#also!!! i need to draw fern note to self!!! fern is so so good

[epicswagdivorceguy1]

i want to smooch her so so bad and i don't care if i get a mouthful of maggots 💖

[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.

[princessmadafu]

Markle Gardening for Beginners

Please note: photos not of my own garden

Plants in a Meghan-themed garden:

(1) Showy climbers:

Clematis can look beautiful but needs regular pruning as, left unchecked, it can become invasive; once established it's very hard to kill as it thrives on being hard-pruned, and an old climber can even grow back from a well-chainsawed stump as it has developed an extensive underground support system.

Suggested alternative: Chilean Glory Vine, self-limiting, self-seeding and a mass of red and gold insect-friendly flowers all summer long.

(2) Things that look tropical:

Hostas! But beware!

Hostas are a Slug Paradise! Hostas look exotic and some of them have nice flowers and scent, but they cast a lot of shade and attract unwelcome slimey things that will ruin all your hard work.

Suggested alternative: ferns - dryopteris and blechnum are wonderful.

Plants in a Harry-themed garden:

(1) Ramblers:

I love my wild rose but it rambles all over the place, has no direction or particular purpose other than looking decorative for a couple of weeks a year, and it's prone to blackspot. It's good for insects in Spring, but only rarely produces Autumn rosehips to sustain the Winter wildlife.

Suggested alternative: honeysuckle - ye little gods and goddesses of the garden, I love my honeysuckle; it's full of moths, berries for the birds, and only rambles in one direction. Also it forms sinewy clumps which are perfect for wrens and tits to nest in.

(2) Short-lived annuals: supermarket plants; these are excellent for a quick Summer perk-up and can be easily replaced when their brief attraction fades into a withered, powdery resentment. Suggested alternatives: biennials and perennials; foxgloves, anything in the daisy family, violas, echinops, heck - even dandelions! I asked you the other day not to kill wasps, well now I'm asking you not to kill dandelions. Hoverflies love them. Just pull off the dead dandelion heads before they go to seed!

You don’t need a picture of dandelions, so here’s a space for you to draw your own:

Happy Gardening.

[blog4snape]

What if I Meant it? (2)

Pairing: (young) Severus Snape (M) x Reader (F) 

Genre: Fluff with some soft angst

Rating: Citrus (very safe for work)

Summary: A follow-up from the previous chapter. After Severus leaves your classroom, you notice he left his book behind.

Warnings: *spoilers* invasion of privacy

Word Count: 1.7K

Date Written: 9/10/2020

~~~~

June 18th, 1978

After Severus left your classroom in a huff, you sighed, turning your gaze over to the indentation he had left in the pit. He had forgotten his book. You pulled yourself up from your chair and crossed the room to the fortress of pillows, gingerly picking up the discarded item. The book opened naturally to an outlined message, the words smudged from constant touch. Several pages were folded into the shape of a heart with notes written hastily into the inner margins. Curious, you squinted your eyes trying to read the blotched and scribbled writing in the inner corner of the book. Your face flushed, immediately snapping the book shut and holding it farther away from you.

After a moment of collecting yourself, you stared down at the cover of his book. It was an outdated divination book, one he must have gotten from a secondhand book shop for next to nothing. ‘But then again,’ you thought to yourself, ‘all of divination is quite outdated.” You scratched your scalp. 

In your syllabus and throughout the first week of classes, you had expressed that there was no need for any of your students to buy the books. You didn’t require any of your students to purchase divination books, as most of the lessons you taught were hands-on anyway and the books were frankly full of rubbish. Tracing a finger over the worn-out cover, you smiled softly to yourself. Severus was an excellent listener--it couldn’t have been a mishearing--he must have taken an interest in the subject to go out of his way to purchase a divination book. 

‘Or in you.’ The words floated in your head, reminding you of the notes you had just seen scratched into the book still in your hands. 

You sighed, laying in the pit. It was still warm from where Severus had been resting, and you caught a hint of the scent of pine and lavender that would tend to cling to him. You opened the book once more, flipping through the notes he had written.

“That dunderhead Potter wasn’t paying attention to the lesson on Ichthyomancy. He got slapped by the fish we were working with today-”

You laughed, remembering the giant trout that smacked James Potter’s face last week when he decided to mess with it during your lesson after your instruction not to. “You deserved it, Potter,” you laughed, causing other students to follow your footsteps. You said it then and you’d say it again now. 

“-It was pretty great, even the professor laughed at him. She has a cute laugh.” 

As your eyes traveled further down the page, seeing what Severus thought of your laugh made it halt in your throat. Your cheeks burned as you continued to read the comments he wrote. The majority of all of the writing was about divination class- most of them were notes he had written from the lectures. You allowed yourself to have a new teacher’s proud grin, seeing that he was getting a lot out of your lessons. But as you kept turning pages, you found yourself appearing in the margins more and more. Not all of the words were about you, but many of them mentioned you in some way or another. 

‘I told her I had taken quite a liking to ferns. The next week she waved me over after class with a huge smile on her face. She looked so excited. She gave me a tiny fern plant whose sparse fronds had yet to unfurl.’ 

Next to the note was a small doodle of a baby fern. You grinned, it was the cutest drawing you’ve ever seen.

‘She tutored me after class today. She told me to “keep up the good work” and hugged me afterward.’

You nodded, glad to help your students feel more confident in their abilities and glad that Severus Snape was one of them.

‘She baked us biscuits because we all got high marks on the test last week. They tasted good.’

You smiled, happy to know your students liked your gifts. For every test they aced, you would give your students biscuits as a reward. You figured the upperclassmen deserved a treat every now and then, as they’re usually stressing about the OWLs and their NEWT classes.

‘She has pretty eyes.’

Your smile faded. You had to read that line again. You adjusted the book in your hands, moving one hand to your temple. Were you reading that right? 

‘She held me while I cried. It was all I’ve ever wanted. I want her to hold me again.’

‘She doesn’t want to tell me about who she saw that night. But, she didn’t ask me about the werewolf. So I guess I’ll stop asking her. For now.’ 

That night a boggart was in your classroom. You bit your index nail, images of your boggart pressing into your mind. With all that had been happening lately, you didn’t even realize he had stopped asking you but you instantly felt gratitude blossom in your chest. You read the past two notes again, feeling regret at the way you handled the situation. You wished you had been harsher. Any other teacher wouldn’t have given in to his demands. But he wasn’t just your student--he was your old friend.  

‘Her hands are soft.’

Was he just your friend? Your heart thumped, wondering if he only thought of you as his friend, also.

‘I like her plants. She’s got a bunch all over the classroom. Whenever I ask her about one, she gets so excited and tells me all she can about it. I already knew most of it, but I haven’t the heart to interrupt her. I like when she gets passionate about something, and the way she rambles about plants is cute.’

The note was surrounded by small drawings of the plants around your classroom. You stroked the ink outlines of the leaves with an appreciative grin. He was rather talented.

‘She’s so cute when she’s setting something on fire.’

Despite the flush on your cheeks, you chuckled a bit. Divination allowed you to set a lot of things on fire, and sometimes you seemed just a bit too eager. ‘So are you,’ you murmured, thinking of Severus’ passion for learning.

‘She smiled at me today and told me something. I was too focused on her mouth to remember what she said.’ 

You absentmindedly stroked your lips. You took a moment to swear at yourself- urging yourself to stop reading this book, to stop reading Severus’ private feelings, and to stop feeling your own feelings, but you just kept going. 

‘She named one of her plants, “Snargs.” I don’t know why, because it wasn’t even a Snargaluff, but it made me chuckle anyway.’

You smiled at the mention of your plant. Next to the note was a drawing of Snargs, your forever-flowering cactus with the name ‘Snargs’ written in a curly font above the plant. You looked up, seeing Snargs sitting on the high windowsill with his petals dancing in the soft summer breeze. You blew a kiss to him, placing his weekly watering schedule at the back of your mind as you kept reading.

‘She gave me a gift last Christmas. It was a new bag for my books. I saw her staring at the holes in my old bag the month before. The box didn’t have a sender, but I knew it was her. I could smell her perfume on it and it was her handwriting on the note inside.’

Embarrassed, you scratched the inside of your arm. You tried to be sneaky about your gift but it was certainly difficult getting anything past someone as observant as Severus. The two of you didn’t participate in the holiday’s secret santa event, but you could tell he desperately needed a new bag. His previous bag looked a century old, full of holes and nearly falling apart at the seams. His materials constantly fell out of his bag, and you had grown sorrowful every time he had to backtrack with downfallen eyes and a red face to retrieve his dropped items. You knew he didn’t want your pity, and you were afraid if you gave the bag to him in person he’d reject it, so you decided to be as anonymous as possible. You were glad he decided to use it anyway despite knowing where it came from in the end. Smiling, you wondered if he’d accept the gift if it came from anyone else.

Then, for the next few pages shaped like a heart, he had written your name in the margin in his best calligraphy, with pulsing hearts, twinkling stars, blossoming flowers, swimming fish, and tiny sketches of tarot cards. You stared, mesmerized at his magicked art, caressing the moving lines with your fingers. He wrote your names together in a heart, side by side with his. You couldn’t help the smile bubbling onto your curious face as you slowly took in every addition, fiddling with the corner of the dog-eared pages that had been shaped into a heart. You flipped the page, confused--there were tiny hearts drawn around an inky black mass. The mass was a jumble of rough sketch-lines, but they started to move. Your breath caught in your throat as the lines scribbled down on the paper formed an image of you, turning around and smiling. Nothing but astounding brightness was in your features, a direct contrast to the next notes he had written down. 

‘I wonder if she feels the same as I do. She has to, right?’

You just couldn’t answer that question right now. You bit your lip, glancing up at the door as if Severus could burst in at any moment. You sighed, thinking about him as your eyes dropped back to the writing. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you stroked the next horrible words beneath your finger, feeling his self-doubt emanating from the paper.

‘But who could ever like someone like me?’

The next note was a long paragraph, but whatever words you could see were smudged and crossed out. Ink had been spilled on top of the page, the black streaks marring the yellowed pages. The corner of the page was brandished with scorch marks. 

~~~~

A/N: Thank you for reading!  These “one-shots” (lol) are from a series called Afterimages of You. Here’s the masterlist for all of the one shots I have posted in the series. a big ol thank you to @thats-mrs-snape-to-you​  @bush-viper-cutie​ and @littl-prince​ for helping me, i love you guys!!

[emj-tolj]

Bringing a World of Adventure Hunting in to Your Home

Not everyone is not living in a position to wander the woods, desert, beach or ruins. I had that situation at one point in my life. And yes its depressing. And when you read others doing all these things its can really get to you. However there are a huge number of things yo CAN do to counteract the depression. Lets visit a good many of these things:

1) Everyone’s first Go-to is Roleplaying. Be its table-top or online. But not all Online games bring out the true desire to adventure, as they are limited to telling a specific story. As such I suggest avoiding using game maps and make you own real maps. Right down and study any runes in the game, study the magic tech in the game, write side stories of your character that can not be done in game. Create a history to the character you made. Some games are limited what you character looks like. Draw your own character and hang it by your game station.

2) If you have adventure wear, wear it about the house/apartment. Does not have to be all of it. Boots, a shirt, a vest, tunic, wristbands, cloak 

3) If you  have the money and talent turn kitchen into a tavern or saloon, line shelfs with bottles and plates and other tavern/saloon wear. Avoid cheese props. Study movie sets and get ideas from that. 

4) Likewise turn your bedroom into an Inn room. Go ristic and simple with natural colors and materials

5) Burn in a cauldron or censor wood chips, herbs and incense, 

6) Hang posters of nature about the walls in natural wood frames. If you can obtain some old wood window frames, you that as your poster frames. If possible find images of nature on line and print them out. Try to make all the images co-inside, so its looks like you are looking out into the same view. Change the posters with the seasons if possible 

7) Place realistic life-size animals about your home: Snake, turtle, mice, birds, chipmunks, insects. If you have a ficus tree or a cluster of plants, place a birds nest with eggs in it

8) Play sound effects and ambient sounds in the house. Youtibe and other sites have a plethora of ambiance and sounds from cave to camp sites, tavern sounds, market squares, pirate ships, forests 

9) Add a fountain/s in your home. Fountain pumps can be bought anywhere these days, 

10) Terrariums! Make them and add them to your home. Even of the plants are fake 

11) Aquariums! If your adventurous aestheic love is the see or any water setting like ponds, these are fantastic to have. And do not limit yourself to just fish: Crabs, snails, turtles, frogs, lizards, snakes. Even if you are not allowed to have pes, build an aquarium anywhere. The flow of the water from the filtar moving the plants can lend to the imagination  

12) Wood, tin and copper and wrought iron objects 

13) Leather bound books. Line a shelf with them, 

14) Candles and lanterns. Some people can not have things where they live for safety mode. Even if you never burn them, have a cluster of candles anyway. Just the look of lanterns and candles plays with the mind. You can also invest in battery ones but I think they are silly looking

15) Bowls of fruit: Wood bowls and real fruits and nuts about the house. 

16) Seasonal and year round garlands and wreaths about the house. Clusters of ferns. If you do not have a green thumb, go fake if need be. Ferns and spider plans are my fave. 

17) Drift wood and moss covered wood. 

18) If you have your own Adventure clothes and gear do not bury it in a closet. Get a mannequin and display it, 

19) Fur, leather, blankets, wool, sheepskin throws and pillows.

20) Banners and tapestries 

21) Invest in a couple of mortar & pestle sets, one for the kitchen and one for the bathroom is you have the room. (Confession: I collect them) 

22) Hang herbs and dry plants in the kitchen.   

23) Clay pots and assorted pottery about the house. Try to sick with OLD looking styles. Check out some sites or books on ancient styles for an idea 

24) Antlers add a wonderful feel to ambience. Even if fake. Now they are made into door handles, draw knobs and so much more. (DO NO go hung deer and elk JUST for their racks)

25) Bowls and vases of snail shells, acorns, pine cones, 

26) Rolls and displays of maps, 

17) Glass and Ceramic bottles: Display a few or better yet, use them! fill them with shampoos, liquid soaps, drinks and what ever else you use and look at daily  

18) Old style dip pens and ink vials on your desk along with scrolls of parchment and an old leather bound journal, 

19) Color glass baubles like the ones at christmas time and “witch balls” These are great if your Aesthetic is the sea or in the Witchy profession, 

20) Wood wand display. Not talking about Harry Potter here. Do a little reserach and find or make a REAL one. Display it on your desk or mantle staff. If you have a set, even better. 

21) A Statue of an ancient god, 

22) Baskets and wicker to hold things 

23) Metal goblets and drinking horns

24) If you have one or several hand your shields on the walls, 

25) Oil hurricane lamps, 

24) Hang and display Gourds about. If you know how to carve and stain gourds, all the better, 

25) Birds houses. In the house?? Sure, why not? 

26) Feathers. Sometimes just a vase of ling feathers helps. If they are feathers you find in your walks, just as better. Each one has a story  

28) Bowls of rocks. Not only does this bring the natural world in but its said that a bowl of rocks by the door and window wards off negativity. 

29) Old wood boxes. Just do not collect them but USE them. put whatever in them as storage. Afraid you will forget what’s in it??? All the better. There is your treasure at the end of your search. 

30) Corn dollies. These folk cultural dolls and designs have their roots into the ancient world. a display of them, especially during the late summer, really invokes the harvest season 

31) Ceramic and wood bake ware in the kitchen. Ads a rustic tavern feel. This could include   bread boards and bowls, wood spoons, rolling pins,

32) Replace DVD covers with parchment or wood texture covers. Sometimes a wall of game and DVD cases can kill an ambiance you are striving for. If you can not print out all these coves, hang a tapestry over your shelf unit or add wood shutter doors  

33) Cover your library of bright color books with leather, paper of plether, No access to leather? See of someone has an old leather jacket they are ditching you can cut up

34) Wood flutes, harps, ocarinas, pan pips, lyres and rustic drums add to a great tavern-ish display.

35) A tall vase of cattails gives ambiance for this that over adventures in places like rivers and lakes, 

36) If you have a collection of crystals, sea glass and gemstones, show them off in a wood box or basket, 

37) Halloween Witch bottles add to the adventure appel. (I have a buhnch and have all my teas in them, 

38) Fancy yourself an Librarian or treasure seeker? Have a display of “artifacts” like (potters, tiles, scales, bones, glass, wood), Find some broken pottery shards and make them look like Greek pottery. If you sculpt make a remnant of a state or a bone or prehistoric tooth. Create your own artifacts and put stories to them.

39) Hang a bunch of leather sachets and small bags from a hook or sit them on a shelf, 

40) Find yourself a rustic tea set, 

41) Collect vintage clay and wood tops. Tops have been around since ancient Assyria and Babylon.

42) Display a collection of carving tools or depending on your likes, a small anvil and hammer,  

43) Hand on hoots of rack by your door or wall woven wicker hats, leather caps and witch/witch hat, head wreaths,

44) Display an old stick/straw/grass broom head wreaths, 

45) Display a helm or helmet you have in a place that speaks “I am at the ready”

46) Fold a small stack of old burlap bags and place on a shelf and use them to store things like potatoes and onions, 

47) Display and basket of wood knitting needles and wool,

48) Grow plants, flowers, herbs and small trees. Even small pots of just grass adds a sense of nature and Adventure (The ancient Greeks would grow grass for their New Years Eve celebration) I have lemon trees in my windows I grew from seeds.

49) A Fish Net works great to add an aesthetic look to your space.

50) If nothing more find an artist and have him/her draw your aesthetic self as you see yourself in different poses, gear and situations. Blow thing up power size and hang them about your space

51) If you can not do any of this, create a physical scrap book of pictures and images that’s screams your aesthetic ideals. Visit it daily and add to it.

NOTE: While all these ideas are great starts, DO NOT over do it. Less is more. Rustic and simple. Avoid cheesy plastic props and things like signs screaming “I am a Proud Viking!” Investigate films, movies and history into your aesthetic loves and the world behind it. Do not create clutter. Make you space livable and function to your NEEDS. Make you space your home, not a museum. If your space is cluttered and does not bring you a feel of your Aesthetic feelings you may need to pull back on some of your props.     

[comicteaparty]

July 11th-July 17th, 2020 Creator Babble Archive

The archive for the Creator Babble chat that occurred from July 11th, 2020 to July 17th, 2020.  The chat focused on the following question:

How do you personally stay motivated and/or disciplined enough to work on your story?

🌈ERROR404 🌈

being under schedule DEFINITELY being under schedule

there has been nothing that has lit a stronger fire under my ass than self appointed deadlines

eliushi [Keyspace]

Deadlines definitely help for me! I also find talking with supportive fellow comic folks, writers and artists very inspiring Their successes help me focus on my work too!

carcarchu

I'm motivated by the desire to see how my story ends

eliushi [Keyspace]

That is also very true and very much the Mood

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

I agree with self-appointed deadlines, but also just my eagerness for future scenes propel me. And a little bit of a desire for other people to see a bit of the world that's in my head.

eliushi [Keyspace]

I desire to see the world inside your head

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

Hahaha, and I desire to share it

Seriously though, as much as I write for myself, I get an obscene amount of motivation from seeing other people getting excited about my story.

I thrive on the curiosity and eagerness of others, and the potential for others to love my characters just as I do

Feather J. Fern

For me, I think motivation for me is "If I get this done, I can show my friend who is really excited about my comic" Because you always need that one hype friend who wants to see your comic

Cronaj ~{Whispers of the Past}~

100%

A hype friend or family member can be a great motivator!

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Scheduling, deadlines, having other people to talk about your work... Definitively my top 3. But also, if for some reason I'm not motivated to do a particular thing, I like to think why is that exactly? Is this page/scene not convincing ME? what can I change to fix that?

Deo101 [Millennium]

^^^ YES!!! 9/10 times if I'm not working on a page it's cause I'm not feeling it 100%, and restarting the page to try something different helps almost always!!!

So I stay motivated by keeping it fresh, and also yeah deadlines help a lot

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Personally? Just hanging around people who also art and seeing how they work. Also trying to keep myself physically healthy because I can't focus on my work if I'm not up to par.

DanitheCarutor

You know, in spite of how busy my life has gotten within the past couple months (Now balancing housework with a job that keeps me away from home for 12-13 hours a day.), the two things keeping me motivated are seeing certain scenes play out and the ending. I have some really major events coming up and I want to see them happen, I want to see that development from where everything began pay off, and I want the characters to get that satisfying ending they worked hard for. Also I really want to see readers reactions, making people upset with my characters and what they're going through is my jam and admittedly a major driving point for me to continue working on my comic.

eliushi [Keyspace]

The emotional connection is key!

persephinnie

Having a support group of friends, even if not exactly friends but peers and mutuals in online communities does so much wonders! And also not necessarily having a strict structure on my end, but telling myself every week what progress needs to get done and writing it down instead of keeping it all in my thoughts helps tremendously.

sssfrs (JOE IS DEAD)

I'm very motivated by producing the next parts/end of the story

Getting to future scenes

shadowhood {SunnyxRain}

Fanart is also a biiiig motivator for me. Just the idea/fact that people took the time, care and love to draw my ocs makes me a lot more motivated to tell my story even more, because it means that people care enough to want to see more

TaliePlume

My family mostly my brothers are a huge motivation because they have been through a lot and and there's not that many comics with positive Haitian representation. I wanted to dedicate my comic to them.

GuildmasterPhill

I just started uploading my comic on webtoons now, as well as my main website. Hopefully it can reach more people that way!

In terms of staying motivated, Any amount of feedback from readers is key. I want to connect with them through my art, and if they let me know it's working, then I just gotta keep going!

Holmeaa - working on WAYFINDERS

When I can I treat Wayfinders like a full time job. That helps because then I have my usual working schedule and then I just work away! When I have a job I take small breaks to help Q out, like five min breaks, and work on it in weekends and evenings

So motivation is not a problem. I want to make this story so bad. I want to work creatively on my own stories every every day

crittybonbon

I used to be quite motivated by my readers, not wanting to disappoint them by missing updates. But I realized that this was actually causing me a lot of stress and anxiety. Now I'm mainly motivated by strict schedules and habits ("Tuesdays from 8pm-10pm" is my sketch the whole page night, ect). I have a kid now and also work FT so I take my schedules seriously, I cant delay or procrastinate like I used to because I have to balance work and family. On that some note and if Im sick or something I will push the update a day or two and I try not to feel too bad it, your readers will wait. But it did take me years to develop a good work ethic.

Artem Ficta (Ring Spell)

I don't have many readers so I stay motivated purely by my love of the story, my habit of drawing, and my desire for a finished product.

Miranda (Into the Swell)

I feel like my story is what keeps me motivated. I finally have a story that I'm very invested in and it's made it so much easier to keep working on it. But I think also knowing that people are reading my comic would be a good motivator as well. I've also found an art style that I genuinely enjoy drawing and improving at so it's fun to see the improvement as I work on pages.

LadyLazuli (Phantomarine)

I want to tell these characters' stories. And I want my readers to know what happens to them. Every page I make is a step closer toward that

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

I relate much more to the recent love of story comments than the friends and readers comments

i wanna get to the good partsss

i love my endinggg

and i refuse to be yet another incomplete webcomic

Desnik

I stay motivated by having a critique group to share with on a regular basis. If I have no progress ready to show I feel bad

AntiBunny

I agree that point. My motivation is to get these stories out of my head and into the world, or they might just build up until my head explodes.

Yung Skrimp (Carefree)

Motivation where you at

Mitzi (Trophallaxis)

squeakin in just before the deadline to add that, and this might sound a tad mean, spite honestly keeps me motivated to make art and continue my comic/other art pursuits There have been people who tell me I should be doing something else with my life (to put it nicely), and what better revenge than to keep improving and putting more and more of my work out there for people to see?? ain't no one getting rid of me lmao

carcarchu

i feel ya on the spite thing mitzi, the best revenge i can get against the people who doubted me is to flourish

varethane

I think my main drive is being extremely hype to have people outside of my own brain get excited about the story things I have planned. These moments I daydream about.... if someone else can share that dream even for a moment, that's what I want (just realized this wording is extremely sappy skdjdhfbf sorry)

Eightfish (Puppeteer)

Ah no I think it's lovely the way you worded that

Shizamura 🌟 O Sarilho

Hahahaha [I laugh but deep inside in just... Uwu.. Same]

keii’ii (Heart of Keol)

Deep same. I do want to see the story come to life for myself as well, but it wouldn't be the same without potential audience engagement. If I were to do this in a total vacuum, I'd probably just do illustrations of my top favorite scenes only.

But it's a little bit more complex than that in practice. Drawing all the scenes enriches my own understanding of/ love for those favorite scenes. It's got the opposite of vicious cycle effect going on.

[signs-of-the-moon]

Moon Rise: Chapter 10

Making her way through the bramble tunnel proved itself to be more difficult as she returned home. Pain shot up Swiftpaw's leg as it snagged on a bit of the brambles as she made her way inside. Her ear burned as she turned and accidentally scraped the sensitive open wound against a thorn. As commanded, she took herself right over to the medicine den with no argument as soon as she was safely in camp. She had grown so accustomed to just walking inside and seeing Mistypaw that she didn't even think twice about it until she saw that the fluffy silver she-cat wasn't there. She blinked as she registered that it was only Snowfrost who was left in the den, as well as an unconscious Goldensong. Snowfrost was busying herself with checking her herb stock when she scented Swiftpaw's blood. Her ears pricked out of instinct and she immediately knew which herbs to grab. Without even speaking to Swiftpaw, the lynx point molly already had a spread ready for her.

"You there, come sit," she commanded, pointing to an empty fern nest with her tail-tip. Swiftpaw hobbled her way over to it and sat down, leaving her bad leg to stick out a more comfortable angle. Snowfrost approached her, giving her ear and foreleg a sniff.

"What happened?"

"I was battle training and things got a little more intense than they should have," Swiftpaw replied. Snowfrost only responded with a small "hm" before dragging a pile of flower petals resting on a leaf in front of her with her paw. She bent down, taking a couple of them into her mouth. She began to chew, spitting them back out onto another leaf. She dabbed her paw into the freshly made poultice, smearing it onto Swiftpaw's bite wound. The white and black patched molly hissed in response.

"That stings!" she spat. Snowfrost fixed her with a hard glare.

"I know, calm down" she growled. "it's supposed to. That means its killing any dirt that might infect the wound. Now keep still, I'm not done with you yet." Snowfrost picked up some more of the petals. This time she grabbed them with her claw, pressing them to Swiftpaw's ear. She squeezed them, the juices flowing into the v-shaped cut and the scratches on her scalp. Swiftpaw winced, resisting the urge to flick her ear.

"What even is that stuff?" she grumbled through gritted teeth, trying to distract herself while the medicine cat worked on her.

"It's marigold," the silver lynx point she-cat informed her as she took some cobwebs to dress Swiftpaw's wounds. "You're lucky I even have any to use at this time. In a few days I'm going to need you to go with Mistypaw to find some, my supplies are running low. For now, I think there'll be enough to last until the new flowers bloom. As long as you don't plan on going around and getting yourself hurt again. Who was the one who attacked you?"

"Rabbitpaw," Swiftpaw responded bitterly. "I guess he got me pretty good."

"Rabbitpaw, hm? I always knew he'd turn out to make a fine future warrior." Snowfrost's tone oddly softened as she spoke of the fluffy tom, like a queen bragging about her kits. "But yes, he did 'get you pretty good.' You ear will be permanently cut open, there's nothing I can do about that. The most I can do is keep infection away while it heals. I think you should stay in here and rest for the remainder of the day. I don't want you jumping around and messing up your dressings while tussling with your friends. Those herbs are too precious to waste." Swiftpaw parted her jaws, about to protest, but was quickly silence with a challenging glare. The young apprentice laid down, tucking her legs under herself. She watched as the lynx point medicine cat gathered what was left of her herbs and put them away. She listened to her quietly count her stock, taking mental notes of what to fetch later with Mistypaw.

"Poppy seeds," Snowfrost whispered at one point, drawing Swiftpaw's attention even more. "I definitely need more poppy seeds. I was sure I had more than this. Where did they all go?" That was strange, Swiftpaw remembered Mistypaw and a warrior named Cowpatch bringing some back fairly recently. A "collecting" warrior, she remembered him being referred to as. What did that even mean? Swiftpaw reminded herself to find that out later. For now, she was more focused on a more pressing question. How was Snowfrost running low on poppy seeds so soon? Cats only take one or two at a time, she recalled Mistypaw telling her. If she remembered right, they were used to help cats calm down and to ease pain. She hasn't heard of many cats needing them within the tine that she'd been around. An unexpected, eerie feeling settled itself upon Swiftpaw, making the fur on the back of her neck stand up involuntarily. It was a perplexing; nothing was wrong right now whatsoever, not that she knew of anyhow. Swiftpaw groomed her chest fur, willing herself to calm down. she needed something to distract herself from the feeling.

"Hey, Snowfrost?" she mewed quietly. The lynx point medicine cat turned her head to look at her. "Can you explain what a collecting warrior is?"

Snowfrost stared at her for a heartbeat. "That's an out of the blue question, but... alright. A collecting warrior is just as it sounds. Warriors who take up that job assist cats by fetching things they need. They often come to me for herbs for the elders or to bring to me, or fetch bedding for the elders and queens." That made sense, Swiftpaw realized she should have been able to figure that out by herself. But this was a good distraction for her, just what she needed. As much as she didn't like Snowfrost, she had to admit the older molly knew her stuff. Now Swiftpaw had a new question to ask.

"I didn't know warriors could take up different jobs. What other jobs are there?"

Snowfrost sighed and turned around to fully face the curious apprentice. She sat down, wrapping her plumed tail around her paws neatly, her herbs forgotten for the time being. "This really is something your mentor should be teaching you about. But, since I am the one whose keeping you here, I might as well entertain you." The look on her silver tabby masked face showed boredom for the subject, but Snowfrost pressed on, if only to get Swiftpaw to shut up and leave her alone afterwards. "There are many jobs you can take on once you are made a warrior. Before your ceremony on the day of your final assessment, you tell Whitestar what you wish to do with your career once you are named," she began to explain, with Swiftpaw hanging on her every word. "To start, there are your typical jobs: Hunting, and Fighting, I'm sure those need no explanation. There is also Guarding, which again is self explanatory. Though from what I hear it can be a tougher job than it seems. You get to watch over our most vulnerable dens, and accompany medicine cats or the leader if they must travel across the border to address another clan. Next there are the more unique jobs. There are the Spy warriors; cats who do what they can to learn secrets about those who may being doing wrong, or are an enemy to the clan. There are the Listeners and Watchers, who go out on patrol and use their special skill in either sight or hearing to aid in things such as border checks and hunting. Den Keepers are very important cats to the clan; they are the warriors who make sure our dens are in order, and help with repairs when a part of camp becomes messy or broken." Snowfrost lifted a paw to groom as she continued. "Another important job is the Code Keeper-"

"Oh oh I know about Code Keepers!" Swiftpaw interrupted. "Dewstone told me about it. The Code Keeper helps the leader and deputy keep law and order by upholding the Warrior Code to an extent where they make it their job to enforce it." She beamed, proud of herself for remembering. Snowfrost twitched her whiskers.

"Yes, very good. After that, there is the Den Mother, who is the most experienced permanent queen in the nursery. Den Mother is a highly respected role in the clan, they are the one responsible for all the kits and queens, and are the most trusted cat in the clan to turn to when you have a problem. And finally, there are the History Keepers; cat who remember all the lore and greatest battles the Land' Star has ever seen." Swiftpaw's eyes sparkled with wonder as she listened to Snowfrost speak. There were so many different things she could do when she'd become a warrior, how would she know what job was right for her to choose? Her head was spinning from the thought.

"Help!" A cry snapped Swiftpaw out of her daze. Snowfrost swung around to face the mouth of the medicine den. Through the ivy veil came a light brown tabby queen, carrying a mewling bundle of brown fur in her jaws. Worry shone in her yellow eyes as she looked at Swiftpaw then at Snowfrost. She padded up to the lynx point molly, gently placing the kit at her paws.

"What is problem now, Cricketsong?" She asked, sounding a bit annoyed. Her tail-tip twitched as if out of impatience. Did Cricketsong bother her a lot?

"My brown kit has a thorn stuck in her rear!" She cried.

"The wool from your nest must have snagged on the brambles when it was brought into camp," Snowfrost explained, bending down to yank out the thorn. She took the tiny prick between her teeth, tugging it out swiftly. The kit let out a sharp squeak of surprise, mewling less than she had when she was first brought to the den. Snowfrost turned to grab another marigold petal out of her stockpile. She took it between her paws and milked it for its juices, squeezing it onto the tiny cut on the kit.

"There now. She should be alright."

"How could you let this happen?" Cricketsong growled at her, ears drawing back in displeasure.

"How could I let your kit be healed?" Snowfrost asked with voice monotone, flicking an ear.

"No!" The brown tabby queen snapped. "That wool came from a wad kept in your den. How could you not check it over before giving it to an apprentice to line my nest? That thorn could have poked one of my kits' eyes out!"

"Watch your tone," Snowfrost chided. "I have done nothing wrong. I am a very busy cat, I don't have time for menial tasks like examining wool."

"Why not have Mistypaw look it over?" Swiftpaw chimed in. The two older she-cats whipped their heads around to look at her.

"Mistypaw has no time for it either. She is even busier than I am, learning and herb gathering and the like," Snowfrost replied, lashing her tail. Her tone changed to one of irritation. The mollies turned their attention back onto each other, staring each other down. "If you are so worried about finding thorns in your nest then why don't you look it over?" Snowfrost challenged. Cricketsong scoffed. As the two she-cats bickered back and forth, a tiny voice piped up over the other cats's. Swiftpaw glanced down to see Cricketsong's kit toddling over to her.

"Hi!" She squeaked, voice high and soft with youth. "Who you?"

Swiftpaw sat up in her nest to look down at the kitten.

"I'm Swiftpaw," she chriped, blinking slowly.

"Meddie cat?" The brown kit asked, tilting her head back to gaze up at the patched she-cat who towered over her.

"No, I'm a warrior apprentice." The kit's soft blue eyes sparkled with awe. She giggled, pointing at herself with a paw. She was only a half moon old and already excited about becoming an apprentice someday. She could barely even talk yet.

"You're so cute," Swiftpaw trilled, bending down to give the kit a lick between the ears. "Run along to your mommy now." But the kitten made no effort to leave. Instead she waddled up to Swiftpaw, settling herself down in the nest beside her. She let out a soft, content sigh before curling up and closing her eyes. Swiftpaw blink then gave a shrug, laying back down. She listened to the argument between Snowfrost and Cricketsong die down until Cricketsong was ready to leave. She whipped her head around, as if looking for something.

"My kit, she's gone!" She wailed.

"She's right here," Swiftpaw mewed softly, tilting her head to point out the brown kit napping beside her. Cricketsong sighed with relief, padding up to the nest. She picked her daughter up by the scruff, briefly dipping her head in thanks to Swiftpaw. She then turned tail and pranced towards the mouth of the den, pausing for a heartbeat to shoot Snowfrost a nasty glare before leaving, nose stuck up in the air snobbishly.

"Mouse-brain," Snowfrost muttered with a lash of her tail, bringing her attention back to her herb stock at long last. A while past by. Swiftpaw grew bored of watching the medicine cat sort through plants, falling asleep from lack of interest. A familiar, sweet scent soon tickled her nostrils, rousing her from slumber. Mistypaw mewed a hello to her mentor as she entered the den, dropping dock and bark at her paws. Swiftpaw stood up in her nest, ready to greet and speak with her friend. She hadn't seen her all day, and was excited to chat. But before she could say anything, Snowfrost meowed, "Swiftpaw, you're free to go back to your duties. I can't have you crowding the den anymore." Rude! Swiftpaw thought, a growl rising from her throat. But she didn't argue. The white and black patched molly simply glanced at Mistypaw as she stalked out of the den and out into the fresh Newleaf air. She hadn't realized just how much time she had spent inside the medicine den; it was almost completely dark out already. The full moon began to rise over the horizon, shining cool light over the camp. The light decorated the clearing in a dazzling display of black and silver, the likes of which Swiftpaw had never seen before.

"All cats old enough to travel across the meadow gather here beneath Tall Stone for a clan meeting!" Whitestar called unexpectedly. The light of the rising moon reflected off her pelt, making her appear to glow in its light as she climbed to the stone's peak. The clan gathered around the ancient boulder to look up at their leader. Apprentices pushed their way to the front, excited to hear the night's announcement. Mistypaw and Snowfrost emerged from their den, the queens across camp pushed their way into the crowd, and elders crowded behind the rest of the clan. Swiftpaw followed her friends closer to Tall Stone, tilting her head back to gaze at the she-cat above them. "I have decided who shall be attending the Gathering tonight," Whitestar announced, scanning the crowd with her pale blue eyes.

"What's a Gathering?" Swiftpaw whispered to Frostpaw who was sitting beside her now. Frostpaw flicked her tail, glancing at the white and black patched she-cat.

"The Gathering is a meeting held once every full moon. There, we meet with the other four clans, and learn about what's been going on in their territories," she whispered back. Swiftpaw parted her jaws to ask more questions, but was shushed by a cat sitting behind her before she could get another word out.

"As usual, those who are named, meet by the camp exit in a single file line, with Chicorynose taking the lead. Snowfrost, Mistypaw, Ryestep, Gingerstrike, Ashwhisker, Jaybird, Tigerfang, Waspwing, Slugsnout, Meadowcall, Tornface, Sheeptail, Shadowpaw, Frostpaw, Rabbitpaw, and Swiftpaw shall all be coming with us tonight."

Swiftpaw's fur began to stand on end out of astonishment. I'm going to see the other clans?