you’d likely want that a little later on, your craving was for savoury snacks. You opened yet another cupboard, hoping to find something more -  

“Good evening.”  

You froze. Literally, physically, and mentally. Straightening up at turning around, Dutch stood in the doorway from the hall, leant up on the frame with his hands in the pockets of his trousers and still wearing his suit jacket. With his top buttons undone and tie loosened, you question just how high you were. Were you hallucinating? How long had he been standing there?  

A smile grew on his face and you realised that you were still frozen in your spot like an idiot statue. Say something. Anything.  

“I thought you were away.”  

“It’s nice to see you too, miss.”  

Fuck, you swallowed. He’d walked in to you rooting through his cupboards after getting high on his property and you have the nerve to act like he’s the one disturbing you. “Sorry,” you cleared your throat, desperately trying to hide your questionable state of mind, “how - how was your trip?”  

Christ.  

“Fine,” he said plainly, expression unwavering and gaze remaining on you.  

You nodded, thinking of what on earth to say next when he spoke first.  

“Come here.”   

You widened your eyes and he softened his reassuringly. Moving around the island, you took a few steps towards him until the faint lingering scent of his cologne graced your nostrils. Then he leaned in.  

What was he doing? Immediately your pulse quickened and damn you for being so stupidly sensitive every time you got high. And damn him for being so attractive. And damn John for being his son.  

A quiet sniff from him led to him leaving your personal space and raising an eyebrow at you.  

Of course. Though he could probably have smelt the weed on you from the other side of the kitchen, perhaps he just wanted to be sure. Or poke fun at you. Valid reasons, either way. You felt undeniably rude, taking his hospitality and abusing it so.  

“Shit, I’m sorry, Mr Van Der Linde,” you said, clasping your hands over your front to squash any need to fidget.  

But he didn’t look cross, he looked amused in fact, leaving his smirking gaze on you for a moment longer before he pulled his phone out and handed it to you, the dominos app greeting you when you looked at the screen. “I have no doubt that my idiot son is to blame.”  

You looked at him in questioning.  

“I assume you’re hungry,” he nodded his head at the phone in your hands.  

“Oh, I, erm -” what? I was fine just rooting through your cupboards instead, actually. There was no possible way you could come out of this as a well-mannered guest.  

“It’s late, they’ll be quiet and it won’t take long. I’ll go pick it up for you. I’ll get John his usual.”  

“No, really, I couldn’t let you -”  

“I’ve had a long few hours travelling. I’m rather hungry myself and I don’t fancy cooking. Though,” he chuckled, “I don’t reckon I’m as hungry as you.”  

You finally smiled at that, the tension thankfully easing around you. Though, you assumed it was one-sided and if anything, he was actually enjoying this. He seemed like the type.  

But he shouldn’t be here. Of course, it was his house, but John had said he’d be back tomorrow night at the earliest. By then, you’d have been nice and presentable and not stinking of weed.  

You were relieved when the back door clicked behind you, John’s voice carrying into the room as he asked what was taking you so long. He faltered when he saw his father, but his posture soon returned to a casual one.  

“Oh. Thought you were back tomorrow?”  

Dutch paused; expression unreadable. “Well, we got finished up today and I didn’t see the point of staying in a hotel for another night when I could just come home. That alright with you, John?”  

John shrugged, taking a single step before stopping again to look between the two of you. At the fold of Dutch’s arms across his chest, John rolled his eyes and gestured his arm to you. “Why d’you tell him?”  

You weren’t sure how John did it so well. Pretending not to be under the influence was clearly a practised talent of his. You? Not so much.  

“I didn’t,” you mumbled.  

John tilted his head disapprovingly, and you put a hand to your mouth to stop the laugh bubbling to the surface. “Course he can tell with you,” he scoffed with a lazy gesture in your direction, “you’re always so bait.”  

“I am not!”  

“Right,” John laughed softly, his attention soon diverting to the phone in your hands after Dutch nodded his head at it.  

“I’m guessing you want your usual?”  

“Sure, I guess... thanks?”  

Dutch let out a sigh, holding his palm out for you to place the phone in, which you did after reluctantly adding your pizza. He tapped a few times on the screen to get John’s, his own, and to place the order. “Don’t act so surprised, John.”  

“Just didn’t expect you to be buying dinner, is all,” he shrugged.  

“I don’t know what you mean,” Dutch said, slipping his phone into his pocket and moving to turn back out to the hall. “I’ll drive to collect it now.”  

You and John uttered your okays as he walked away and turned to face each other once the front door had shut.  

“That was kind of him,” you commented.  

John raised his brows and nodded his head. “Weren’t it just. Usually just throws a bag of Doritos at me and calls me an idiot.”  

You smiled at that, feeling all warm inside that he’d gone out of his way since you were there. Unless he really did want a pizza himself. “He doesn’t mind you getting baked at home?”  

“Nah,” John began filling up two cups with water and handed one to you, “he always said he’d rather I do it at home where I can’t be a ‘public menace’ as he calls it. Pretty sure he has no grounds to tell me not to, anyway.”

“Are you telling me your dad gets high?”  

“Yeah, pretty sure Arthur’s gotten high with him before now.”  

You took a sip of your glass, attempting to imagine what he’d be like and whether that’d ever be something you’d get to see. “Huh. Shall we go back out while we wait? Being in this kitchen is doing my patience no good.”  

“Sure,” John agreed and you led the way, wishing you’d slipped your shoes back on before coming out.  

Dutch returned not long later, though it felt like a small eternity, and hand-delivered the pizzas to the two of you and informed you both that he was going to have his in the living room to catch up on the news. You didn’t see him for the rest of the night, he was already asleep when you and John returned to the house, but the food went down a treat and with you `as content as you were, you promptly fell asleep when your head in the pillow.  

-  

Once you and John had rolled out of bed and just made it in time for a drive-through breakfast, all of which you managed to eat on the journey back, the two of you sat in the kitchen and chatted while you had a warm drink until Dutch interrupted when you were mid-yawn.  

“Tired?” he asked, a playful lilt thankfully present in his voice as he made his way over to his fancy coffee machine.  

“A little,” you cleared your throat, thankful his back was turned to not see the look of embarrassment on your face.  

“I thought you students were good at late nights, what with you being out so much and all.”  

“Most of us are, but she never catches up on her sleep,” John interjected without looking up from his phone.  

“Whyever not?”  

“I do,” you interrupted.   

“Liar,” John hummed. “If she’s not doing work for her course, she’s working at her part-time job. And if she’s not doing that, she’s socialising with us. There’s no way you have time for a full night’s sleep every day.”  

You narrowed your brow at him, struggling to argue with the fact. A lot of your time was taken up and you’d be lying if you didn’t wish for a whole week where you could sleep with no responsibilities.   

“That right?” Dutch asked before you could respond, leaning his elbows across from you on the island. “You’ve got a job, too?”  

“Just a small one. A bit of bar work, nothing major.”  

Dutch hummed thoughtfully, seeming surprisingly interested in your busy life schedule. “You really ought to get more sleep. Can’t you take on fewer shifts?”  

“Not if I want to afford food,” you laughed, wondering in hindsight if this was the wrong crowd for digs at your own financial situation. “I’m kidding,” even though you weren’t, really, “the scholarship doesn’t cover all that much, is all, not after I’ve paid my rent.”  

“Oh,” he said, and you took a sip of your drink in the hopes that the conversation would end at that. Thankfully, Dutch moved it along. “Do the two of you have plans tomorrow evening?”  

You and John glanced at each other and shook your heads, then turned your attention to Dutch. “No, why?” John asked, “let me guess, you want us to mind Tilly?”  

“Spending time with your sister is not a chore, Johnathon,” Dutch snipped, and you chuckled into your hot drink as the tips of John’s ears turned red at the use of his full name, “but no. I actually have two tickets to see swan lake tomorrow, a colleague of mine can no longer go – they're yours if you want them.”  

That piqued your interest, and you raised your brows excitedly at John.  

“A ballet?” he scoffed almost in offence, “couldn’t think of anything worse.”  

“Oh, come on John,” you protested, “it’ll be fun! Swan lake is my favourite and you could do with a bit of culture.”  

“No.” His entirely uninterested gaze remained on his phone, his chin propped up on his hand.  

“You’re rotten,” you frowned at him, knowing agreement taking over Dutch’s face. He sighed and looked at you with poorly hidden sympathy.  

“I can accompany you.”  

You softened at his offer but felt bad that he’d be willing to give up his evening to make you feel better.  “Surely you have someone you could take?” you suggested, hoping to alleviate your guilt by removing the obligation of taking you.   

Dutch shrugged a shoulder casually. “Or I could just take you.”   

“You really don’t have to do that.”   

“Do you want to come with me?” he coolly leant on the breakfast bar, his t-shirt rising to reveal the skin above his waistband, and it took all your strength not to glance down.  

“Well,” you brought your mug up and took a thoughtful sip. He’d offered enough, hadn’t he? You’d given him the opportunity to back out, and how often was it that you got free tickets to the ballet? “Sure I do.”   

“Then that’s the end of it,” he proclaimed, tapping your nose with the tickets.  

After offering him a small, grateful smile, you turned to John to find him just as uninterested as he was previously. “You don’t mind?” you asked, just in case, and he looked at you incredulously.  

That answers that question.  

-

Around midday, John returned to the living room (which was now a makeshift study room for the two of you) and announced that his father needed a hand with something on his computer.  

“He told me not to ask, but he’ll only spend hours driving himself insane,” he yawned, plonking himself down on the sofa.  

“Oh? No problem,” you stood. “I’ll go see if I can help. Do you know what the problem is?”

“Nope, he was just muttering to himself about the damn computer when I went to see him just now.”  

You nodded in understanding, and John thanked you as you left the room. You heard the ever-familiar ba-dum of Netflix and rolled your eyes; he didn’t even try to do any work this time before giving up.  

You made your way to Dutch’s office and knocked lightly on the door. “Dutch?” you called, “John said something was up with your computer, do you want me to have a look?”  

There was a pause before Dutch responded come in.  

“I did tell him not to ask you,” he said, elbows on his desk as he peered at the screen through his reading glasses, and you couldn’t help but notice how cute he looked.  

“That’s okay,” you chuckled affably, making your way over to the desk, glancing at the rows of books on his shelves as you did. “I’m due a break anyway. What’s the problem”  

“It isn’t anything, really. I’m just useless with technology, I’m afraid,” he said, almost bashfully.  

You shrugged, at ease. “Nothing wrong with that.”  

“It’s just this webpage -” he shunted a disapproving finger to his screen, “I can’t get off it.”  

“May I?” you asked, gesturing to it and he nodded, so you rounded to his side and leaned a hand on the desk.  

Upon seeing the issue, you decided that he was even cuter than you’d originally thought.

“Oh,” you leant forward further to reach the keyboard and press the correct buttons, the webpage returning to a recognisable state for Dutch. “You just press F eleven,” you explained. “Or, if you hover your mouse at the top of the screen, the bar should appear and give you the option to close it.  

“That’s all?” he asked, dismayed.  

“Yeah, that’s all.”  

“Well, aren’t I an idiot,” he huffed, sitting back in his chair. “Sorry to bother you for something so menial.”  

“Not at all,” you smirked. “Is there anything else?”  

“No, thank you, miss. That’s all,” he said politely, seemingly still agitated to be bested by a computer.  

“Least I could do, for you all your hospitality,” you shrugged, offering him an easy smile before departing the room.  

-

You’d managed to convince John to do some work with you, and somewhere between you nagging him and him distracting you, both of you were ready to spend a few hours apart by the time the next evening rolled around.   

It’d only just begun setting in, the realisation that you were going to see a show with Dutch... alone. While the thought had crossed your mind briefly when he asked you to come, you’d been too focused on the prospect of seeing a ballet after so long of not being able to. There was no going back now, though.   

Straightening your jacket, you walked into the kitchen to find Dutch leaning against the counter, scrolling on his phone. He glanced up when you entered, his features softening as you approached.  

“Excited?” he asked, and you nodded in agreement, for him to smile fondly before leading you out the front after shouting goodbye to John and Tilly.   

After the taxi journey where you caught up with one another, mainly polite small talk, you arrived at the beautiful, fancy venue and Dutch ordered himself an old fashioned, you a mojito, and you took your seats.  

“Your colleague really didn’t want these tickets?” you asked in shock; you were situated right at the front on the balcony.  

“No,” Dutch sat, making himself comfortable in the seat and patting the one next to him. “Come, sit.”  

You did so, looking at the stage and still not believing how good the view was. “But they’re such good seats?”  

“Well,” he shrugged, taking a sip of his drink, “suits me fine. Something came up and they couldn’t go. Shame to let them go to waste, don’t you think?”  

“Absolutely,” you agreed, shrugging off your jacket and Dutch couldn’t resist sneaking a peak at your flattering top. He swiftly reminded himself of the inappropriateness of doing so, and his lack of excuse for the action since he’d only had a swig of alcohol.  

Thankfully you didn’t notice. He always did pride himself on his subtlety.  

You sipped on your drink, relaxing back into the chair and propping up your arm on what you thought was the armrest.  

“Oh shit,” you pulled your arm into yourself, realising it was indeed not an armrest, but instead Dutch’s forearm, “sorry.”  

“Don’t apologise,” Dutch chuckled, removing his arm and gesturing to the rest, his hand moving to splay on his thigh instead. “Go ahead.”  

You smiled slightly awkwardly, gingerly resting your arm once again. Thankfully, the pair of you didn’t have to make too much small talk as it wasn’t long before the lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to play.   

As expected, the show was mesmerising. You did your best to hold back the tears threatening to fall at the beautiful dancers moving expertly across the stage, dressed in delightful costumes to the music you adored so much.   

The interval came around in no time, Dutch excusing himself for most of it as he queued for the bathroom but returned with two tubs of ice cream that you were extra grateful for... along with another round of drinks.  

“I wasn’t sure what you liked, so I went safe,” he passed you the vanilla tub along with your drink before seating himself beside you.  

“Oh, thank you, this is great,” you shunted your tub up for effect, “I’ll get the next round, though. If we have another, that is,” you added quickly.  

“If you think for one second I’m letting you spend a penny you are sorely mistaken,” he said plainly, though his genuine expression put you at ease.  

“I – I’m not completely poor, Dutch. I can afford a round of drinks.”  

“I believe you can. Though I also believe you shouldn’t have to.” Damn him and his stupidly quick replies. You briefly thought about how good he’d be at talking himself out of a hairy situation. “Speaking of, though,” he leaned towards you, softening his voice, “if you need money, I’d be more than okay with –”  

“No,” you answered immediately, cutting him off before he even had the chance, “no, definitely not. I don’t need money, I’m fine - no.”  

He smirked slightly, “that’s a no, then?”  

“No! I mean, it’s very kind of you, but I really am fine, and I can budget well enough. Besides, you hardly need a fourth kid to mind.”  

“That’s not how I see you,” he said evenly, taking a sip of his drink and returning his gaze towards the stage.  

Then the lights dimmed, and the orchestra began to play once more, announcing the start of the second act.  

By the end, you could hardly see the ballerina perform the dying swan, the veil of tears obscuring your view that you insisted would remain within the confines of your eyelids. However, when you looked down at what nudged your arm, your battle was lost as they fell, and you could clearly see a handkerchief being handed to you by Dutch. 

Glancing up at him as you took it, you shrunk back into your seat slightly. “It always gets me,” you whispered, and he chuckled gently as you brought the soft material up to dab at your under eyes and watched the rest of the performance until the audience clapped while the dancers took their bows, and the lights came up once again.  

You toyed with the handkerchief between your fingers, sighing contently as everyone began to shift around you. “That was incredible.”  

“It was,” Dutch agreed. “That’s my first time seeing it.”  

“Really?”  

Dutch hummed in agreement. “I’m usually more of an opera person.”  

“Oh, fair enough. Do you think you’ll go to one again?” you asked, not in a hurry to vacate your comfortable seat.  

“I’m almost certain that I will.”  

You smiled at that, happy to have converted at least one person to enjoying ballet since John was clearly a lost cause, and then you remembered his pitying reason for joining you in the first place. You stood, shrugging your jacket back on and Dutch followed suit. “Let me order the taxi back,” you said solidly, immediately unlocking your phone to disallow him room to argue.  

“I thought you wanted another round?”  

Raising your brows at him as your fingers paused their swiping through your apps, you met his expectant gaze. “We don’t have to; it was just a passing suggestion.”  

“I’d like to.”  

“Okay,” you shrugged, his unreadable expression sparking slight unease in your gut, “suppose another drink couldn’t hurt, it’s not too late.”  

“That’s the spirit,” he placed a hand on your upper back, turning you in the direction of the exit and leading you out of the theatre.  

As you neared the doors to the auditorium, something white on the ground caught your attention and you stopped to investigate it, Dutch looking at you quizzically as you did so. After picking it up you stood and smiled proudly at him, holding the single white feather up for him to see. “Look! Maybe it fell off a costume or something.”  

He hummed fondly in amusement, putting his hand on your back (though slightly lower than the previous time) to lead you back to the route out of the building. “Come on, little cygnet,” he crooned.  

You hoped the awkwardness was felt by you alone as the two of you strolled down the street in search of an enticing bar; you were no longer out with Dutch for the sake of not letting tickets go to waste. You were just... out with Dutch. Getting drinks. Alone.  

It’s not a big deal, you lamented to yourself in your thoughts. You were already out with him. You’re both just making the most of a nice evening. That satisfied your guilt with the situation somewhat, and why were you feeling guilty, anyway? You’d have to be blind to not recognise his conventional attractiveness, and there was nothing wrong with making an observation. Dutch was hot, plain and simple. He was tall, with good bone structure, thick hair, a nice physique... he was...  

Your best friend’s father. Nothing more than that.  

“How’s here?” Dutch stopped and you did too a beat later, thankful to be pulled out of your daydream, even if it was at the hands of its subject.   

“Works for me,” you answered automatically. Only once inside did you register your surroundings of the quaint yet casual bar, one with intimate round tables and gentle jazz music playing to just cover the noise from the patrons inside. The lights were dim, and you blinked your eyes a few times; noticing your drunkenness creeping up on you.  

“Take a seat wherever you like, I’ll grab us -”  

“No,” you said a hair too harshly, and Dutch’s amused gaze met yours. “Sorry, I – I did say it was my round.”  

“And I said -”  

“Dutch, please,” you placed your hand on his forearm pleadingly, your intoxication blocking you from noticing the way the man’s body stilled at your touch, “just - as a thank you. For tonight.”  

“Miss, it’s really -”  

“I’m not taking no for an answer.” You didn’t wait for a response, instead brushing past him to march up to the bar where Dutch’s amusement only grew as he watched you for a moment, then found a secluded table by the window.  

His face was just the same when you returned, and you dropped yourself into the seat across from him after placing the drinks down. “I didn’t know what you wanted, so I got you another old fashioned.”  

“Thank you,” he said, the hint of a smile still present on his face, “is that an espresso martini?”  

“It is, want to try it?”  

“Why not.” He reached across the table to wrap his fingers around the too-small stem of the glass and paused after lifting it. “You have to try mine too, though.”  

You shrugged, having a sip as he did the same. “Not bad.”  

“That’s sweeter than I thought it’d be,” he handed you your glass back and you used it to wash the taste of whiskey from your mouth.   

“Do you always drink whisky?”  

“Amongst other things,” he relaxed back in his chair after setting his glass down. “I suppose I have a taste for the... finer,” did he just glance down your form? “things in life.”   

“I see,” you nodded minimally.  

That smile passed over his lips once more, and you narrowed your brow at him in questioning. “I don’t remember the last time anyone spoke to me like that.”  

“Like what?” you asked, suddenly all too aware of the alcohol in your system and hoping you hadn’t crossed the line.  

“Like the way you just did.”  

“Oh, I didn’t mean it like -”  

He raised a hand to stop you, chuckling to himself. “Don’t apologise. It’s refreshing. I just didn’t expect it from you.”  

Your posture relaxed and you smiled at him, rather pleased with yourself for appearing to have a modicum of dominance when in the company of such a man.  

“It suits you,” Dutch continued, and you tilted your head for him to elaborate. “From my limited interaction with you, you apologise far too much. If you want something, you should just go for it,” he paused, dipping his chin, “seize it.”  

All you could think to do was nod, the lowering of his voice along with the content of the words it carried making you gulp involuntarily.   

“Okay?”  

You huffed a laugh. “Okay.”  

“Good,” he looked out the window and you sipped at your cocktail, and you could almost see him organising his thoughts behind his eyes. You waited, and after a moment he appeared to have readied them. “I half wondered if you and John had been dating, the first time he brought you.”  

“Me and John?!” you snorted incredulously, “god no. I -” you fumbled, realising who you were talking to, “I mean, he’s great, but... we’re just friends. Besides, I wouldn’t dare cross Abigail.”  

“Abigail?”   

Oops. “Oh... shit. I thought he’d have mentioned her – they're not serious. On and off all the time. She’s lovely though,” you added as an afterthought, hoping Dutch wouldn’t mention your slip-up to John.  

“Don’t worry, I won’t bring it up with him,” he smiled conspiratorially, as though reading your thoughts.  

Imagine that - he thought you were dating his son at first? It hadn’t even crossed your mind how it might appear, the two of you being close and you staying over to meet his family. “Why do you mention it? Were you vetting me to see if I was good enough for John?” you teased.  

“Believe me, my dear, I wouldn’t have needed to vet you for more than two minutes to know whether you were or not.”  

The hint in his words caused your playful expression to falter slightly, and he must’ve noticed it since he was quick to right himself. “I know better than anyone that my son is quite the idiot.”  

“Aw, he’s not all bad,” you said fondly. Something about John made him the easiest person to get on with, one who expected nothing from you and was still as loyal as they come. Though, that doesn’t negate the fact he could indeed be ‘quite the idiot’.  

“That’s certainly good to hear. Suppose he’s just different from Arthur, and I have a habit of comparing the two.”  

“Oh?” you shifted in your seat, “what was Arthur like growing up?”  

Dutch smiled melancholily, “about the same as he is now.”  

“I’m afraid I don’t know him all that well.”  

“Of course. Arthur was quiet, low maintenance, and always eager to please. Never once had to ask him to do anything he hadn’t already done; I thought this parenting business was easy until John came along and proved the opposite.”  

You laughed quietly, picturing the two of them as chalk and cheese. “So, John was high maintenance?”  

“Extremely so,” Dutch rolled his eyes, but affection for his middle child was still obvious despite the action.  

“And Tilly?”  

“Tilly is also high maintenance when she wants to be, but I’m the one at fault for that.”

“How come?”  

“She’ll always be the baby,” he shrugged. “All of us babied her too much, though I couldn’t find it in me to stop. It’s like every time I’d try not to, she’d sense it and blink up at me with those big eyes – effectively wrapping me around her little finger.”  

You smiled warmly; Dutch was surprisingly soft on the inside despite appearances. The two of you continued in your knowledge-share of each other’s personal lives, you telling him a little about your own family history too over another round of drinks (where Dutch insisted you take his card up to the bar to pay for them). Then, as you did your best job of hiding a yawn, he tutted at you.  

“What?” you frowned.  

“That job of yours doesn’t seem like such a good idea.”  

“It’s fine,” you shrugged, “hardly like I have much choice.”  

He hummed, unconvinced, and finished the last of the drink. “Best we get you home so you can rest.”  

“Alright,” you agreed, part of you wishing you could stay out but also yearning to snuggle up in a duvet.  

The house was quiet when you returned, its other two inhabitants seemingly fast asleep. You removed your shoes and stopped at the first step up the stairs as Dutch turned from unlocking the door, clearing his throat.  

“That was fun,” you began, “thank you for taking me.”  

His face softened, though a tightness still resided in his features. “You’re very welcome, sweetheart,” he said gently.  

Sweetheart. If that didn’t make you all warm and tingly.  

After a pause, where you half forget where you were and who you were talking to, you bid him good night with a final smile and trotted up the stairs to the spare room. The first thing you did upon entering was sit on the end of the bed, taking a single breath to decompress. The alcohol allowed you to remain buzzed, but coupled with the quiet of your room allowed some rather... unsavoury thoughts to surface. You began to overthink the evening and replay parts of it in your head – had Dutch been flirtatious with you? There was nothing explicit that he’d said, but the lingering touches and glances had you second-guessing yourself. You also still couldn’t believe he just happened upon the tickets, but what was the alternative? That he went out of his way to get them so he could take you? It sounded insane. Surely it was the alcohol talking.  

But there was something else. You couldn’t put your finger on it, but the feeling alone that you got from him was not one of pure courtesy. As the drinks flowed, he became more at ease, and the evening became more about the two of you getting to know each other. He seemed genuinely interested in your personal life, your family history, your job... though the circumstances were too ludicrous to seem pre-planned. But what if it was?  

As though answering your thoughts, a gentle knock came from the door and you straightened out your clothes. Clearly, you weren’t the only one whose thoughts had continued further than where the evening had ended. It was happening. You took a breath and opened up.  

“Sorry, I -” he paused, brow twitching at your almost dreamy expression thanks to the thoughts you’d entertained only moments prior about the man himself as he stood in your doorway. “Are you okay?”  

“Course,” you said, taking an instinctive step back as the urge to indulge your fancy almost overrode your grasp on the magnitude of carrying out such an action.  

He nodded uncertainly, as though he’d forgotten why he knocked in the first place. “I just came to check something,” he thought aloud, as though muddling through his own drunken haze, taking your step back as an invitation in as he took the few paces across the threshold and into your room.  

To check something? He must’ve shared the same inner turmoil as you. Had it circled his head and convinced him it could be true to the point where he had to check? Make a stab in the dark because he couldn’t bare not knowing, either?  

You had chemistry with one another. No matter how hard you tried (which, admittedly, was not very hard), you could deny it no longer.  

You turned, anticipation and excitement thrumming underneath your skin and leaving no room for anything else, and you were met with Dutch running a hand through his hair disparagingly while he looked down at his jacket. He looked up to you with concern, looking as though he was going to say more, but you decided to save him from needing to. His hand paused with his hair spun in between his fingers when you stepped towards him, eyes alight as though it was the only place he couldn’t suppress his inner thoughts.  

Honestly, it was easy. Your hand gravitated to his waist, and your lips to his. It was scary just how easy it was. Softly, you kissed him, your pulse kicking up a notch at the scent of him so close, his moustache against your upper lip, and his muscular flank beneath your palm.  

“Sweetheart,” he whispered, spurring you on some but you took your lips from his to take a breath. Your eyes fluttered open and his hand found your waist, pushing you away...  

Pushing you away?  

“I -” he began with uncertainty, and your blood started to run cold, “I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression –”  

Oh Jesus oh fuck. What have you done.  

You brought a hand to your mouth and took a step back, pure horror taking over you at the realisation that this was a rejection, not a reciprocation. “Shit,” you managed, “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I just – I thought -”  

“It’s,” he swallowed, extremely taken aback, “it’s okay. Don’t - don’t worry. I... I came to check if you had my card. From the drinks," he trailed off and you nodded fervently, quickly pulling his card from your jacket it and effectively shunting it in his hand.

He edged towards the door, slowly as though any sudden movements would startle you into a frenzy. “I’m the one that’s sorry, it’s not that you’re -”  

“No,” you said hoarsely, surprised you were still standing considering what had just transpired between you and your best friend’s father. “There’s no need to explain, I – I understand.”  

He shook his head to disallow your apology once again, and you could do nothing but stand there and look at him reproachfully. “I -” he put a hand on the door, “good night.”  

Dutch left before you could respond, which was for the best since there was nothing in your mind but shame and dread. Eventually, you managed to take a seat on the bed, dropping your head into your hands.  

John was going to kill you. If not literally, the perception your friends had of you when they found out would be a death within itself, since how could this be forgiven? This was an unrightable wrong, plain and simple.  

You were almost glad for the numbness that washed over you, for it allowed you to manage some sleep.  

However, it was around five AM when you awoke the next morning, and there was a brief second of calm before you remembered what you’d done.  

John hadn’t stormed into your room so that meant he didn’t know... yet. Was there a chance Dutch wouldn’t tell him? It wasn’t something you wanted to find out, either way.  

As quickly as you could, you packed up all your things and dressed before booking a taxi to pick you up. You had to get out. Screw the extra charge for getting an earlier train ticket; you had to leave immediately.  

So you did.  

[tiikerikani]

People pointing (at things)

2024 Aug 31 – Kasarmitori, Helsinki

I guess they outgrew Allas Sea Pool so they're here instead.

This is the picture post - there's other stuff I want to say but it doesn't really fit into this post so it is a separate one.

I'm starting to get the hang of using the camera on the iPhone, but mostly took pictures during the first half. Can you tell which pictures in this post are taken with my normal phone? Hint: There are two.

I seem to have subconsciously leaned into "people pointing" pictures so I ran with it (although I do take a lot of them even normally). Here's some of my favorites.

Felt kind of compelled to film Samaan mutkaan kaatunut even though you can hear how they perform it with the same orchestration on the live album. So you can see the headbanging, I guess?

The daylight ruins the drama a bit (starting and ending in black with the lights out) but that's just how being outdoors works.

I prefer the way the piano intro goes on the studio recording (it's slightly different) so that's how I play it, but anyway…

I normally sing along to this but I swear I was only mouthing it this time so that's everybody else you hear. I do, however, often sing loudly to the songs I know best and fit in my range. Sorry to everybody else filming things from the middle of the first/second row.

I'll break it up here since there's even more pictures in this post.

Now for some non-pointing pictures

I love you toooooooo

Intense face:

Better reaction shot

(And OK wow his tattoos are really legible in this picture.)

To avenge my potato video of Kanto (and also the potato video from Joensuu the other week - which I didn't post), here's a not-potato video of the song from guitar solo onward, as good as Tumblr lets me upload it ->

There was a hotdog and burger stand, and they needed to get rid of the remaining food at the end of the evening so I got a cup of hotdog sausages for 4€ (normally 8€). I hadn't really eaten all day so I wasn't picky.

Practically as the stage lights turned off I saw the band van pull up to (presumably) whisk the players away. On the way out to catch the tram I passed by the stage entrance to the area and Jepa (and the other ladies) were talking to people. (They'd arrived as a separate group in the afternoon so I assume they were also leaving separately.) I stopped to wave at her before continuing on, and she stepped away from them and came to hug me and was like "hey nice to see you, I saw you were there but was a bit hard to see because Pate was in front of me". (Yeah one problem of me being right in the middle is that it's hard to see some people, like I can't see Teemu either when Senpai is singing, and I've never actually watched the trombone guy play.)

Anyway, this interaction was a bit perplexing because she could have also just waved back and left it at that, but she didn't. I can't tell how much is her just being polite and how much she genuinely cares. Because back in July I'd gone to one of her solo gigs at a cafe (I took down the set list but didn't write about it) and since she'd appreciated my miniature I'd asked if there was anything I could do as a calligraphy piece for her (totally for free) and she'd made a non-committal "I'll keep it in mind" when I told her that this was 100% a serious offer. (It is.) Or like the time she said that oh maybe Senpai will come talk to fans, when the gentlemen were quite confident that he wouldn't. This type of polite speech to avoid causing hurt feelings or disappointment is a perfectly normal reflex in Anglo-American culture, but isn't very Finnish (unless you're trying to make a salesperson go away, which is probably fairly universal).

Maailma palaa

Kohti sydänpeltoja

Huomenna kaduttaa

Jamesin takki

Kolme hyvää vinkkiä

Ilman mua

Tummilla teillä

Rodeo

Samaan mutkaan kaatunut

Exodus

Valot eteiseen

Kiljut riemusta

Faarao

Kanto

Nuoriherra

Hetken ikuinen

Turisti

// Ei voittajaa

// Kukaan ei koskaan

// Arlandan portailla

[Concert write-up archive and master calendar]

[wibble-wobbegong]

Wibble, I need you to explain me something about the van scene pretty please. It's about Will mentioning "playing nintendo and dnd for the rest of their lives", was Mike sad about El or was he sad because he remembered their rain fight in S3? I'm not entirely sure about this, so I really need your thoughts about this.

short answer: he was thinking about el

long answer: ok so to answer this we’re gonna really have to consider the weight behind that line and the context we were given going into that scene

I’d suggest watching the scene itself while i talk about this bc i can only use photos and those don’t relay the information as well as the scene

so! context. what’re we being set up with? the stuff with mike and will us in the middle of their conversation. it seems they had been looking at stuff on the map already when will brings up vegas. mike responds to will’s question, “from vegas?” as if they had been seeing how far other things were from NINA. probably stuff like gas stations or motels or restaurants, but then will brings up vegas which doesn’t really fit with other stuff so that’s why mike asks “why?” (pronouns: whaey..? with extra breathlessness)

what’s important about mike’s body language in this scene is that he’s watching will intently, staring at will as he talks.

we see mike have this staring problem in scenes when he’s thinking about will because his eyes are naturally drawn to him. will just so happens to occupy a lot of mike’s thoughts, so it happens a lot

there’s a change in this body language after he brings up DND and nintendo, though. mike is no longer able to hold eye contact with will for very long. he’s thinking about something else and he’s thinking about it hard

why does that line trigger this change? well, let’s think about it. DND, video games, rest of their lives. those are all very important in mike wheeler code for loving will. i think it’s important to remember here that mike is still waiting for an answer from will. he’s confessed his feelings and will has yet to confirm or deny his reciprocation. will has just brought up something that immediately reminds him of the struggle of s3 that involved both will and el, specifically the romantic issue. he’s currently in the in-between phase of breaking up with el and being with will here. mike has confessed and will hasn’t responded. el has returned the sentiment that she doesn’t love mike by signing off her letter “from, el” rather than simply breaking up with him

mike being in this weird limbo with both of them and having those old memories brought up probably shone a light on mike’s biggest fear about breaking up with el; losing her. he doesn’t feel like he has value to her outside of being her boyfriend, and he’s been able to ignore it this far but will has just brought up the very thing that almost caused him to lose will because he was obsessing over el. in the same way, i think he’s afraid that when he and el officially break up and he returns to the things he pushed away, he might lose her.

his following rant is mostly filmed like this;

whenever mike is thinking about will, he’s in frame if he isn’t looking at him directly. even when the moment definitely should not call for him to be in frame, he’ll be there if mike is thinking about him. my favorite examples of this!

during this rant, mike is only occasionally and quickly glancing at will before staring back at nothing. will isn’t in frame for the vast majority of his little self deprecating speech!!

really, mike was thinking about el at that point. mike knows he’s in love with will, confessed to him, and he also knows el isn’t in love with him. waiting for will’s response has left mike with a lot anticipation and he’s started to get closer with will in many ways. he’s not afraid of what will has to say, so that isn’t what’s stressing him out right here. he’s worried about how truly embracing himself will impact his relationship with el. he doesn’t want to lose her, but they’ve already started the process of falling apart and he’s been able to distract himself from it but then will says something that hits the very core of a lot of mike’s pain around his feelings for both of them.

that’s why mike looks Like That when will says, “you’re scared of losing her.” he read mike’s mind, but just not in the way he thinks

but basically, he was thinking about el here. he’s spent a lot of time using el as a cover before this conversation, but this wasn’t what one of those moments. when he uses el as a cover, he watches will intently for reactions and he speaks vaguely. none of what mike says is vague and he isn’t looking for a reaction from will. he’s just ranting about his fears to the one person he know he can trust with this information

hope that explains it 👍

[earthsickwithoutyou]

Calvaire, 2004 - ★½ (contains spoilers)

This review may contain spoilers.

Eh. This movie, for me, was mostly wasted potential. The first thing that throws me off is this movie being referenced as part of New French Extremity. It's nowhere near extreme enough to have its title bandied about with the likes of Inside, Frontier(s) and Martyrs, hence setting up false expectations.

So where does this perception of extremity come from? I suspect it's simply because many viewers are so unused to seeing a man put in some of the roles/situations in this film. We're used to seeing a woman subjected to such torment and abuse. But when it happens to women in horror films, it's a lot worse than this! If it's a dude, suddenly this is on par with NFE just for subverting gender roles?

The protagonist makes no sense as a character, setting up the dull, shapeless screenplay (use of mysteriousness/unanswered questions doesn't work at all, nor does it seem calculated; it's like the movie isn't finished).

Calvaire goes out of its way to establish Marc as this adorably sweet man with musical ambitions but not much success, who puts on cheesy but fun concerts at nursing homes. He seems to enjoy bringing happiness to the lonely residents.

Then this whole side of his personality is instantly dropped, never to return, what, five, ten minutes into the movie? Because a confused and infatuated senior lady makes an overly handsy pass at him. Her emotional distress and innocence of meaning harm are so clear, yet he chooses to not respond in any way except to move slightly away from her. Weird. Most people in this unpleasant but understandable situation would probably have some sort of verbal response, not a cold shut-down. You'd either be upset or apologetically reject the person, or say something quick and hopefully comforting before leaving the room. He also sits there listening blankly/numbly as she insults herself in the most wretched terms. What is this guy's deal?

FF to him leaving the nursing home, where a nurse (described in one review as "slightly younger" than the senior lady from earlier, hahahaha she's much younger, but a little older than Marc.). This is hardly a disgraceful move on the nurse's part, except that she won't let it go and becomes a creepy stalker. What vibe is Marc giving off that he can't peel women off him?

I do concur that the meaning here is to show us how women are treated IRL / in other horror films, but happening to a man, as it foreshadows and gives context to what happens next. Sure, but Marc is so lifeless, free from personality or reacting in any way human to these seduction attempts that it's too easy to feel bad for the women and not care about him. A pattern that sadly continues, even as Marc's aggressors become male.

Someone with no personality and silent, smug, lack of verbal answer to situations where most people would certainly have something to say does not ride around in a funky van with his own name on it or wear a damn cape to perform Tom Jones-esque numbers at an elderly home. It does not occur. IRL or movies.

I digress, so moving on. Marc heads off to the next gig. Question, is he going a different way than he came? Asking because suddenly the depressing but fairly realistic world of the movie changes into a hellish, dark, frightening forest a la In the Company of Wolves. Where tf IS he? Why is there this village, not that far away from society at all, yet isolated and ignored as it festers in horror? UH.

Marc's van breaks down because of course it does. I tend to tolerate this worn-out trope because follow-up is usually a lot more satisfying. Here, all we get is boring or depressing.

Case in point: the man who wanders the woods throughout the movie, delusional and heartbroken, crying and looking for his lost dog. I have read some reviews claiming to find the character to be comic relief. Hell no, he's depressing AF. Except for the one, best part of the movie when he tells Marc to shut up, the first time they meet ("I meant be silent with your mouth!"). So this character gets the gold metal for causing an emotional reaction from me that was engaging. But there are no more such moments of dry humor from him, imo, because he's too desperate and messed up, which just isn't funny.

Marc, dumb enough to drive down an abandoned rural road at night in a beat-up van that already barely started when he left the comparatively innocuous problems back at the nursing home, adds to his display of stupidity by FOLLOWING THE MENTALLY UNHINGED, CREEPY MAN TO THE "INN" IN AN EVEN MORE ISOLATED LOCATION AND LEAVING HIS VAN BEHIND. From this point on, I have little pity to spare him. He passively lets all of this shit happen to him while later crying and whining about it. My brother in Christ, you're a *disgrace* of a final girl (any final girl would have been more suspicious, guarded and defensive during the titular Ordeal). No one would put themselves in this position among obviously unstable and dangerous characters. the FUCK.

So, after following the mentally unhinged, creepy man to the "inn" in an even more isolated location and leaving his van behind, Marc decides to follow a "friendly" (obviously eerie and untrustworthy) fellow named Bartel into his house (not even being used as an inn anymore. It's literally just this man's house, anything could fucking be in there. WHO DOES THIS

Moreover, he very passively sits back and does very little aside from look bored and vaguely annoyed, allowing Bartel (not a mechanic) to work on his van "as a favor." Sure, that's normal. And wicked smart as far as the well-being of the van, too. WHY Marc WHY.

The audience watches in some sort of "NO, REALLY?" sarcastic stupor as the second Marc leaves on a walk, Bartel gets into the van, goes through all his shit, and acts like creepy stalker volume 2. The much, much worse version. Wow, what a shock, you mean Bartel is a bad guy??

Marc goes on a nice lil' stroll with no expression on his face, as he does. He encounters a barn with something happening inside that is so disgusting (w/ regard to animal treatment) that it is angering and took me right out of the movie. I can watch almost anything happen to an adult human, but leave animals and children alone, jesus. A terrible scene.

You'd think that after witnessing such depraved, sick, awful behavior, Marc would freak the fuck out. He'd either burst in and try to save the animal, or he'd call the villagers out on their misdeeds instinctively, well-advised or not. That's human. Or he'd run for the hills, possibly screaming. He'd definitely get out of this community immediately after. But he goes back to Bartel, does not say a word about the incident or even show any reaction, so what was the point, btw, and then he lets Bartel transparently trick him into staying another night. 🤣

Bartel cooks Marc another free meal, which apparently is palatable and not poisoned. Marc does his "I exist, I guess" routine while Bartel tells a super pathetic and yup, shocker, depressing story of how his partner Gloria abandoned him and his life fell apart.

By now, Idk who would give a fuck about Marc, who responds insensitively once again while letting himself get more entangled in the plans of a sub-Norman-Bates-level villain. Bartel ends up being the more sympathetic character, because at least he has a personality, his motives are clear, and his insanity is tragic. It doesn't justify his horrible actions, but again, we understand it, it has some meaning. Who listens to a man telling such a story and then has next to nothing to say, not even "man that sucks, I'm so sorry to hear." ?

On we go to Bartel getting Marc to sing for him after dinner. Marc half-asses it but sings a pretty catchy song and has a nice voice. The movie immediately goes back to being boring and predictable thereafter.

The next day, Marc figures out (after being in this house for one night, a full day and a second night, not to mention the crazy stuff in the woods) that Bartel is lying to him, taking his belongings, and keeping him there under false pretenses of helping. Like no fucking DUH, Marc!!

In passing, I add that they cast a big, strong-looking, young actor as Marc, so every time Bartel, who's smaller, older, and unstable, overpowers the protagonist, I was taken out of the movie again. Nothing feels real, even for movie-world and suspension of disbelief or allegory, you have to have some basic core elements that anchor the story or it goes adrift, like my attention and regard.

The big twist gets revealed and this could have been dived into with some real shockers and mined for the deep psychological and social messages within. Instead, it's sort of taped onto the movie like a store-brand Christmas bow on a gift box full of meh.

Let's have a look at Marc's ordeal: 1) he gets himself into a situation no one would ever get themselves into because it's so dumbass, it physically hurts to watch, 2) as soon as Bartel wants him to "be" Gloria, Marc fights and sobs like a toddler whose parent turned off Dora. Wait now. I get that "in a moment of trauma you never know how anyone would react" but this goes on a while. Marc never just...plays along? And gets Bartel vulnerable before taking him out? Which would be...easy....??!! The family in Funny Games were winners of the Hunger Games compared to this shit right here.

3) he has to wear an ugly dress, boohoo PLEASE, 4) Bartel ties him up with rope, like not zipties or handcuffs but rope. There are likely any number of sharp objects around, but Marc has better things to do like, 5) screeching like a banshee while Bartel shaves his head, hold still buddy, why would you choose this time to flail and resist while the villain has a razor on your head??

Because the movie makes nothing clear and nothing has any sense to it, I genuinely can't tell how badly Bartel wounded him in this scene, nor are we told. Just left to guess because there's some amount of blood there. If this man had been cut deeply in this area, no way is he not getting an infection or possibly just dying long before the rest of the movie's events unfold.

Anyway, if Bartel does anything worse to this point, aside from cuddling (wait for him to fall asleep, kick the shit out of him?? Etc?), we're not shown. I can't judge the severity of the abuse if we are not explicitly told what it is, thus I do not care.

Bartel goes into town a while later and we get to see that the whole community is male, no explanation, and they are all really freaky dancers with equally fucked up taste in music. Supposed to be funny, and lots of people find it to be. Felt tonally dissonant to me, and/or just boring because no one has a personality and we don't know what or why anything happens.

Right so Christmas, Marc tries to escape while once again acting as if his situation is much more confining and difficult to get out of than it is. The worst thing we've seen to this point is the consequence for this, crucifixion in Bartel's barn. Marc made more noise when his head got shaved.

This was all avoidable at every step of the way.

The surface-level exploration of fascinating themes plods along, a bunch more sick and depressing small moments occur, followed by a scene in which it appears that Marc is to suffer a horrific attack, also of the sort which women are usually victimized by in these films. But only one of the whole gang of villagers seemingly penetrates Marc, and doesn't finish before Marc miraculously escapes again. From the crowd of lunatics who plan to you-know-what him. OKAY.

Not that I wanted any of that to happen to anyone ever, but this is about the movie having a point or not.

That's why this movie is not NFE. You cannot go half in on putting the male character through what women in horror movies suffer. You can't make it easier on him ffs, it negates the point or at least ruins the intensity!

Blah blah blah, the villagers off Bartel, then chase Marc real slowly through the Evil Forest. They are so painfully bad at pursuit that the women of Yellowjackets would have enough shishkabobs to last the whole winter just from this gaggle of idiots.

A Deep Moment occurs right at the end, where the movie finally decides to momentarily dip its toes in the psychological meaning/message of the story. Then guess what? IT ENDS. It cuts off right when it got good again for the first time in about an hour and fifteen minutes.

I realize lots of horror fans adore this movie and I don't begrudge anyone their love for what they love. In fact, I'm happy for you if you highly enjoyed the movie. However, for me this was simply such a frustrating watch that I couldn't NOT go off afterwards. UGH. Goddamn. 😒

from Letterboxd - Virginia Mae https://ift.tt/Rib2IYL

[sofiamantegafan110]

NEW X-MEN, EPISODE 1: PILOT PART 1

EPISODE 1 IS UP!!!!

WE OPEN UP ON A BUS STOP WITH A SINGLE HOODED FIGURE WAITING BY IT. WHEN A BUS PULLS UP, THE FIGURE STEPS ON. THE DRIVER SAYS THAT SHE’S A PECULIAR-LOOKING LADY, AND ASKS HER WHERE SHE WANTS TO GO.

THE CAMERA ZOOMS IN ON THE HOODED FIGURE, WHO HAS SILVER SKIN AND RED HAIR. ANY X-FAN WOULD KNOW THAT THIS IS CESSILY KINCAID.

CESSILY: XAVIER’S, PLEASE. I’VE GOT A DATE WITH DESTINY.

AS THE BUS DRIVES OFF, CESSILY SITS DOWN AND LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW. IN A VOICE-OVER, CESSILY TALKS ABOUT HER REGULAR LIFE, AND THEN HOW SHE GOT HER MUTANT POWERS. AFTER FEELING LIKE A FISH OUT OF WATER FOR A LONG TIME, SHE HEARD ABOUT XAVIER’S AND DECIDED THAT THAT WAS THE PLACE FOR HER; A PLACE FOR HER TO BE HERSELF.

CESSILY: *VOICE-OVER* I’M A MUTANT. AND THIS IS WHERE I BELONG.

CUE INTRO AND CREDITS.

EVENTUALLY, THE BUS PULLS UP AT A FRONT GATE. THE DRIVER TELLS CESSILY THAT HE HOPES SHE FINDS WHAT SHE’S LOOKING FOR. CESSILY GETS OFF THE BUS AND STARES IN AMAZEMENT AT THE HUGE SCHOOL. A SONG PLAYS IN THE BACKGROUND AS CESSILY WALKS TOWARD THE COURTYARD, WHERE OTHER STUDENTS ARE HEADED.

CESSILY WALKS PAST A PINK-SKINNED GIRL IN A GREEN HOODIE, WHO STANDS ALONGSIDE THE X-MAN KITTY PRYDE. KITTY TELLS THE GIRL, CLARICE, THAT THIS ISN’T A PUNISHMENT. IT’S MORE OF AN OPPORTUNITY. A CHANCE TO CONNECT WITH PEOPLE LIKE HER. CLARICE SCOFFS AND SAYS THAT SHE’D HONESTLY HAVE CHOSEN JUVIE OVER THIS. KITTY SMILES AND TELLS HER THAT THIS PLACE ISN’T THAT BAD. SOON, SHE’LL LOVE XAVIER’S.

CLARICE: I’VE GOTTEN OUT OF WORSE PLACES. THIS SCHOOL CAN’T HOLD ME.

KITTY SIGHS BEFORE WALKING PAST TWO BOYS, JULIAN KELLER AND SANTO VACCARRO. JULIAN TELLS SANTO THAT HE’S EXCITED FOR A NEW YEAR AT THIS PLACE. SANTO GRINS, STATING HIS EXCITEMENT AT BEING A SOPHOMORE IN A PLACE FOR FREAKS AND GEEKS. JULIAN IMMEDIATELY DIVERTS THE CONVERSATION BACK TO HIM, SAYING THAT HE HAS A LOT ON HIS PLATE. HE’S DEAD SET ON BEING CAPTAIN OF THE FOOTBALL TEAM, AND FINDING SOME NEW EYE CANDY NOW THAT HIM AND MONET ARE THROUGH. SANTO JUST TELLS HIM THAT THAT’S PROBABLY JUST HIS DICK TALKING.

IMMEDIATELY, JULIAN NOTICES A PRETTY LATINA GIRL GETTING OUT OF A FANCY CAR AND HE TELLS SANTO THAT THIS IS EXACTLY WHAT HE’S TALKING ABOUT. THIS GIRL IS THE ONE. SANTO TELLS HIM THAT HE SHOULD ALSO TRY FOCUSING ON THE THINGS THAT MATTER, LIKE BEING KING OF THE HALLOWEEN DANCE, AND COMING OUT AS VALEDICTORIAN. JULIAN SAYS TO BE PATIENT. ALL THIS WILL BE HIS IN TIME.

SANTO: JUST TRY NOT TO SPEND TOO MUCH TIME GETTING INTO THIS CHICK’S PANTS, OKAY?

AS THEY CONTINUE TO TALK, WE FOCUS IN ON THE GIRL, SOFIA MANTEGA, EAGERLY SHOOTING A VIDEO ON HER INSTAGRAM. SHE STATES HER EXCITEMENT AT THE CHANCE OF STARTING A NEW SCHOOL WITH NEW FRIENDS, NEW DRAMA, AND NEW POSSIBILITIES. SHE THEN EXAMINES HER HAIR BEFORE USING THE WIND TO BLOW IT INTO PLACE, MAKING A FACE IN FRONT OF THE CAMERA.

WHILE SOFIA FILMS, A BEAT-UP OLD VAN PULLS UP TO THE DRIVEWAY. THE DRIVER, A STOUT WOMAN IN HER LATE THIRTIES, TELLS THE UNSEEN PASSENGER THAT THEY’RE THERE. THE PASSENGER DOOR OPENS, REVEALING A REDHEADED BOY IN A JEAN JACKET CARRYING A GUITAR CASE. HE STEPS OUT A BIT SULLENLY AS THE WOMAN TELLS HIM TO LIGHTEN UP. IT’S A BIG OPPORTUNITY TO GET INTO XAVIER’S. USING THE NAME JOSH, SHE INFORMS HIM THAT SHE KNOWS HE’LL DO GREAT, JUST LIKE HIS BROTHER AND SISTER.

JAY: MY NAME IS JAY, MA. NEW SCHOOL, NEW NAME, NEW LIFE.

JAY’S MOM SMILES AND TELLS HIM THAT HOPEFULLY IT WON’T BE A COMPLETE PERSONALITY CHANGE. HE’S BEEN SO DOWN ALL BECAUSE OF WHAT HAPPENED WITH JULIA OVER THE SUMMER. HE SHOULD REMEMBER THAT THERE’S GOOD THINGS IN LIFE. HE JUST NEEDS TO KNOW WHERE TO LOOK. SHE THEN DRIVES OFF, LEAVING JAY TO WALK OVER TO THE QUAD WITH HIS BELONGINGS.

HE WALKS PAST A SULLEN-LOOKING GOTH GIRL, STANDING IN A SHADY CORNER AWAY FROM THE OTHER STUDENTS. LAURA KINNEY LOOKS OVER AT HER COMPANION, WOLVERINE, WHO TELLS HER THAT SHE SHOULD GO AND MINGLE WITH THE OTHER KIDS. IT’LL HELP BUILD A HEALTHY RELATIONSHIP HERE. LAURA CALMLY REPLIES THAT HE KNOWS SHE CAN’T DO THAT. HE KNOWS WHAT HAPPENS.

LOGAN ASSURES HER THAT XAVIER’S IS DIFFERENT. SHE’LL BE SAFE HERE. LAURA TELLS HIM THAT SHE’S SAFE WITH HIM. THIS SCHOOL… THESE PEOPLE… WILL REJECT HER WHEN THEY KNOW WHAT SHE TRULY IS. LOGAN PATS HER ON THE BACK, TELLING HER HE’S JUST A PHONE CALL AWAY. BUT HE’D LIKE TO SEE HER TRY TO FIT IN HERE. PEOPLE WILL ACCEPT HER IF SHE LETS THEM IN. LAURA SHRUGS AND WALKS OVER TO REGISTER AND GET HER ROOM KEY.

LAURA IS WATCHED BY A BLOND WOMAN IN WHITE CLOTHING, WHO STANDS BESIDE A MAN WITH RED SUNGLASSES. EMMA FROST SAYS THAT SHE CAN’T BELIEVE SHE LET LOGAN BRING THAT GIRL HERE. CYCLOPS TELLS HER THAT PEOPLE AREN’T ALWAYS WHAT THEY SEEM. IF SHE GIVES LAURA A CHANCE, IT’LL HELP HER. EMMA SIGHS, TELLING HIM THAT THAT’LL BE THE DAY. CYCLOPS SAYS THAT IF SHE WANTS TO BE THE CO-HEAD OF THE SCHOOL, SHE NEEDS TO PLAY FAIR. NO MORE GIVING STUDENTS LIKE MONET AND JULIAN AN EGO BOOST.

EMMA: SCOTT, DARLING, THE TIGRESS CAN’T CHANGE HER STRIPES. I CAN’T JUST BE LIKE A REPLACEMENT FOR JEAN AND YOU KNOW THAT.

SCOTT: JUST MAKE SURE TO REIN IT IN, EMMA. THESE CHILDREN ARE YOUNG. IMPRESSIONABLE.

EMMA: I STOPPED LISTENING AFTER ‘EMMA’, DARLING.

AS EMMA WALKS OFF, TWO ADULT WOMEN, DANI MOONSTAR AND XUAN CAO MANH, OBSERVE THE GAGGLE OF NEW STUDENTS. DANI IS EXCITED FOR THE NEW YEAR. WHILE GLOBETROTTING WAS FUN, SHE FEELS LIKE SHE’LL BE ABLE TO MAKE A DIFFERENCE TEACHING HERE. XUAN CHUCKLES, TELLING HER THAT IT’S IMPORTANT TO FIND THE RIGHT STUDENTS FOR A SQUAD. WHILE THEY’RE BOTH NEW TO THIS, THEY HAVE TO REMEMBER TO HELP MOLD THE MINDS OF THESE STUDENTS.

DANI: I KNOW. AND TRUST ME, I HAVE A GREAT FEELING ABOUT THIS YEAR.

WE CUT TO THE HALLWAY WHERE CLARICE IS SEARCHING FOR HER DORM. SHE HAS BEEN LOOKING FOR TEN MINUTES AND STILL CAN’T FIND IT. SHE TAKES A LOOK AT HER SCHEDULE, ONLY TO FIND THAT SHE’S ON THE WRONG HALLWAY. SHE CURSES, FORMING A PORTAL OUT OF THIN AIR AND JUMPING THROUGH IT. AS SHE DOES, SHE BUMPS INTO SOFIA, KNOCKING THEM BOTH OVER.

CLARICE: GOD DAMMIT! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOING, YOU…

SHE IMMEDIATELY PAUSES, LOOKING AT SOFIA IN AMAZEMENT. CLARICE’S PERSPECTIVE GOES INTO SLOW MOTION AS SOFIA LOOKS AT HER, FLIPPING HER HAIR BACK. SOFIA APOLOGIZES AND USES THE WIND TO COLLECT HER BOOKS WHILE CLARICE SITS THERE, AWESTRUCK. CLARICE INTRODUCES HERSELF, HER FACE TURNING AN EVEN DARKER SHADE OF PINK WHILE SOFIA ALSO INTRODUCES HERSELF.

SOFIA SMILES, TELLING CLARICE THAT SHE HOPES TO SEE HER AROUND. FLUSTERED, CLARICE SPOUTS OUT INCOHERENT PETTIFOG WHILE SOFIA GIGGLES AND THEN WALKS OFF. CLARICE FINALLY STANDS UP AND BEGINS TO CLUELESSLY WALK IN SOFIA’S DIRECTION BEFORE REALIZING THAT SHE’S GOING THE WRONG WAY. SHE THEN TURNS AROUND AND KEEPS WALKING, EVENTUALLY BUMPING INTO A WALL.

MEANWHILE, LAURA IS CURRENTLY SHOWERING IN HER DORM. WHEN SHE HEARS THE DOOR OPEN, SHE IMMEDIATELY TURNS OFF THE TAP, GRABBING A TOWEL AND UNSHEATHING HER TWIN CLAWS IN HER LEFT HAND. SHE WALKS OUT THE BATHROOM, COMING FACE TO FACE WITH A MUSLIM GIRL IN AN ABAYA AND NIQAB VEIL. THE GIRL INTRODUCES HERSELF AS SOORAYA, HER ROOMMATE. LAURA, CONFUSED, SECURES HER TOWEL AND SHEATHES HER CLAWS.

SOORAYA: ARE YOU NEW TOO? I DEFINITELY AM. I’M FROM AFGHANISTAN. THIS IS MY FIRST DAY HERE.

LAURA NODS AS SOORAYA TALKS ABOUT HER ANTICIPATION TO BE IN AN AMERICAN SCHOOL. SHE THEN NOTICES LAURA AND ASKS HER IF SHE’S OKAY. LAURA NODS AGAIN AND SOORAYA ASKS IF SHE TALKS MUCH. LAURA JUST HEADS BACK INTO THE BATHROOM WHILE SOORAYA UNPACKS.

MEANWHILE, JULIAN AND SANTO HEAD INTO THEIR DORM. JULIAN BUMPS SANTO’S ROCKY FIST BEFORE TELEKINETICALLY UNPACKING HIS STUFF. EVENTUALLY, THE DOOR OPENS, REVEALING A DARK-SKINNED GIRL WITH LONG BLACK HAIR, WHO LEANS AGAINST THE WALL WITH CONFIDENCE.

JULIAN: OH. HEY, MONET. WHAT ARE YOU-

MONET ANSWERS NOTHING MUCH. SHE JUST WANTS TO TELL HIM THAT SHE IS ONE HUNDRED PERCENT OVER THEIR BREAKUP. SHE’S GOT PLENTY OF BOYS AND SOME GIRLS WHO ARE JUMPING AT THE CHANCE TO DATE HER. JULIAN NODS, TELLING HER THAT THAT’S GOOD, BECAUSE HE HAS SOMEONE IN MIND TOO.

MONET NODS, TELLING HIM THAT SHE HOPES THIS LUCKY LADY HAS A GOOD HEAD ON HER SHOULDERS. IT’LL TAKE A LOT TO WITHSTAND HIS AMOUNT OF MALE TESTOSTERONE. SHE TELLS HIM GOOD LUCK AND REMINDS HIM TO WEAR PROTECTION BEFORE WALKING OFF. JULIAN SIGHS, ADMITTING TO SANTO THAT HE’S STILL NOT OVER THAT GIRL. SANTO NODS, SAYING THAT SHE HAS THAT AFFECT ON PEOPLE.

MEANWHILE, SOFIA ARRIVES AT HER DORM, EXCITED. SHE OPENS THE DOOR AND CESSILY RACES OUT, SMILING. SHE IMMEDIATELY INTRODUCES HERSELF AND STATES HER EXCITEMENT. SOFIA SMILES, SITTING DOWN ON HER BED AND COMPLIMENTING CESSILY’S SKIN. CESSILY STRETCHES HERSELF OVER TO HER BED, WATCHING SOFIA AEROKINETICALLY UNPACK AND COMPLIMENTING HER ACCENT. IT REMINDS HER OF JESSICA CRUZ FROM DC SUPER HERO GIRLS. CONFUSED, SOFIA ASKS WHAT THAT IS.

CESSILY: WAIT, SO YOU’VE NEVER SEEN THAT SHOW? WHAT ABOUT MONSTER HIGH? DOOM PATROL? EUPHORIA? HELLUVA BOSS? RAINBOW HIGH? LEGENDS OF TOMORROW? ANY OF THOSE?

SOFIA SHAKES HER HEAD AND CESSILY TELLS HER THAT SHE’LL MAKE SURE TO EDUCATE HER. SHE THEN TAKES OUT A STACK OF COMIC BOOKS AND PLACES THEM ON HER BED. SOFIA SMILES AND SAYS THAT SHE’S GOING TO LOVE BEING HER ROOMMATE.

MEANWHILE, JAY WALKS INTO HIS DORM, REVEALING A GOLDEN SKINNED BOY WITH BLOND HAIR. HE INTRODUCES HIMSELF AS JOSH FOLEY AND SHAKES JAY’S HAND. HE NOTICES JAY’S GUITAR CASE AND SAYS THAT HE LIKES MUSIC TOO. HE’S A BIT OF AN ED SHEERAN FAN BUT HE ALSO LIKES JUSTIN TIMBERLAKE. JAY LOOKS AROUND AT THE SPORTS MEMORABILIA IN JOSH’S ROOM, ASKING HIM IF HE’S ALSO A LEBRON FAN.

JOSH NODS, SAYING THAT HE’S PRACTICED FOR A WHILE NOW TO MASTER THE ART OF BASKETBALL. HE’S JUST GLAD HE FINALLY GETS A ROOMMATE. HE GOT HERE OVER THE SUMMER AND HAS HAD TO BE BY HIMSELF FOR A WHILE. JAY SETS HIS STUFF DOWN AND REMOVES HIS JACKET, REVEALING LARGE RED FEATHERED WINGS. JOSH GRINS AND TELLS JAY THAT THEY’RE GONNA HAVE A BLAST.

MEANWHILE, CLARICE ENTERS HER DORM, NOTICING A BLONDE GIRL SITTING ON THE BED CLOSEST TO THE WINDOW. THE GIRL INTRODUCES HERSELF AS LAURIE COLLINS, TELLING CLARICE THAT IT’S NICE TO HAVE A ROOMMATE. CLARICE NODS, SITTING DOWN ON THE EMPTY BED, ASKING LAURIE IF SHE’S BEEN HERE A WHILE. LAURIE SAYS THAT SHE’S MAINLY BEEN HERE OVER THE SUMMER, BUT IT’S BEEN HARD FITTING IN. SHE’S NOT SURE IF PEOPLE TRULY LIKE HER. CLARICE NODS, TELLING HER SHE KNOWS HOW IT FEELS. PEOPLE CAN BE SHIT SOMETIMES. LAURIE CHUCKLES AS CLARICE LAYS DOWN ON THE BED, LOOKING AT THE CEILING.

WE THEN CUT TO THE SCHOOL AS NIGHT BEGINS TO FALL. A SOFT, RELAXING SONG PLAYS AS THE CAMERA FOCUSES ON OUR MAIN CAST, GETTING TO SLEEP IN THEIR DORMS. WE ALSO FOCUS ON SOME OTHERS WHO MAY HAVE SOME AFFECT IN FUTURE EPISODES; A GOTH KID WRITING IN A NOTEBOOK, A GIRL WITH SKIN MADE OF PURPLE DIAMOND WHO IS LOOKING AT HERSELF IN THE MIRROR, MONET, WHO LOOKS OUT THE WINDOW, AND A CUTE PINK-HAIRED GIRL WITH RAINBOW BUTTERFLY WINGS.

WE THEN CUT OVER TO EMMA, LOOKING OUT THE WINDOW. SCOTT TELLS HER TO COME BACK TO BED, AND SHE SAYS THAT SHE WILL IN A BIT. SHE’S JUST REFLECTING. THIS IS A NEW YEAR WITH NEW OPPORTUNITIES. AND THESE STUDENTS HAVEN’T SEEN ANYTHING YET. SHE CONTINUES TO STARE OUT THE WINDOW AS THE MOON SHINES BRIGHTLY AND THE CAMERA FADES TO BLACK.

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

THE FIRST EPISODE IS UP! MAKE SURE TO COMMENT AND STAY TUNED FOR EPISODE 2!

[something-tofightfor]

Locked Down Part 3: The Cast

Pairing: Dieter Bravo x Female Reader

Word Count: 7,514

Rating: M. Language, mentions of COVID, some alcohol references, some sex talk / relationship talk, drug use

Summary: As the start of filming draws closer, you start getting to know more of the crew members - and one of the location scouts offers you an opportunity that you can’t refuse.

When you meet someone important to Dieter, does it make things better ... or worse? 

And how will you deal with the fact that the longer you spend in his proximity, the less able to deny your attraction to the man you become? 

Author’s note:

You are too kind to me. I’m so happy that you’ve all seemed to like this take on this man so far. With the new blurb we got today from Netflix, I know that I’m a little off with my characterization - but I’m going to keep things going down this path because I’ve already committed. So I guess this is a partial AU now. 

Catch up on parts 1 and 2! 

The day before the main cast was set to be released from isolation was a busy one for you. 

You spent the entire morning silently walking through the already built sets and rooms, documenting their appearance with both video and still images, capturing the calm before the storm. 

The green screen stage. The wardrobe rooms. Catering. Makeup and hair. Production. 

They were all empty and waiting for the arrival of the actors the following day, everything labeled and fully stocked, missing only the talent. You were thorough - making tons of notes and using your phone to record voice memos for reference, and as you sat at one of the tables in the dining hall eating your lunch, you began to organize things, figuring that it would save you time later. 

“Hey.” One of the location scouts called out your name, stopping on the other side of the table. “Guess what.” 

“Hmm?” Swallowing the final bite of your sandwich, you eyed him. “I have no -” “We’re getting out of here for a little while.” What? Food forgotten, you pushed to your feet. “They need you to do the same thing at the soundstage, too. That’s an entirely separate crew of people, so you need to take a rapid test before -” You were already looping your camera bag strap over your shoulder, lifting the remains of your lunch off of the table to toss into the trash. “It’s just a van ride into the city.” “I don’t care.” You were elated, the thought of sitting in a vehicle and driving away from the hotel for an hour or two more exciting than anything had been in weeks. “I get to see things. I get to hear new sounds, and -” The man laughed, closing his eyes. “I do need to go back to my room and grab a jacket, if that’s alright. Should probably get a spare battery, too.” Telling you to meet him in the lobby in fifteen minutes, the location scout stepped away from the table and you hurried to the elevator, heart hammering in your chest. 

The door to your room slammed behind you and you winced at the sound, letting your bag fall onto the mattress as you began to dig through the closet, searching for the jacket you hadn’t needed in weeks. As you moved, you were caught off guard by a loud knock on the wall - Dieter’s indication that he needed attention of some sort as quickly as possible. You knocked back - twice - and then made your way to the balcony, slipping the coat on as you moved.

“Everything ok? The door slammed.” He looked like he’d just woken up - his hair stood out from his head in a fluffy halo, his cheeks were covered in stubble and his outfit was what you would have called hobo chic; a pair of patterned pants and a threadbare t shirt in a color that straddled the line between purple and pink beneath the same green bathrobe he always wore. This man is worth millions of dollars and has two fucking Critics Choice Awards, a BAFTA and an Oscar, and he looks like he just rolled out of a frat house after a kegger. “Wait, why are you putting a coat on?” Dieter stepped closer, suddenly much more alert. “It’s warm here, and you’re done for the day.” Since when does he know my schedule? 

“I…” You tried to keep your expression even, not wanting to rub it in, but you couldn’t, lips spreading into a wide grin. “I get to leave, Dieter. I get to go to the main soundstage today, before any of you get there, because -” “Fucking unfair.” He groaned, smashing the heel of his hand against his face and rubbing his eye. “You gotta bag big enough to sneak me out with you?” 

“Maybe. But definitely not one big enough for that ego of yours to go, too.” He snorted at that, raising the middle finger on his free hand in a silent salute. “It’ll probably be really fast. And I have to take another test, plus wear a face shield and mask, so…” You were trying to downplay your excitement, but the truth was that you would have worn a full on Hazmat suit if it meant getting to leave the estate, even for a few minutes. “I’ll send you a picture from the car, if you want. What do you want to see? A bar? Restaurant? The set? 

“Surprise me.” He was watching you closely, a hint of a smile in his eyes. “I’m happy for you, though. You’ve been here a fuckton longer than I have, so this has to be big for you.” Assuring him that it was, you took a long breath, eyes flicking to the door. “Go. I’m sure you’re on a schedule. I have to start trying shit on, wardrobe dumped a whole ass crate of clothes on me today, and I need to make sure stuff fits.” 

“Gonna change out of that damn bathrobe for once, hmm?” He swore at you, shaking his head as he turned away, but instead of letting him go without saying anything else, you called after him. “Too bad I won’t be around to see it.” 

“Have a good time in civilization, asshole,” was all you heard before he pulled the door shut behind him once again, leaving you standing on the balcony with a smile on your face. 

It didn’t last long, though, as you realized that your fifteen minutes were close to being up - and it was time to go back to the lobby. And to freedom. Sort of. 

— 

You wouldn’t ever admit to anyone how close you’d come to crying the minute the hotel disappeared in the rearview mirror, the vehicle you were in turning down the road and toward the city center. The scout was the driver, and you were the only person in the shuttle - impractical, but necessary, according to the regulations. 

He didn’t speak much on the drive, instead turning the radio up and leaving you to stare out the window at the passing scenery, vowing to never again take traffic or a lengthy commute for granted. 

You’d been right about not needing to spend too much time in the large building, though. There were a few makeup and hair trailers in the parking lot, along with many of the same types of areas that were set up at the hotel. So you made quick work of them, sidestepping the final remaining set decorators and crew that were milling around, everyone in their PPE and focused on what they needed to do. 

You were thankful that you’d gotten out of the hotel, but you were also thankful that you’d gotten to know the layout of the soundstage before it was filled with people, because you’d never been on one as large before. It was still going to take some getting used to, but it wouldn’t be a shock the first time you stepped foot onto it during the actual shoot. It’ll help me get my job done. 

To your surprise, Dieter had sent over two different pictures while you were working, both of himself - but in different outfits. It’s his character wardrobe, you realized as you double tapped the first image to open it. He was wearing a red, puffy coat and a pair of dark jeans with hiking boots, one hand on his hip and the other holding his phone up. The other one was him in a plaid button up and a pair of khaki pants, the top fitting him well, the material’s pattern bringing out the color in his eyes. 

You typed back a reply, pointing out that the jacket was going to be perfect for the winter months, and then snapped a quick picture of the set, telling him that after being in the hotel’s rooms for so long, it felt like an arena. 

But neither of those messages were what you really wanted to say - that he looked good in both outfits, that it didn’t matter what he wore because he was always going to look great, that you couldn’t wait to see him in character and acting out the scenes he was assigned - or that it would have been more fun if he’d been there with you, making snide comments about the set decorations or the specific way that everything seemed to be meticulously organized only to go to shit the moment filming started. I’ve only known him for two weeks, and i’m not even sure we’re actually friends so that’s a no go. 

He didn’t reply, and so you tucked your phone back into your pocket, looking around for the man you’d driven over with so that you could let him know you were ready to leave. Unfortunately, you saw him through a window, the man deep in conversation in one of the production offices with an older woman. He’s going to be there a while. To pass the time, you wandered outside and into the courtyard, which was one of the approved areas on the map you’d been handed. 

What you found there stopped you in your tracks. 

You’d grown accustomed to the catering options in the hotel - gourmet style meals and snacks read and waiting at regular meal times, finger foods and buffet items while people were working. But the people here would need something too, and this … this is… Without thinking about it, you pulled your phone back out and started recording, pointing the camera at your face. “I just walked out into the courtyard, and I hit the jackpot.” Tapping on the screen, you flipped the focus around, the two trucks that were parked on the curb coming into view. “A coffee cart and a food truck. This is like I walked straight into the mall.” You flipped the camera again after zooming in on the menus and grinned. “Junk food here I come.” 

After hitting send - and making sure that the message went through - you stepped closer to the trucks, eyeing the menus and trying to convince yourself that you didn’t need to order one of everything. But before you could place your order, your phone rang, Dieter’s name on the screen. He’s gotta be so mad. You didn’t even have a chance to greet him properly after answering, and the man was speaking quickly into your ear, a plea in his voice. “I need coffee. Good coffee. And probably one of those crepes, too. And maybe a -” 

You’d never heard him sound so excited about anything, and it was all you could do to keep from laughing, a smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. “I’ll take pictures of the menus for you, how about that? And then you can tell me what to order. It’s a little bit of a drive back to the hotel, but -” “I don’t care. Get me an iced coffee then.” Assuring him that you would, you hung up quickly and snapped two pictures, sending them over. As you waited for his response, you inched closer, squinting your eyes as you contemplated your choices. 

“Do you take debit cards? I don’t have much cash on me, so -” “Everything’s included.” The girl at the coffee truck shrugged her shoulders, using one hand to adjust her mask. “We’re here for all of the crew, so as long as you’re working on the set - there’s no charge.” Oh, shit. 

“You’re going to get very used to seeing me, then.” You laughed again, eyes going back to the menu as your phone vibrated. “And I’m going to have kind of a large order right now, as long as that’s ok, because -” “Whatever you want.” The girl gestured with one hand. “That’s why we’re here.” Opening Dieter’s message, you scanned it and then turned your attention back to the employees, making your decision. 

“Ok, so this is going to be to go, and it’s going to be two orders. The first one is …” 

— 

You knocked on Dieter’s door with the toe of one boot, both of your hands too full to use anything else. It was risky - to tempt the quarantine protocol the night before he was to be released, but you’d had no other option, except setting everything on the balcony wall. But I would have had to put everything down on the floor to unlock my door first, so… The man cracked the door open, peering around the edge of it and when he saw that it was you, he flung it wide open, moving to step into the hall and toward you, both hands outstretched. “No, dont.” Though your voice was muffled by the mask you wore, you spoke clearly. “You’ve got less than 18 hours left, Dieter. Don’t risk it.” 

“But you’ve already had it, you can’t -” Stepping backwards again, you shook your head. 

“I’m not gonna be the thing that derails this production. Either you stay in that room, or I take all of this somewhere else and -” Dutifully, he took a half step backwards, both hands held out, palms toward you. “The one without the straw is yours.” Holding out the cardboard carrier, you waited until he took it from you, the man’s fingertips just out of reach as he curled them around the cup. “I put the straw into the bag with the crepe. And there’s plastic utensils and napkins in there, too.” 

“Is the burger in there? That’s what I can’t wait for, I’ve been thinking about it for the last hour and -” “It hasn’t even been an hour, Bravo. Relax.” The paper crinkled between your fingers as you stretched your arm out toward him again. “But it’s there, yes. Toppings exactly like you asked, fries extra crispy, but I requested that they leave it off the bun so it didn’t get soggy on the drive back, so there’s an extra container.” “That’s smart.” He was eyeing you carefully, surprise written all over his features. “I wouldn’t have thought of that.” “It’s a good thing I did.” Rattling the bag gently, the man blinked and returned his focus to you, taking that from your hands, too. But that time, his hand touched yours, fingers sliding along your knuckles for a brief moment as he grabbed for the bag. That’s not allowed.  “Hope you like it. The girl at the coffee place said that they’re gonna be there the whole shoot along with regular catering, so …” “What did you get?” He frowned. “That’s a small bag.” 

“It is.” You shrugged. “What’s the point if I can’t taste anything, you know?” His face fell even further, and you quickly continued, holding up your own cup. “I got a smoothie, and I can sort of taste that it’s tart, so that’s a step in the right direction.” “It’s pink. It shouldn’t be tart. I see a strawberry in there.” 

“Strawberries are tart sometimes,” you mumbled, but Dieter only rolled his eyes. “And I got a crepe too. Chocolate spread. It’s fine. I can pretend that I can taste it.” Dieter shook his head sadly, and you gestured to the door of your room. “I should go. This still feels risky. I don’t want someone to walk up here and think I’m -” 

“Thank you.” He swallowed hard, completely focused on you. “Sometimes you just need grease, you know? Can’t all be lean meat and vegetables.” 

“You’re very welcome. But if you don’t fit in your wardrobe, I had nothing to do with it.” He laughed at that, winking at you. “Have a good night, Dieter.” He replied with the same, and with your newly free hand, you unlocked your door, glancing over to see that he was still standing in his, watching you. “What?” He didn’t speak, which gave you a few seconds to look at him - taking in the man’s outfit, which was finally different - a pair of dark pajama pants and a gray t shirt, the thin fabric clinging to him in a way that the worn out one never had. Stop. Stop it. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” Pushing away from the door frame, he nodded once. “I hope you’re ready for the circus.” You didn’t know how to respond, so you didn’t - stepping into your room once he’d disappeared into his. What does that even mean? 

—

You had an earlier than usual call time, but the day was marked to be a short one - you only needed to be there to document part of the cast’s initial meeting, since the rest of their day would be spent getting to know each other, which you didn’t need to be present for. During that time, you’d be attending a class with the rest of the crew while it happened so that all of you could get on the same page when it came to set etiquette and expected COVID compliance protocols.  

Actual filming wouldn’t begin for another few days, the remainder of that first week being used for wardrobe fittings, table reads and makeup tests, and you were supposed to flit between trailers and actors while that happened. It almost seemed too easy, but you were hesitant to say it out loud, because you knew that the moment you did, everything would change. Like clockwork. That’s what always happens. 

Determined to enjoy the final night before the real work began you flopped onto your stomach on the bed, flipping through channels as you finished your smoothie - and then started on the crepe. Neither were quite tasteless, but the awareness of different flavors dissipated with every bite, and it discouraged you. What if it never comes back? What if I can never taste anything ever again? You thought back to the way that Dieter had given you his robe and told you to inhale only to smell nothing, the way you’d woken up the first morning and been unable to taste your orange juice or smell the grass beneath your balcony. That’d be miserable. I’d be miserable if this was permanent.

Convincing yourself that that wouldn’t be the case, you settled in on a rerun of one of your favorite sitcoms, finally letting your mind wander - and letting the reality of your situation sink in. I’m going to be working on a movie set for the next three months, and that whole time I’m going to share a wall with Dieter Bravo. 

You grinned at the thought, reaching over to pick up your phone. In the two weeks he’d been your neighbor, you’d learned a lot about him from the conversations you’d had, but also from looking up interviews and general information. A lot of it was rumors - scandals that had been barely covered up like secret trips to rehab - but there was a lot of truth there, too. 

What he did in his spare time was of no concern to you. You knew that his Hollywood lifestyle was likely much different than the one you led, and had no reason to judge him for it or any habits he’d developed throughout the years. But I just wonder what I’m in for when we can all move around this place freely… from him and the others.

As the only non-actor in the wing you were staying in, you figured that you’d hear and see your fair share of things during the shoot, which accounted for the NDAs that you’d had to sign, but that didn’t bother you, either. It’ll be fun. You had no allusions about the casual friendship you’d struck up with Dieter lasting post-isolation period. In fact, you figured that the longer things went on, the less you’d see him off set, despite being right next door. And that’s fine. I don’t expect anything else. 

You scrolled through the man’s social media for a few minutes, hitting like on the two newest pictures he’d posted (one a throwback of filming Hunger Strike and the other a shot from his balcony looking out at the grounds of the hotel) and then - out of morbid curiosity - going to his ex Mara’s page. She was dating someone new, it looked like, and she seemed happy, but with only a few minutes of research, you found that her new boyfriend was about to release an album with his band. Figures. 

No matter what the truth was - whether or not Dieter was truly egotistical or it was an act, or if the relationship had been casual on both ends or not, the emergence of the text messages on gossip websites out of nowhere had been less than he’d deserved. No one deserves that. You found them again quickly, feeling your anger grow as you read through the woman’s words on the screen. 

No. It’s not serious. Only staying with him if he wins this award. Been my plan the whole time, he’s fucking insufferable - and old. Need someone my own age.

You didn’t know how he’d managed it, or if he’d had anything to do with it, but Mara had been dropped from her next movie shortly afterward, and with that, lost out on any chance of working with two major studios for the foreseeable future. No matter what the truth was, Dieter had clout within the industry, and that meant that there were people that were loyal to him and had no reason to promote someone that had been disloyal to him in such a public way. He’s had a long enough career, so it makes sense. 

But what didn’t make sense was the man signing on for a role in a franchise like Cliff Beasts when he had no connection to any of the first movies or the other actors. That was something that you wanted to ask him about if you got the chance, and you wondered how candid he’d be with you when - and if - he answered. The TV still droning on in the background, you kept scrolling, getting lost in random websites and linked social media profiles. 

When you decided to take a break to stretch your fingers out, you realized that it was after midnight. Oh shit. Groaning and then setting the phone down to sit up on the bed, you raised your arms above your head to stretch your back, too. I need to go to sleep. I have to be up early, and … fuck. “I just spent three hours going down the Dieter Bravo rabbit hole and there’s no fucking reason…” Covering your face with both hands, you steadied yourself with a few deep breaths. 

There was a reason, though, even if you weren’t ready to admit it out loud. At that realization you climbed out of the bed and stepped toward the balcony, phone held in your hand. You weren’t expecting Dieter to be outside - instead, you were hoping that he wasn’t, because you were in no mood to talk to him. I let myself get too close, you admitted as you flipped through to your camera, backing up and against the railing so that the illuminated top of the building and some of the moonlit clouds were visible in the frame. Let him charm me, and now look at me … I’m scrolling through his Instagram at midnight like a fucking fangirl. 

But it being so late also worked in your favor, and so you pushed your thoughts of Dieter and the way you felt about that situation to the side, instead focusing on what you could see in front of you. It was tradition for you - the night before starting a new job, you always took and posted a picture of your next assignment as a record of the start date. Even though you’d technically already started work, the following day was the first real day of production on Cliff Beasts 6, which meant it was time to take the photo. No reason to break from the norm. As you typed out a caption for the picture, you rolled your neck from side to side, chewing on your lower lip. You couldn’t give anything away, and so you chose something simple; the words ‘day one’ and the video camera emoji - and then posted. 

You stood there for a few more minutes, eyes on the sky, and then took another deep breath, imagining the way that the cooling autumn air in the English countryside would smell. It’s just a job, and you’re going to have fun. Nodding to yourself, you headed back inside without looking anywhere but at your room. If you had, you would have seen Dieter standing on his own balcony, watching you with a lopsided smile on his face and both hands stuffed into the pockets of his bathrobe. 

— 

The next two days were a whirlwind, and you kept busy for far longer than you’d thought you would during each of them. The cast were cordial to you, especially after you were introduced by the production manager to the entire room, instructions given that while you weren’t going to interfere with the shoot, you had access to all of the public areas at all times - so they should get used to seeing you and at the same time, pretend you weren’t there for the most part. 

As you made it through the morning, you heard Dieter talking with various people, catching snippets of his conversations while you moved through the room. You weren’t honing in on him, but he was loud, the way he spoke much different than the man you’d talked to for the previous two weeks. 

You made it a point to spend a few minutes with each of the main cast on the first day, though. Carol and Krystal were overly cheerful, while Lauren was a little more laid back. Dustin, Howie and Sean were all nice, but you could tell that they were wary of you and what you’d be filming. That’s fine. I’ll make it work. 

It was vanity, and you knew it. They all wanted to be sure that when you captured them on camera, you got the best parts of them, but that was fine. They’ll try hard for a couple weeks and then relax. None of them will be able to keep appearances up for an entire shoot. 

You saved Dieter for last, not wanting to interrupt him while he talked to his new co-stars, and when it was his turn, the conversation you got shocked you - as did the way it was delivered. “So it’s day one of the pandemic shoot, Mr. Bravo.” He had his arms crossed over his chest, head cocked to one side. “What are you hoping for from this whole experience?” 

“I’m hoping that I don’t have to work too hard.” He grinned, pushing the glasses up on his nose. “I’m hoping that I get along with the cast, even though I’ve never worked with any of ‘em before.” He leaned in, raising an eyebrow. “I’m also hoping that I can have some fun while I’m here now that I’m not trapped in my room anymore.” He used one hand to gesture around, lifting his shoulders in an exaggerated shrug. “We’ll see. My hopes aren’t that high. But it should be a good time” 

You talked for a few more minutes, and you were stunned that Dieter somehow managed to say nothing throughout the whole thing, the man cutting the interview short when Carol and Dustin walked by, the redhead calling out to him while waving him over. Dieter yelled back that he’d be there in a minute, thumbing in your direction as an explanation. Ouch. As you put the camera down, Dieter said your name softly, drawing your attention. 

You watched the expression on his face changing, the mask slipping slightly for a few moments, and then he spoke again, the words so quiet that you almost didn’t hear them. “You’re doing great. I’m sorry.” Before you could reply, though, he’d turned away from you, chasing after the other two and immediately launching into conversation with Dustin, his hands gesturing wildly. What the fuck was that about? 

You didn’t see him that night, even though you heard him get back to his room at around midnight, his door slamming shut and startling you from the short stack of papers you were leafing through as you typed notes into your computer. If he went outside, he didn’t make any noise, and by the time you were ready to lay down, he had his TV turned up, the sound carrying to your ears both through the wall and the slight opening in your balcony doors. 

You ate breakfast in catering the following morning, wanting to be done before most of the cast and crew were in for the day, but just as you were getting up, Krystal walked in, phone in hand. She beelined it to you, a mask hanging over one ear, and even though you scrambled to put yours back on before she was too close, she waved you off. ‘No. We’re all fine. I just wanted to ask you a favor.” A favor? I don’t even know you. But you nodded, waiting to see what she’d ask. “Um, I’m pretty big on Tik Tok, so I’m always trying to find good stuff to film, right?” 

“Yeah, that’s what I’ve heard.” She grinned, tucking her hair behind her ear. 

“Well if you get anything good of me, like when I’m on set or if I’m in the makeup trailer, can you let me know? I’m not really allowed to post much now, but it might be good for later, when we promote. And I thought -”

“I’m not using my phone to record on set.” You gestured to the camera bag that was on the table. “And all of the BTS stuff is supposed to be turned over to the people that will edit it down for the documentary.” She frowned. “But, yes. I watch things at night, just skimming, and if I find anything that I think would work, I can send it over, especially if it’s just a few seconds long.” 

“Thank you!” She beamed at you, raising her eyebrows. “You probably think it’s really stupid but without my account I wouldn’t even be here now, and I just … gotta stay on brand, right?” Right. She thanked you again and then turned to walk toward the tables where the food was, typing furiously on her phone again. Speaking of staying on brand… 

Dieter was walking into the dining room, a mask covering his mouth and nose as he spoke to a young woman wearing a face shield. You hadn’t ever seen her before, and figured that she was likely the assistant he’d mentioned, the man finally able to talk to her in person after two weeks. His eyes scanned the room and though they landed on you, he made no indication that he’d seen you, instead touching the woman’s arm and pointing at the food before pointing at his watch and then his body. 

She gave him a good-natured smile and then the two of them turned away from you and toward the food, loading their plates. Finished with your own meal, you cleaned your place and then headed out of the dining room, trying to decide where the first location was that you’d shoot for the day. The wardrobe rooms were the obvious choice, and so you turned down one hallway, following signs. 

It was an interesting process - watching the crew attempt to do their jobs while maintaining distance, and you lost count of the number of times one of the women tried to stick pins between her lips for safekeeping while she hemmed pants for Dustin and the sleeves of a shirt for Lauren. 

The same was true in the hair and makeup areas, which were set up in one of the smaller ballrooms, separated with curtains between each station for more privacy and social distancing convenience. Things were less frantic there, even though there were more people - the stylists themselves and assistants, the cast filing in and out as it was their turn, people sticking Polaroid photos into binders and others in the corners of mirror frames for future reference. 

You missed Dieter in both locations, deciding to go back onto the actual set and see what was going on there - and that’s where you found him, sitting at a small circular table with the same woman from earlier, his mask pushed down around his chin as he sipped on a cup of coffee. That time, he called your name, waving you over. 

Shouldering your camera, you made your way  to the table, checking to ensure that your mask was in place. “Hey, Mr -” “Dieter. Come on. You’ve been my next door neighbor for two weeks. We’re on a first name basis.” He raised an eyebrow, taking another sip. “Wanted you to meet my assistant, Jenna. You’re probably going to hear a lot of her coming in and out of my room.” You didn’t know how to take that - and the way he said it didn’t help matters, but you said hello and introduced yourself, the woman giving you a wide smile and raising her hand in a wave.

“It’s not like I’m monitoring your life, Dieter. I don’t keep track of what you’re doing in your room 24/7.” The woman snorted quietly, her eyes back on her phone. “But I’ll keep that in mind.”  He opened his mouth to say something but was interrupted as another member of the crew stepped behind you, saying his name. 

“One of the hotel employees has a message for you Mr. Bravo. I told her you were busy, but she said it was urgent.” You stepped to the side, Dieter’s attention going from you and  to the people behind you - a younger man and the blonde from the front desk. Anika. 

“Yeah?” He reached up, thumb and forefinger gripping his earlobe. “It’s fine, I’m just sitting here.” The blonde stepped closer, hands clasped together in front of her body. You watched as he eyed her, waiting. 

“There was a delivery for you, Mr. Bravo. The courier that dropped it off said that it was urgent, and that it needed to be taken to your room right away. But you requested that we not clean your room today, and I didn’t know if -” His eyes lit up, the man breaking into a wide grin as he flattened his palms on the table. 

“Yeah, definitely. Put it in my room. I’ve been waiting for it. You’re a fuckin’ livesaver, Anika” His  eyes flicked over to you and then back to Anika, who was smiling broadly, her cheeks flushed from the slight bit of praise. “I -” “We need to go, Dieter.” His assistant tucked her phone away, giving the man a pointed look. “You’re up in a couple minutes, and we know how slow your ass is when you don’t want to do something.” Stifling a laugh at that by turning it into a cough, you took another step back. Well at least his assistant knows how to handle him well. As they both stood, you noticed a definite change in Dieter’s mood - the man notably happier, thanking the blonde again before heading toward the doorway. “Hey.” Jenna turned to look at you, warmth in her eyes. “Don’t let him fool you. He’s not really -” “Jenna!” Dieter was waiting with one hand on the door handle, his other hand on his hip. “We’ve gotta go!” The woman laughed, rolling her eyes. 

“And to think my husband was worried about me taking this job because he thought Dieter was gonna be an asshole… or try to hit on me.” You laughed with her and then watched as the two of them disappeared, leaving you with Anika and the other crew member. 

But they didn’t stick around long, and once they were gone, you decided to leave too, after scanning the room for anything that looked like it would make good media. There’s no one in here. Nothing to see. 

Your day ended soon after that, and after dropping your stuff off in your room and changing clothes, you decided to take a walk around the grounds to decompress. There were few people around, meaning that everything was quiet, and the end of your walk led you back to the area beneath your balcony, retracing the steps that Colin and the other groundskeepers took. “You look cold.” Eyes moving upward, you saw Dieter leaning against his railing, staring down at you. “Should have worn a better coat.” 

“I should have.” You agreed, squinting up at him in the fading light. “You’re dressed up.” It was true - he was in a light colored button down shirt, though the top few were undone, his hair messy bust somehow less messy than usual, and he wasn’t wearing his glasses. 

“Cast dinner tonight. The official ice breaker.” He rolled his eyes. “Good excuse to drink some expensive wine and relax.” Ah. That makes sense. “Are you supposed to come and film?” 

“I don’t know.” Shrugging up at him you wet your lips. “No one ever -” “You should.” He nodded, checking his watch. “If you come up now you can get your stuff.” “Dieter, I’m not cast. This isn’t -” “You don’t need to stay, but don’t you think that getting all of us in the same room at the same time is necessary?” Yeah, probably, but … “And I’m inviting you.” He was right - it would be good footage, and you could frame it as a comparison between the beginning of the shoot and the end. He’s smart. 

“Yeah. Alright. That’s a good idea.” Dieter smiled again, still leaning over to look at you, but he didn’t say anything else. “See you in a few minutes.” 

— 

A little more than an hour later, you were back in your room, sitting on the edge of your bed with your camera next to you. You’d kept it together during the time you were in the opulent dining room with the cast, but as soon as you’d closed the door to your room behind you, you’d lost it, the tears rolling down your cheeks. 

Some of the cast had been happy to have you there from the beginning, but it had taken some convincing from Dieter on the part of the others, the man waving off your presence as a necessary thing - and framing it in a way that made your nose wrinkle in disgust. 

“Come on, guys. If she films this, it’s a good way to show the people that watch it that from the beginning we were on board with all of this.” He’d waved his hands around, rolling his eyes. “We’re like one big fuckin’ family already or some shit.” The man paused, lifting a wine glass to hs lips and taking a long drink. “Control the narrative, am I right?” 

Lauren was the first to speak, rolling her eyes hard. “Bravo’s got a point. They’ll see what we want them to see. And you know what that is?” Carol leaned back in her chair, propping her head up with one hand. 

“Us being fake as fuck?” Everyone laughed at that, but you felt eyes on you, almost like people were waiting to see what you said in reply. “Us pretending like we aren’t already over this? Like this isn’t weird as shit? What if she says something?”

“She signed a couple NDAs, actually.” Dustin drained his wine glass, the man’s eyes boring into you. “So she can’t.” 

“Exactly!” Dieter gestured again, nudging you with his elbow. “Just make us look good,  make sure everyone fucking loves us and that’s all that matters.” 

The rest of the time you’d been in the room with them - only about twenty minutes - had been rough, every single one of them plastering fake smiles on their faces, their words and actions exaggerated as they pretended like they’d known each other for years. As their meal started to arrive, you decided it was time to go, thanking them for letting you spend a couple of minutes with all of them, and then you’d disappeared back into the hallway, hurrying past the two concierge employees at the bar in the back corner of the room and heading straight for your bedroom. 

You’d expected it - all of them to be fake to an extent, but you hadn’t known just how much they’d turn it on for the cameras, how easy it would be for them to craft personas for themselves to suit their own needs and egos. Bet it isn’t at all hard for Dieter since he’s been doing this for years. The footage was good - but it wasn’t real, and if it was any indication, you were in for a long few months. Or at least until they decide it’s not important to focus on that type of behavior anymore. 

Wiping the tears from your face, you stood up and went into the bathroom, deciding that a long, hot shower was your best option for a distraction. 

— 

It had helped. You felt much better after exiting the small, steamy room, getting dressed in your pajamas and pulling on a bathrobe of your own - one provided by the hotel. Instead of watching TV, you flipped through the pages of a book, with the breeze from outside blowing in through the open doors. It didn’t take long for you to get lost in the story, eyes scanning the pages as you devoured the content. 

A loud, harsh cough startled you some time later, your eyes going to the balcony. What;s going on? When it came again a few moments later you sat up, putting the book down and heading outside. “Dieter? You alright?” 

He was sitting in one of the chairs on his side of the wall, but he’d dragged it closer to the railing so that he could lean back, propping his feet up. “I’m fine.” He coughed again, though, turning his head to look at you - and for the first time, you realized that he was holding a joint in one hand, pinched between his fingers. “Figured you’d be out here sooner, this shit smells -” “Still can’t smell, remember?” You tapped your nose before wrinkling it. “And maybe that’s a good thing, because -” 

“Well then I’m glad you heard me cough.” He raised it to his lips and inhaled, closing his eyes. “Gettin’ kind of lonely out here.” You had no idea what time it was - or how long he’d been outside, but based on what he was wearing, you didn’t think it had been long. He’d be cold otherwise. The man was still dressed in what he’d had on for dinner, though his feet were bare and there was another button undone, exposing more of his chest. “Been two weeks since I’ve had anything to smoke, and the shit over here doesn’t fuck around.”

“How’d you get that in here?” Pulling the robe tighter over your body, you crossed your arms. “And -” “That delivery from earlier.” He grinned, coughing quietly. “That’s why I got so fuckin’ excited. Sean knows someone here, and he hooked me… well, a lot of us, up with some stuff.” Makes sense. ��Been looking forward to it all goddamn day.” He was doing it again - drawing you back in and showing you what you were almost positive was the real Dieter Bravo. But why only behind closed doors? “D’you wanna smoke?” He held the joint out to you and then swore, pulling it back. “No, you can’t. Stupid to ask because we can’t share it, since that’d be like kissing each other and that’s not allowed.” No, it’s not allowed, but I wish it was. 

He rolled his eyes as he spoke, taking another short hit and immediately releasing it. Your heart was pounding as you tried to decide whether or not you were going to respond. Do I need to? He already answered the question for himself, so… You didn’t smoke often - but you’d done so in the past, both with friends at home and while on assignment, partaking in the local offerings when the opportunity came up. I don’t know what my lungs would do with it now, especially after being sick. But the fact that he’d even offered spoke volumes to you, because he hadn’t needed to. 

“Well?” Dieter wet his lips, eyes on your face. “I can roll you a separate one if you want. Be our little secret.” 

“I…” Covering your face with one hand, you thought about it. Fuck it. “Yeah. Why not?” You grinned at him, lowering your hand. “Not everyday that Dieter Bravo asks me to smoke with him, so… sure.” The man was on his feet almost as soon as you replied, carefully putting out his joint on the railing before tucking the remnants behind his ear. 

“Give me five minutes.” He winked and then walked away from you, heading back into his room without bothering to close the door behind him. I’m definitely going to see and hear some things during this shoot. 

—

[bunny-lou]

Canon divergence: the Grabber went to Finney right after Bruce, he thought they were alone when he did but Robin is actually just around the corner of the street going to meet Finn. The Grabber managed to put an unconscious Finney in the van but Robin saw the whole thing. Robin, panicking, didn't thought to call out for help and instead rushed to take on The Grabber. The Grabber being an adult managed to knock out Robin. So now The Grabber has two boys at the same time. Do you think he proceeds as usual? Does he separate the boys somehow? Does he just kill one of them right away to avoid having to take care of two boys at the same time? Or does he just skip the whole game, kill them both and start over?

I know which option I'd love to happen, but I feel like of all the writers in the fandom so far you're one of the ones to get The Grabber's character really well and I'm curious what you think he'll end up doing.

Warnings for a discussion of a film/short story called The Black Phone, which deals with a young boy being abducted and abused by a much older man. This response discusses the abuse toward the young boy.

Okay so I've thought of a similar situation that I thought of writing, but honestly I don't want to do two heavy, dark fics back to back.

But the idea that the Grabber takes Robin and keeps him for a while, then decides his boy is bored and needs and friend and plus the only thing better than a naughty boy in the basement is two naughty boys in the basement! So he sets off for a second boy and comes across Finney, taking him as well and placing him in the basement with Robin. The Grabber has two boys to play out his horrible fantasies and becomes even worse, not only torturing the boys, but using them to torture each other, especially when he realizes they are friends and care for each other.

The Grabber tells Robin what to do and if he disobeys, Finney is getting the belt.

The Grabber has Finney come upstairs and tell him if he's not on his best behavior, Robin won't get food for two days.

Even worse, the Grabber has the two boys touch each other while he watches. He has them put on shows for him. He can visually live out anything he wants with the two of them at his mercy.

But, in your ask, the Grabber doesn't plan on taking Robin, so he's not prepared for two boys. We see in the film that he becomes very stressed when his plans do not go as he wants (Max coming to stay with him, Finney not playing Naughty Boy, etc.) and he acts out. Having two boys at once is going to be very stressful for him.

But I don't think he kills them right away.

We learn from Griffin that the Grabber has a schedule to follow: he has to play Naughty Boy before he can move on to 'his favorite part' and after that, he kills the boys. Finney asks Griffin 'why hasn't he killed me yet' and Griffin tells him it's because he won't play the game. The Grabber has to go in order.

He won't have a way to keep the boys separate, as there is only one basement. But he also knows two heads are better than one and having to watch two boys is more difficult than having to watch one.

My idea is that he has those magician handcuffs and keeps the boys bound at least most of the time, if not all of the time. This way, they can't untie each other or do too much damage to him if they want to fight back.

Maybe he makes it into a competition - whoever is the better boy can have use of their hands for a little bit. Honestly, Finney would probably be the 'better boy' in comparison to Robin who is hotheaded and ready to fight. While I don't think it would happen between Finney and Robin, the Grabber is hoping that the boys turn on each other and try to sabotage one another.

But as he leaves one without handcuffs, he'll do the normal things for them, like leaving the door opened. The boy without handcuffs tries to escape, just to be beaten and then being bound and the boy who didn't try to escape is rewarded by having the handcuffs taken off. Or, if they both try to escape, the Grabber beats them both, one of the boys unable to defend himself at all.

So long story short, if the Grabber plans on taking two boys, it's because he's prepared to put them both through a whole new level of torture for his entertainment. If he does not plan on taking two boys and it happens on accident, he keeps at least one of them bound so that they don't overpower him or escape.

[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.

[seokiie]

𝙸𝚜 𝚃𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝙰𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚎𝚍?

+ 𝘚𝘶𝘮𝘮𝘢𝘳𝘺: 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘉𝘛𝘚 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘣𝘦 𝘧𝘪𝘭𝘮𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘢𝘵 𝘺𝘰𝘶𝘳 𝘤𝘰𝘧𝘧𝘦𝘦 𝘴𝘩𝘰𝘱 𝘵𝘰𝘥𝘢𝘺? 𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘸𝘦𝘳𝘦 𝘺𝘰𝘶 𝘴𝘶𝘱𝘱𝘰𝘴𝘦𝘥 𝘵𝘰 𝘬𝘯𝘰𝘸 𝘢 𝘤𝘦𝘳𝘵𝘢𝘪𝘯 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘺-𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘦𝘥 𝘣𝘰𝘺 𝘸𝘰𝘶𝘭𝘥 𝘵𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘢 𝘭𝘪𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘵𝘰 𝘺𝘰𝘶?

+𝘞𝘰𝘳𝘥 𝘤𝘰𝘶𝘯𝘵: 4.8𝘬

+ 𝘗𝘢𝘪𝘳𝘪𝘯𝘨: 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨/𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘥𝘦𝘳

+ 𝘞𝘢𝘳𝘯𝘪𝘯𝘨𝘴: 𝘴𝘦𝘮𝘪-𝘱𝘶𝘣𝘭𝘪𝘤 𝘴𝘦𝘹, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘩𝘢𝘴 𝘢𝘯 𝘰𝘱𝘱𝘢 𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘬, 𝘧𝘢𝘤𝘪𝘢𝘭, 𝘴𝘦𝘹𝘶𝘢𝘭 𝘵𝘦𝘯𝘴𝘪𝘰𝘯, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘸𝘪𝘵𝘩 𝘤𝘶𝘳𝘭𝘺 𝘩𝘢𝘪𝘳, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩𝘺𝘶𝘯𝘨 𝘪𝘴𝘯'𝘵 𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘱𝘭𝘦𝘵𝘦𝘭𝘺 𝘧𝘭𝘶𝘦𝘯𝘵 𝘪𝘯 𝘌𝘯𝘨𝘭𝘪𝘴𝘩, 𝘛𝘢𝘦𝘩���𝘶𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘥𝘪𝘤𝘬 𝘪𝘴 𝘴𝘰 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘪𝘨 𝘨𝘶𝘺𝘴 𝘐 𝘤𝘢𝘯𝘯𝘰𝘵 𝘴𝘵𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘦𝘯𝘰𝘶𝘨𝘩!!!, 𝘺𝘰𝘶'𝘳𝘦 𝘢 𝘧𝘢𝘯

On AO3 || part two

Okay.

Okay. You're okay. You'll be fine. You take a deep breath.

Today was like any other day. You'd just gotten out of your last class of the day and you were heading to work. You were a simple college student (as were most of your coworkers) and the barista job you had at the little cafe right off campus was your only source of income. It paid surprisingly well so you never complained.

The last thing you were expecting when you open the glass doors of the coffee shop is to see a camera crew setting up lights and cameras and-

Is that fucking BTS?

Your eyes grow wide and you have to blink a few times to make sure it's real.

"Hey, y/n, what are you staring... at..." The familiar chime of someone else entering the shop snaps you out of your daze. When you turn around, you meet another pair of shocked eyes. They belong to your close friend, who also worked as a barista.

"Are you fucking seeing what I'm seeing right now..?" Your friend points a shaky finger to the seven handsome Korean men talking to the director. You quickly grab her arm and pull it down to her side when you notice one of the men, with curly hair and particularly dark eyes look over to the two of you. You offer an awkward smile and he simply turns back to focus his attention back on the director.

"Fuck, fuck. He looked at us. He saw you pointing." You whisper yell at your friend before grabbing her hand and dragging her behind the counter and into the back room. It was the only safe place left in the entire cafe that wasn't crowded with security and staff.

"Did our manager say anything about a worldwide boy group showing up to our tiny little urban cafe? Because I sure as hell don't remember it." Your friend paces around the small area of the backroom. The place was jammed with unopened packs of coffee beans and various cardboard boxes.

"No. No, I don’t think he did. Do you think we were supposed to come in for work today? What if they kick us out?" You open the door slightly, peering out into the open area of the coffee shop. It looked like the camera crew finally finished setting up and everyone was getting into their positions. "Ah, they're starting."

Now it’s your friend’s turn to grab your hand. Her nails practically dig into your wrist as she drags you out the room and towards where the camera crew is set up. No one seems to pay you two much attention as they're too focused making sure they had the right angles.

"Look, we can see everything from here without getting in the way." The municipal cafe you worked at was wide and open meaning there was lots of rooms for the hand-carved dark oak tables and big comfortable armchairs that littered the area. Your friend effectively pushes you down into one of the chairs before taking a seat across from you. She was right, you could see everything from here. And you were just out of frame.

The recording starts with the Bangtan boys saying something familiar in Korean and the director explaining... something in Korean. Suddenly, you're wishing you had English subtitles in real life.

It doesn't occur to you until various well-known tools and ingredients are placed in front of the seven guys that they're filming a run BTS episode. You probably should've figured that out sooner. As your eyes skim over the numerous appliances, you also figured out what they're doing. They're learning how to make professional handmade coffee. You guess it's safer than letting them use the bigger machines.

As the recording progresses, you find yourself laughing at how bad they are at following directions. You'd think seven guys who were skilled at learning and mastering choreography could follow basic instructions about using a Moka pot. Boy, were you wrong.

But surprisingly enough, one of them is doing pretty damn good. Actually, he's doing really fucking good!

It's Taehyung, you recognize immediately.

Your eyes follow the curly-haired man’s movements closely. His hands are working expertly against the coffee bean grinder. It's mesmerizing and oh, so satisfying watching the way the veins in his hands and arms bulge as he pushes the top of the grinder down to activate the machine. You bite your lip as your brain slowly flooded with images of those hands around your neck or the way his big hands would cover the expanse of your thighs. Have you always had a hand kink? If not, you do now.

Your eyes drift upward, stopping briefly to admire how sexy he looks in an apron. He's wearing a white button-down shirt underneath it with about four buttons undone. The sliver of skin showing has you reeling.

And then your eyes stop at his face. That beautiful jawline, the perfect curl of his hair, and that dark, hooded look in his eyes. If you didn't know any better, you'd think he was looking at... at...

Holy shit, he was looking at you.

You watch as a smirk forms on his face. He'd obviously caught you eyeing him up and at the moment, he was absolutely eating up the way you shifted under his inculpative glare. You nervously look around as if saying, 'you're looking at me? Are you sure?' and he lets out a little laugh in response, his wicked smirk turning into a genuine smile before his focus is back on his coffee beans.

You let out a breathless sound.

Is this what people call a 'y/n moment'?

The recording continues for the next hour as they tried different methods of making coffee. You alternated between watching the show and talking to your friend but throughout that time, you kept feeling a pair of eyes on you, especially when your attention shifted to your friend in front of you. As she talks about how annoying some guy in her psychology class is, you can practically feel Taehyung’s eyes boring through the side of your head and into your soul.

Maybe you just thought he was looking at you. You were such an ordinary person. What would Taehyung- rich, sexy, famous, talented Taehyung want with a boring girl like you?

But you still wanted to test it. You wanted to see if he was really looking at you. If he was staring at you so intently, it had to mean something right?

You look around you to make sure you're not in the line of sight of any cameras before standing up, your friend stops her story to ask where you're going.

"Not going anywhere..." You stand beside your chair and adjust your skirt that had ridden up from you sitting down. "I just wanna stretch real quick."

Taehyung watched as you stood up, his eyes were drawn to the insane amount of thigh you were showing. If your skirt had ridden up any higher, he's sure he'd get a good look at something he's not supposed to see. His grip on the table in front of him tightens at the thought and he's lucky no one notices the way his knuckles turn white.

In your opinion, your outfit wasn't anything special. It was a simple red crop top paired with a black pencil skirt that hugged your waist and hips nicely. Now that you were standing up, Taehyung could get a good look at your body.

You raise your arms up slightly so your hands were behind your head. The action inadvertently brings your crop top up higher and pulls it tighter against your chest. You weren't completely sure if Taehyung was still watching, but to top it all off you tilt your head back slowly, letting your face twist into one of pleasure as you show off how amazing it feels to stretch your body.

When you open your eyes and look back towards Taehyung, you almost stumble back into your chair. To be completely honest, you didn't think he'd have any sort of reaction but you were greatly mistaken.

His lips were wet and parted slightly as if he'd just licked them and his eyes were iniquitous and clouded with lust. He was looking at you as if the only thing stopping him from taking you apart was the bright flashing red light on the cameras.

His stare has you stumbling back into your seat, your eyes not leaving his for a second. It feels like you're locked in place, like you're not allowed to look away until he orders you to.

"You're so extra." Your friend’s voice is kind of distant and quiet but it's all you need to snap out of the weird limbo between you and Taehyung.

"Huh?"

"I said you're extra. You stretched and made it look like you were having the best orgasm of your life." She laughs and you roll your eyes in response. When you look back at Taehyung, he's conversing with his bandmates like nothing even happened.

The filming finishes up rather quickly. The time you don't spend gushing at the seven men, you spend quietly squealing with your coworker friend. It feels as if it's over as quickly as it started, though, and as the camera crew starts to load their things into their vans, your manager instructs you to get to your station. He tells your coworker to focus on opening the shop once everyone leaves and she walks away with an "ai ai, cap'n".

The weird ordeal with Taehyung completely slips your mind as you walk behind the counter and put your apron on. First, you had to check to make sure all the machines were working and then you could-

"Hey."

The voice is deep and very familiar.

Fuck.

"Hi! I mean, hi." Your brain is a jumbled mess as you turn around and you're greeted by a tall, handsome man on the other side of the counter. Taehyung approached you. Taehyung is talking to you. Breathe.

"You're, uhh..." You watch expectantly as the man searches for the words. Somehow, his thinking face makes you feel a little less intimidated. "You're a coffee woman. You make... coffee here." He concludes and at first, you're a bit confused until you figure out what he's trying to say. You let out a little laugh.

"Yeah, I work here. I'm a barista." Taehyung tilts his head at your words.

"Barista... Ah, sorry, my English. It's not good." He rubs the back of his neck sheepishly and your heart practically swells in your chest. He's so cute, oh god. He's so cute and hot at the same time.

"No, no! It's okay!" You raise your hands up in a calming motion before silence falls between you two. You're first to speak up.

"Should we- can I- do you want me to make you something?" You mentally slap yourself for your stutter. Taehyung finds it endearing.

"Make me coffee?" Taehyung asks to make sure he understood you correctly. You nod in response. "You can make Americano?"

"Yeah, I can make you an Americano!" You turn to load the right beans into the grinder but a quick 'jamkkanman!' stops you in your tracks. That’s a Korean word you understand. You look back at him and raise your eyebrows.

"I want to watch, uhh, I want to learn how to do it. Not-Korean style." His smile is nervous, worried if he said the right thing. Without much thought, you usher him behind the counter. You weren't allowed to let customers behind the counter but you're sure the higher-ups would let you make an exception.

"Ok, I'll show you. First, you have to measure the beans." You say simply as you pour a couple of grams of coffee beans on the scale. As your adding and reducing the beans to get the right amount, you're starting to become hyperaware of the man standing behind you. You left space for him to stand at your side but he still chose to stand directly behind you. It was getting hard to concentrate when you could feel the heat radiating off his body.

"Those are too many beans, you know? This is how America does it?" Alarms start going off in your head as he steps closer (if that was even possible). His chest was pressed flush against your back now as he peered over your shoulder.

"N-no, uh... I put too many..." You try to take out some of the coffee beans and put them back in the bag but all you can focus on is the way Taehyung's hands casually find themselves on your hips. Ok, it was certain now. He was doing this on purpose.

"Hmm, too little now. I think maybe..." His voice drops to a whisper and his lips are pressed against the shell of your ear. You bite your lip to suppress a moan threatening to crawl out your throat. "... Maybe you're distracted."

"I'm not... fuck." The bag of beans slip out your hands and fall onto the scale when Taehyung pulls your hips back against his. There's something heavy pressing against you, something that you would only compare to a log.

"Mm, pretty girl with a dirty mouth." He growls and rocks your hips slowly against his, pulling you against him in slow, teasing motions. Your body is starting to heat up and you're not sure if its because Taehyung is essentially fucking you through layers of your clothes or because of his subtle compliment.

"Is there... eunmilhan place?" Taehyung's grip on your hips loosens and you turn around to give him a confused look.

"Place where there's no one?" His eyebrow raises and your eyes light up. He was asking for a more secluded area. You knew just the place.

Very few people had a key to the backroom which made it the perfect place to hide away with the idol. Speaking of which, you're about to fuck an idol. Not just any idol but Kim Taehyung. Maybe that fact hasn't hit you yet. You wonder if he'll make you sign an NDA after.

You flick the light on in the small room before locking the door. The last thing you need is for a coworker to walk in. That would be especially bad.

As soon as you slip the keys into the pocket of your apron, Taehyungs hands are gripping both your wrists and bringing them above your head, effectively slamming you back against the door in the process.

"Taehyung-" Your head tilts back against the door when the curly-haired man presses his thigh between your legs. You were so pent up and touch starved. You were just thankful he was giving you something, anything.

"Hey, you know, in Korea... younger girl has to call older guy oppa. It shows respect." The pressure Taehyung is putting on your clit has you soaking through your panties and your brain struggling to keep up with his words.

"More, ah, please!" With Taehyung holding your wrists above your head and his knee between your leg, you're practically trapped against the door. It makes rubbing against him futile.

"Aishh, such a bad girl. So disobedience. Maybe I shouldn't touch you..." Your eyes shoot open at those words. Not only did you and Taehyung have so little time but the thought of him leaving you unfinished was simply unacceptable.

"Taehyung, please, please!" You whine into the crook of his neck but he doesn't let up. What more does he want from you?

"Call me oppa." Taehyung’s fingers twist themselves into the hair at the back of your head, pulling you back so you were looking straight into his half-lidded, lust-filled eyes. You open your mouth and close it in response.

You weren't completely sure if he was being serious but the way his lips parted, his eyes dropping down to your mouth and staring at them expectantly, it was hard to believe he was joking.

You licked your dry lips and sure enough, Taehyung follows the movement.

"O-oppa?" You feel a bit awkward saying the word seriously, your accent, or lack thereof making you feel self-conscious.

"So cute and shy. Weren't you teasing me so confident earlier?" Taehyung smirks as he kisses down your jaw and you subconsciously let your head tilt to the side, inviting his pretty lips to your neck. "Tell oppa what you want."

"I want you- I want oppas fingers inside me... please?" A growl leaves Taehyungs throat at your words and he says something in Korean that you couldn't quite catch. Almost immediately, he's using both his hands to grab the back of your thighs, lifting you up easily. Your legs instinctively wrap around his waist and your arms around his neck. The way he has you pressed back against the door makes holding you up effortless and comfortable.

Taehyung slides your pencil skirt up till it bunches up at your waist and your soaked panties are exposed. He makes a sound of approval.

"You're so wet already, shibal. I want to eat it so bad but no time. Open." Two of Taehyungs fingers are prodding at your lips before you part them slightly and he's sliding them in. Your tongue works deftly around the digits and Taehyungs eyes don't leave yours for a second.

It all happens so quickly, Taehyung pushing your panties to the side in one easy motion, then a pair of spit-soaked fingers slipping into you with ease. You let out a moan of pleasure and a bit of surprise when the two fingers curl inside you. After easily finding your g-spot, Taehyung doesn't hold back. He fucks his fingers into you with quick, sharp motions, scissoring them in an attempt to stretch you out even farther. Lord knows you'll need it.

"Ah, Fuck, Taehyung..." As soon as the needy whines leave your mouth, Taehyung is pulling his fingers out of you with a wet foop. He licks the fingers soaked with your juices, a look of satisfaction on his face before he shakes his head.

"Ah ah, what did I say to call me?" He raises an eyebrow expectantly, his thumb coming up to swipe across your lips in a slow, carnal manner that has a spark of something igniting low in your belly.

"Oppa... oppa, sorry! Please fuck me." Taehyungs thumb drops down to your lower lip, pushing it down slightly so they were parted before pressing a starved kiss to your lips. You let out a mix between a sigh and a moan, relieved to finally have his lips on yours. His tongue works expertly in your mouth and you can't help but whimper, the sound muffled by his lips.

"God, you're sexy when you beg. I can't wait anymore. Can I put it inside you?" Taehyung's hand grips your chin and tilts your head up just a bit so you were looking into his eyes again. His eyes sparkled with something, if you didn't know any better you'd think it was desperation.

You nod your head quickly. At this point, Taehyungs cock felt like your life force and without it you might die.

Taehyung lets you palm at the very defined bulge in his pants before unzipping his slacks and pulling his underwear down just enough to remove his cock from the confines of his boxers and holy shit.

It's massive.

Taehyung's cock is big and heavy in your hands. It's thick and lengthy and the longer you stare at it the more it twitches with interest.

"Ah, it's embarrassing... if you stare..." Taehyung bites his lip as his length jerks upward, blobs of precum beading up at his tip.

"It's so- what if- I don’t know if it can fit..." You stare down in awe. You've never seen anyone so... well endowed? You're kind of scared he might split you in half.

"Wah, a lot say that, you know? But they can take it!" Taehyung looks up at you with an almost innocent smile on his face, a hint of red still on his cheeks and at the tip of his ears. "Your pussy wraps prettily around my fingers so... so I want to see it... I want to see it wrap prettily around my cock..."

You're a bit shocked at his lewd words but you'd be lying if you said it didn't turn you on. Reluctantly, you brace your arms on his shoulders, perching yourself right above Taehyung's length as he angles it towards your folds. His other hand is gripping your ass and effectively spreading you open further.

"Are you ready? I'll put it inside now." He sounds awfully polite for someone about to literally rearrange your guts. You tuck your face into the crook of his neck and let out a quiet 'Mhm'.

You can feel yourself throbbing as Taehyung eases just the head of his cock inside of you. How is it that you already felt so stretched? You whimper against his neck, trying your best to stay quiet as sparks of pain and pleasure surge through you.

It would be a lie to say Taehyung wasn't having as hard of a time as you were. He wanted so desperately to just pull you down onto his cock and fuck you ruthlessly into the door but the last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. His hand trembles against your ass as he struggles to sit you down on his length slowly.

"Fuck, so big, you're so big, oppa.." You bite down at the skin between Taehyungs neck and collarbone and he lets out a low groan in response, squeezing your ass in an attempt to keep you from sliding all the way down onto him.

His tip had just barely made it past your entrance and despite some of his length already being inside, you already felt so full. There's no way he'd be able to fit inside you completely-

Your jumbled train of thought is cut off suddenly by the doorknob beside you jerking rapidly, followed by a series of rhythmic knocks on the door. In a moment of sudden panic, Taehyung's hand, the one that was holding you up, snaps up and presses against the door like it might open at any second.

But if Taehyung's hand wasn't holding you up anymore...?

"Ahh!! Ahah! Fuck, Taeh-" Instantaneously, you're dropped onto Taehyung's cock, his length filling you up completely and sending waves of pleasure and pain through you as his cockhead jabbed tenaciously at your cervix. At that, you're letting out a series of uncontrollably loud moans and he's slapping a hand over your mouth.

"Y/n? Are you in there? What happened?" It's your coworker’s voice. Fuck. The door handle jiggles some more and Taehyung's making an urgent face at you. He removes his hand from your mouth slowly, making sure not to move too much so you don't make a 'suspicious' sound.

"Ha-huh? I'm, fuck, I'm in here. Getting... espresso beans." Your brain is a jumbled mess and you're honestly surprised you were able to get the words out semi-coherently.

"Uh... okay? Grab some milk as well when you're done." You hear light steps walking away from the door and Taehyung can finally let out a breath of air he didn't know he was holding.

"You're okay? Does it hurt?" Behind the thick haze of desire in his eyes, there's worry. You'd feel thankful if not for the sharp pain curling around your lower abdomen and shooting through your body.

"Hurts, Oppa... Please move." He was so big inside you and every time you shifted he was pressing against a new spot that you didn't even know existed. Not only that, but the tip of his cock was prodding at your cervix and you needed him to move.

He follows your commands almost immediately as if he was waiting for those exact words, leaning you back against the door completely before pistoning his hips into you at a rate you would not describe as leisurely.

Taehyung's fucking into you with enough force that each thrust has you sliding up and down against the door, accompanied by the door rattling quietly every time he pulled out and trusted back in. Your nails dig helplessly into his back as you let out wanton moans against his neck, an almost fruitless attempt at trying to stay quiet.

"So tight and warm. Feel so good inside you." Taehyungs lets out an airy moan, his breath fanning against your ear every time he fucked into you. "So loud, too. You want, hnng, want for them to catch us?"

One of Taehyung's hands finds itself in your hair, pulling your head back roughly so you were looking back at him with dazed eyes. The action almost felt intimate, the way he was staring at you with so much hunger as he drilled you against the door, the way his eyes dropped down to your mouth as you bit your lip to suppress a moan.

"More, more! Ha-ah, Taehyung, I'm about- gonna-" The words stumble from your mouth breathlessly and Taehyung lets out a mix between a growl and a laugh, pulling your hair to the side so your neck was fully exposed for him.

"So bad, so demanding. Did you forget my name? Already?" Taehyung presses faint kisses to your jaw before trailing lower. You plead when Taehyung sucks a light hickey into your neck, licking it over as if to soothe it. "Don't you dare come."

It's an order but his cock is filling you up so nicely, squeezing against every single one of your erogenous zones even when he was simply pulling out to thrust back in. He's pulsing inside you and you can practically feel him in your throat. How does he expect you not to come??

"Oppa! Oppa, please! Fuck, I'm- I can't hold it-" You tried your best to hold off but you were fighting a losing battle. His cock was abusing that special spot inside you, pounding it with every move of his hips and it was exactly that that pushed you over the edge. Well, that and the feeling of him sucking constant hickeys into your collarbone.

"Ileon jenjang..." Taehyung whines as you tighten around him. White blotches cloud your vision as your orgasm curls in your abdomen and washes over you like a wave. "Wanna finish inside... wanna fill- fill you up... want it so bad... but can't."

Taehyung's words become less coherent and start to switch between English and Korean the closer he gets until he's pulling out and breathlessly instructing you to get on your knees, still pumping himself quickly as you follow the order.

"Wanted- wanted to come on that pretty face as soon as I seen- saw you this morning. Shibal! Open your- open your mouth, jagi." Post orgasm bliss was still thrumming through your body as you looked up at Taehyung through your eyelashes. His teeth were clenched tightly, a low growl escaping from his throat as he looked down at you and pumped himself faster, harder.

The picture of Taehyung throwing his head back, opening and closing his mouth with inaudible moans as he squeezed his cock harder is one you'll never forget. Even if you wanted to.

Ropes and ropes of translucent, sticky cum shoot at your face, some of it landing on your lips and cheeks but most of it landing on your tongue. You make a satisfied sound when you swallow it all down, licking away the excess on your lips.

"Fucking sexy." Taehyung laughs, patting the top of your head gently before gripping your chin and pulling you up in a deep kiss. You'd be lying if you said it didn't catch you off guard. Guys never usually kissed you after coming in your mouth. The way his tongue works has your body flushing and your head thoughtless. You let out a quiet moan into his mouth.

When Taehyung's lips separate from yours, a string of saliva is the only thing still connecting you and your legs suddenly feel weak again. You and the taller man stare at each other for what felt like hours, just examining how wrecked you two were.

"Ah, the time! We're leaving now. I should leave first." Taehyung is the first to pull away, using his thumb to wipe away any of the clear substance still lingering on your face. You pull your lips into a slight pout before soothing your skirt down with your hands. Having sex with an idol, you knew it'd end like this but you were still allowed to be disappointed.

"I don't want manager-nim to find out this happened. It can be our little secret. Here." Taehyung rustles through his pants and hands you his phone. You're confused. What does he want you to do with his phone?

After a beat of silence and you holding his phone idly, he finally speaks.

"Your number."

"Seriously?" You raise your eyebrows, shocked.

"Seriously. If I visit here again, I'll call. We can meet." He fixes his pants and adjusts his clothes to look less sloppy, less like he just had the best sex of his life.

"There's so much else I want to do to you."

★━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━★

[© seokiie]

[I do not allow any translating, editing, reposting, or use of any my work!!]

[ramp-it-up]

Request:

Y/N is for one year in America and try to learn the language More (she is from Germany ).

Chris saw her at target and realized that she was kind of lost and was loved to help her 👀

Okayyyy Nonnie! How's this for a challenge?

At first I didn't know how I was going to get there from here, but I cruised IG for some German inspiration. As a result, instead of Y/N, reader is named Maëlle. I also struggled with the knowledge that most Germans know more English than Americans know of any other language, but this is all in fun. 😛

Pairing: Chris Evans x Reader (Maëlle)

Word Count: Around 2K

Warnings: 18+, RPF, MINORS DNI, CURATE YOUR OWN EXPERIENCE, not proofread, Google Translate for the German, verry limited American knowledge of Germans and German culture, not full on Smut, but smutty thots, thoughts of oral sex, fingering, degradation kink, allusions to Dom! behavior, disregarding of stranger danger, the Red Sox, and an age gap.

Maëlle

**********************************

One of your goals when you got settled was to go to Target, Ziel when you arrived in Boston for your graduate exchange year at Boston University.

You understood a great deal of English and could speak many phrases, but you’d hoped your year in America would make you fluent.

You were proud that you were able to get from the BU Student Union to the store. You surprised yourself with the ease that you used your phone to help you translate for what you needed.

Now, you were standing in front of the doors, almost in tears, trying to find where your Uber was to pick you up.

You didn’t pay attention to which way you entered and you needed to find VanNess street. It was about to leave. You suddenly felt helpless, hilflos.

—-

Chris needed to pick up some sunscreen before the game, he couldn't afford a burn right before filming. Even though he had his Red Sox cap on, he still needed some high grade sunblock.

He hurried through the doors of the Target near Fenway Park, head down, trying not to get recognized.

He passed by some beautiful long bronze legs and followed them up a smoking hot body clothed in a scarlet Boston University t-shirt tied up tight and short blue jean skirt.

Your face was framed by waist length blonde braids and your eyes were the most beautiful he’d ever seen.

Your lips deserved ten minutes all on their own, but he kept it moving, not wanting to seem creepy.

You were gorgeous, although you looked flustered. Chris didn’t slow his roll, because you were probably waiting on someone.

When he came back through, five minutes later, he heard your voice and slowed down. He was surprised, but shouldn’t have been. There were black people all over the world.

Even in Germany.

“Kannst du mir zeigen, wo die Van Ness Street ist? Can you tell me? Where is Van Ness Street?”

Your accent was heavy, but passersby just assumed you were crazy or joking with them and ignored you.

Chris was ashamed. That wasn’t what he wanted Boston to be. Even though he was close to being late for the first pitch, he stopped for you. He summoned some German from filming in Europe.

“Kann ich Ihnen helfen?” It was one thing he knew how to say with perfect inflection.

You perked up and smiled at him. “Ach bist du Deutscher? You’re German?”

You looked into the face of the handsome stranger. His eyes. Verdammt!

Chris melted a little bit. When you smiled, you were even more beautiful. Chris smiled back at you, smitten. He laughed.

“No. Italian.”

You understood, but you were confused. Why was this handsome American saying he was Italian and speaking to you in German? And why was he so familiar?

“Oh, Ich entschuldige mich. Sorry.” You smiled again, and Chris forgot all about the game. He wanted to try to talk to you for hours.

“No worries, he said. “Bitte?”

This handsome man’s German was indeed poor. He’d fooled you. He was a good actor. Something pinged in the back of your mind, but you overlooked it. Somehow, he’d made you feel better.

“Ich habe meinen Uber vermisst. Uber, gone!” You made a motion with your hand. “Kannst du mir zeigen, wo die VanNess Street ist?”

“Ohhhh! VanNess is this way,” he pointed toward the other side of the store, and he started leading you through.

You breathed a sigh of relief as you followed him.

You neared the electronics department and there was a giant movie display with dvds. The man saw it, pulled up, stopped, grabbed your hand and quickly led you back the other way.

You were confused.

“Come to think of it, I’ll give you a ride, my car is back out this way. Druben?”

Chris was not going to ruin his afternoon and a chance to talk to you by getting caught signing autographs in Target. He loved his fans, but he already liked you.

You followed him back out of the sliding doors to the parking lot and a blank Range Rover. You just went along with him, your hand feeling at home in his.

Then the panic set in.

You didn’t know this man from Adam.

Your mother had warned you about getting kidnapped by an American serial killer. This was it. You hated it when she was right.

“Wait!”

You said it perfectly, and the man caught your anxiety.

Chris stopped as he tried to open the door for you. He looked into your worried eyes. Shit, he’d gotten carried away. He looked down to where your hands were still locked.

He couldn’t help but smile at them. You smiled, too. Then he looked at you, blue eyes looking like the sea. You smiled back, somehow knowing that you were safe. You leaned back on the car.

“I’m not going to hurt you. My name is Christopher, what is yours?”

“Maëlle.”

Your smile was brightening his entire life. He was into you.

“That’s beautiful. Das ist schön?”

You smiled wider at his compliment. Then you bit your lip. Chris' knees got weak and he took a step closer to you to regain balance.

You were in each other’s space, Chris looking down at you and you at him. You were both getting warm even though it was a cool September day.

Chris pulled your hand instinctively, and you were even closer, your fingers entwined in his close to his thigh, which you could sense flexing through his jeans.

You were staring at his lips and he was doing the same as the butterflies flew around your stomach.

Were you really considering kissing someone you’d just met in Target? What would your mother think?

That thought made you smirk.

“What are you thinking?”

He was leaning over you, his voice in a lower register now. His breath tickled your ear and made you moan slightly.

Chris wanted to know what was going on in that mind of yours, if you were as crazy as he was feeling this kind of connection so fast.

You understood exactly what he was saying, but you just cocked your head and smiled as if you didn’t. You didn’t want him to think that you were thinking of his hands all over you, in your most intimate places.

Chris took a deep breath, trying to clear his head and regain blood flow to his brain. His cock was hard being this close to you and he had to regain composure.

He wasn’t that reckless kid he used to be, but man he wanted to do some depraved things to you. Like drag his tongue up your…

He had to stop. Chris took a step back.

You watched as his tongue peeled out to lick his bottom perfect pink lip. It was strange, but you felt like you knew him. And you wanted him to know you. Intimately.

And now those perfect lips were moving, but you weren’t paying close enough attention to translate what he was saying.

“Can I give you a lift to campus?”

You cocked your head in that pretty way again. He wondered what it would be like to feel your lips. On his lips. On his tattoos, around his…

Chris cleared his throat and tried to think of the words.

“Kann ich mitnehmen?”

He was so cute. You smiled brighter and nodded, “Yes, Christopher.”

Then you gestured to your bra-less breasts in your thin t-shirt. Chris could tell your nipples were hard. He licked his lips and looked around. This was a development.

Then he got your message. He shook his head, chuckling that his thoughts were in the gutter.

“Ooooooh! Boston University! You’re on campus. Yeah, that’s right near here. I’ll take you.”

“Danke. Thanks you, Christopher.”

Your smile would be the end of him. He had to think of a creative way to get your number.

“Hey! Let’s take a picture!” He had his phone out.

You were confused, but maybe this is what Americans did to get to know each other. Take pictures with strangers.

He took a couple of pics and then opened the door for you.

You brushed past him to get in, and Chris allowed his eyes to take in your form, especially your shapely legs.

You noticed him checking you out, and immediately got goosebumps, your nipples hardening again. Your panties were a little moist.

“Let’s just get you… “

Chris reached across you for the seatbelt with his right hand, face coming near yours as he leaned into the car.

“Buckled in…”

Now you were sure your panties were soaked.

Chris allowed his mind to go places, like your pussy, which he was sure was sweet, wet, hot and…

“….Tight.”

Chris gulped, trying not to drool all over you, although he would love to spit in your mouth and make you swallow as he fucked you raw.

“Danke.”

You whispered behind a breathy moan. You wanted not only to ride in this man’s car. You wanted to ride this man in his car.

Your eyes flickered down to his jeans and that’s when Chris realized that he had a raging hard on. He quickly put his hand in his pocket, trying to play it off, flashed a smile and closed the door quickly.

You giggled at how huge what you thought you saw was. You fanned yourself while you waited for him to get in trying to remember your decorum.

Chris stood outside the back of the car for a minute, trying to catch his breath and think. He had to be at least 15 year older than you, he just met you, and you didn’t speak English. None of this made sense.

He was going to drop you off at campus and try to be at the game for the second inning. And act his age.

Christopher got back in the car, much more formal, and started driving.

He looked over to see your legs open and started to wonder how easy it would be to reach over and under your skirt, pull your panties to the side, if you were wearing any, and…

Chris cleared his throat and focused on the road.

You could tell the air had changed. He was different. You wondered what happened.

You looked at his profile and decided that he was turned off by you being so forward. You decided to straighten up, so you did so, literally and figuratively.

You sat up straight and crossed your legs, like prim and proper young ladies do.

The curve of your spine and the crossing of your legs made Chris irrationally angry. It was like you were closing yourself off to him. Then he remembered.

You didn’t know each other.

You pointed out where to go as you neared your apartment. Chris pulled up in front of your unit and you both started talking.

“Danke, Christopher.”

“Hey, Maëlle…”

You both chuckled. Chris continued.

“Let me send you that photo. What’s your number?” He was fiddling with his phone. Then handed it to you. “Type it in for me.”

You grinned wide and his sly smile answered you. Now you understood. You entered your number and handed it back to him, your fingers sparking as you touched.

You were breathless.

“Well…”

“Christopher…”

You two interrupted each other again.

This time you continued.

“Thank you.”

You leaned over and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

Chris closed his eyes. Your lips felt as soft as he imagined. He wanted to do the whole turn his head trick but he wasn’t 23 anymore. But you sure made him feel like it.

He did turn to look at you as you got out of the car and waved after you closed it. You swung your bag in one hand as you walked toward the building, also swinging your hips, watching him as he drove away.

Chris watched you too, as far as he could in the rearview. When you disappeared from sight, he said, “Fuck it,” did a uturn and peeled rubber back to your apartments. He rolled down the window.

“Maëlle! Maëlle!” You stopped just before you reached your door. Chris grinned at you. “You ever been to an American baseball game before?”

You skipped back down the walk happily, grinning back as you leaned in the open window. You cocked your head in that way.

“No, but I like playing wit the balls.”

Chris groaned. He couldn’t tell if you were talking about sports or something else. But he’d figure it out later. You climbed in the car, winked at him and crossed your legs.

Chris licked his lips as he drove back toward Fenway Park, thinking about how he would teach you about keeping your legs open that night.

——

Hope it’s okay Nonnie! ❤️

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