#but also hurts myself twice as much in writing this version

[idolofm4dness]

I'm currently in the middle of writing about Ninjago au. Centering the relationship between Lloyd and Harumi has a strong chokehold on me that I can't believe. I betrayed myself by shipping them with the rest of the ninjas and testing Lloyd about his crush. Its was a slap in the face. She was the villain of the second season. I was shipping them hard even though I have a love-hate relationship with shipping myself.

Bleeding Hearts au -

What if Lloyd and Harumi had a final fight where Lloyd, because of the saying "beware the anger of a good man times 100," confronts Harumi about her actions. Harumi gets her own version of the cave and now has a scene where Lloyd makes her see the pain she has caused. He points out all the people she hurt with the destruction of the Jade Palace, how she only focused on the king and queen, but her plan killed others who were innocent. He mentions that the people of Ninjago asking her if their praise Garmadon, and how, as saviors of Ninjago, people are living in fear as they know they're imprisoning people who should be against them. A protector is supposed to bring hope, not fear. Also, he is angry at her and the Sons of Garmadon.

He Agree with her about his father being a savior. He did it twice. As the great devour attack, he too saw him as a savior, but saw the good in him when he sacrificed himself to repent for what he did when he was evil, basically. They see what they did as disrespectful.

He's done playing nice with that girl, and I really want him to put on the mask of hatred, or else we'll have more glimpses of his oni side, showing that he hates her just as much. In her diary, it's explained that he seemed to care for her, but he talks about how she destroyed two people, Hutchins and him, who actually loved and cared about her. Let's be real, I love Lloyd, but sometimes I feel like he's too passive. He needs to go apeshit once in a while because the villains mess with him too much, and at some point, they're going to realize that they should stop mentally torturing him. He basically becomes her villain in a way. They say he was mostly inspired by a piece of fan art where Lloyd is a manifestation of Harumi's guilt. Also, he actually does try to rebuild his relationship with Garmadon.

My second AU is inspired by Revue Starlight. Funny enough, I've actually finished writing the first chapter for this one. In this AU, the two main characters are essentially like Karen and Hikari, but with a twist - they have bad blood and attend rival schools. In this version, they actually meet as children in a gift shop, where they both see the same play and quickly become friends, promising to become actors together like in the anime. I'm still working out the details, though. I haven't figured out Harumi's relationship with Lloyd in this AU because, unlike in the show, he isn't responsible for killing her parents. Her parents died in a car accident, which doesn't really involve Lloyd at all, so I don't know why she's so angry at him. I don't have much else planned for it, but I really like this idea. I was actually inspired to write this while re-watching some Revue Starlight revues, specifically the revue of the hunting. Is this is Anime is like figure out your problems via song. I feel their relationship is much better in this version and they actually do forgive each other.

if you guys wanna give me some suggestions, I like it to give us some suggestions of some revue titles.

[ratherbebitch]

𖦹 IᑎTᖇO 𖦹

formerly @/dumbcrustyassbitch

hey !! this is basically just a silly blog where i ramble and reblog about my interests !!

info

you can call me bee :3

she/they

scottish

will unlikely be the one to initiate conversation, but feel free to talk to me !!! im just a very anxious person

neurodivergent in some way, im still working myself out

lesbian, possibly asexual !! questioning that and gender bc wtaf

can get very passionate, just lmk if im being annoying or too much !!!

my interests

mean girls

my favourite version of mean girls is the broadway !!! regina is my favourite character, ive watched the 2024 movie 31 times !! also im an avid cadina/rejanis shipper (me and my gf are literally cadina)!!! please send me asks/dm me about mean girls, i could babble for hours :3 my favourite song from the broadway is meet the plastics, and my favourite from the movie is someone gets hurt !! WISHING SO HARD FOR WEST END TICKETS🙏🙏🙏🙏

reneé rapp

ive been a fan for just under a year !! my favourite song of hers is either so what now, in the kitchen, snow angel, or moon. ive seen the sex lives of college girls 4 times (leighton murray marry me) IM SO EXCITED FOR SEASON 3. TALK TO ME ABOUT IT. PLEASE. i own the mean girls and snow angel cds, and its my dream to own one of her vinyls !! i love her so so so much, she's helped me understand myself a little better, and SHE'S SO FUCKING FUNNY AND HER VOICE IS JUST AHAJABFAJAMAN

rachel mcadams

the first movie of hers i saw was mean girls ofc, and then i decided to go on a watching spree !! my all time favourite movie of hers is 100% morning glory, but a few honourable mentions are the notebook, the vow, red eye, eurovision (don't come for me it's not good it's just funny) and game night !! ALSO HER SNL SKIT>>>

erin caldwell

been a fan since 09/05/2023, met her twice, genuinely actually saved my life. there's not much more to say really. as a scottish person, it makes me so proud to see someone like me on stage (help im getting sentimental) but seriously, erin is one of my biggest inspirations, and she's helped me develop my confidence and skills and self esteem and SHES JUST AMAZING OKAY

musical theatre

my longest interest !!! favourite shows that ive seen live are six (ive seen it 4 times, round 5 and 6 booked !! the uk tour 23/24 cast hold a very special place in my heart), heathers, come from away, everybody's talking about jamie, pretty woman, hamilton, and grease :3 my favourite shows that i wish i could see/could've seen are mean girls, the notebook, and the great gatsby !!

gravity falls

been a fan for a while :) my favourite episode is “the golf war” because I LOVE PACIFICA HONESTLY !!!! (regina and pacifica are very similar, im sensing a pattern) very very strong shipper of mabel and pacifica !!!! I NEED THE BOOK OF BILL PLS🙏

other interests include heartstopper/osemanverse, derry girls, superstore, the owl house, olly murs, chappell roan, towa bird, wednesday, descendants, dove cameron, bluey and olivia rodrigo :3

dni

homophobes, biphobes, etc. any anti lgbtq+

racists, xenophobes, etc.

transphobes, terfs, etc.

ableists

just generally don't be an asshole pls, im here to have fun, not report you for being a cunt <3

tags (starting from 16/10/2024)

#bee yaps ← shit-posts

#bee's inbox ← asks

#my girl ♡ ← stuff for/from my gf !! yes people need to know !!!!!

extras

i don't write fics or draw very often, I JUST GENUINELY HAVE NO CREATIVE TALENTS TBH !!!! but i tend to shitpost about mean girls and reneé mostly, some rachel thrown in there !!

also i frequently get the urge to change the entire theme of my blog, just go with it. i may also change my username so. but don't worry it's still me !!!!!! <3

matching blinkies with @easytobreakk <3

[greypetrel]

Distance.

Ages ago, @salsedine sent me not one but 2 prompts from this Florence prompt list. You can find the first one here for some mutual F!Mahariel/Morrigan pining, but the second one...

Big God is one of those songs I really like and always need to listen to… twice or thrice in a row. I wanted to do it good and catch the feeling and I felt like I always was going out of theme. I wrote this prompt. And re-wrote it. And re-wrote it again. Settled on an idea. Wrote it twice. Re-read it and be angry at it.

I was considering changing the character (in my mind it's an Aisling song, but MH), or making it crack, but then I read Florence talking about it, describing this song as a “obviously, an unfillable hole in the soul, but mainly about someone not replying to my text"...

… And I realize I already wrote it in one of my ten thousand iteration.

So here you go it’s angsty. Post Trespasser. AND it’s epistolary, because I wanted to try it. Maybe I’ll post the bigger version on AO3, it’s Aisling’s pov and it got discarded because it was getting LONG even for my standards. That needs an ending and some more editing, tho, so here you go in the meanwhile.

37. The best of the best and the worst of the worst CW: Mental illness, PTSD, Depression

Sometimes I think it's getting better And then it gets much worse Is it just part of the process? Jesus Christ, it hurts Big God – Florence + The Machine

Skyhold, August 27, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Just writing to check in that you got there all right. Stupid of me, since you left but… What, few hours ago?

I hope you can forgive me for organizing all this. I swear it’s not to send you away, it’s not because I don’t want you, but I don’t think staying here was doing you any good. Three days in a bed are too many, my love, I hope you can forgive me for worrying.

I am already missing you, before you can think of anything else. If you need, please know that I’m but a letter away. Ask, and I’ll come running.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold August 29, 9:44 Dragon

Hello, love.

I’m told you arrived all right and you settled in Stone-Bear Hold, and I wanted to give you a welcome myself.

Don’t take these as any pressure to reply. Take your time, I am here waiting until you’re ready.

Pet Storvacker for me as well, would you?

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, August 31, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

Nothing much happened, don’t worry. It’s all bureaucracy and I’m quite bored.

I must say that you were right, your room is indeed dauntingly big - I’m rolling my eyes at your smug grin, right now. I left all the pieces of my armour on the floor, one beside the other, to fill it a little and to recreate some mess. You can laugh. Since you’re gone it’s all too tidy, and I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 3, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

I missed yesterday, sorry about that.

I’m fine, it was just a busy day. Before you ask: yes, I’m eating regularly and I’m fine.

I think Dennet is a little bored, without you and Little Brother around. I caught him snorting grumpily at a horse that obeyed to him right away, the other day. I hope Little Brother is well, I am sure I don’t have to tell you to give him an apple from me.

Or should I? I got told you didn’t go to the stables onc  Nevermind that, you surely know better.

Love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 5, 9:44 Dragon

Is it already a week since I last saw your face? It seems a lot more.

I slept in my old loft tonight, it’s less big and daunty and I had a lot of work. It feels void anyway, without you, and whatever company there is at lunch can’t hold a candle to you, even if I appreciate it. See? I’m also eating with other people, like you’d want. It’s not really the same without you, but I’m holding on. And struggling to make these letters longer, as you’d want too.

Without you making shenanigans with Dorian and Sera, it’s all too quiet, and there’s really little to report.

Beside that I miss you.

All my love, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 7, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I hate to speak about work, particularly right now. But this bears importance to mention:

If you’re approached by Sapphira, please turn her away. She came up with a plan and… We turned her down already, Cassandra is dealing with it. Do not worry at all, but if she comes to you, please be wary, I doubt she is your friend. I doubt she was ever our friend.

I hate to write this letter with such things. My plan was for you to forget about work for a while and figure things out, and look at me. You really married the wrong person not to talk about work, I fear.

I am sorry, love. I hope you’re doing better and are more rested. I hope you can get out of bed in the morning with no problems.

If you are and you do, then missing you so much is fine.

I love you, Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 8, 9:44 Dragon

Love,

I’m making up for yesterday’s letter with a better one.

I managed to convince Cabot to give me the recipe of his scones, and to let me try it with his supervision.

I did some turns in the kitchen back when I was training, and well. I’m no baker in any way, but they didn’t turn out so bad for a first trial. I think you’d like them. And it was pleasant to do. By the time I’ll see you again I hope I’ll be better.

Maybe after I’ll learn these I’ll ask the cook to teach me to make custard, what about it?

I hope you are eating enough.

I do miss you, a lot. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 11, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

I understand you aren’t well. I understand you need time and space, all too well.

This is in no way meant as a criticism or to withdraw anything I ever professed for you. I still love you, I still want you, I have no intention of leaving you, ever if you’ll let me stay.

It’s just been a difficult night and I fear that-

I don’t know what to think of your lack of answer and it’s terror-

I’d need for you to write back, just to

Please-

Never mind that.

I wish you answered to me. Just once. Tell me you’re fine, tell me anything, really.

Please.

I shouldn’t send this.

I do love you, I do, and I wished you were fine and you were here.

C

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 12, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

Never mind the letter from yesterday.

I’m sorry I sent it, I shouldn’t dump that on you right now.

The love still stands. I’m better now. Could use a full night sleep, but this bed is just so damn big. I complained to Josephine and she laughed because apparently you told her the same thing.

She told me to say hi, maybe you’ll read this before her letters? Well. We all miss you.

Love, C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 13, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

I am so sorry-   Please, if you-   If you can bear to forgive-

I’m sorry, I really am that you’re not well and facing it alone. Before you can tell me so: no, I don’t mind listening. Please, tell me more. I hope you are really better, and it’s not something you wrote to make me feel better. Don’t lie just to spare my feelings, please, I’m better knowing.

I know you’re strong and you’ll make it through, you did so many times before and you’ll do it one more time, I trust you. Just, take it easy, please. You made the right choice and it’s good to pursue this path, even if it’s difficult and it hurts and thirsty.

You can do it. You already did it. More than once. I have not many things to believe into, right now, but I do believe in you.

I am fine.

Since when you started seeing that as a lie? I do wonder if it was exactly when you started complaining about it, or if you realised sooner. Comes to mind I never asked you.

I am surviving, I can’t say anything more than this, I am afraid.

It’s… I am so sorry. I have forced myself to read your letters just today, in truth.

Physically I am fine. I am not in pain, the wound closed well and the Healer is happy with it, says that beside the scars I have nothing to fear anymore. My balance is still off, but I trip and bump less and less. Nonetheless…

I am given things to do. I help the Augur and Sigrid Gulsdotten in their activities, and it’s good and honest work. The morning is for people, helping them out, preparing rites, picking herbs when we finish them. The afternoons the children come for lessons, and I’m more another student than a help, but the Augur doesn’t seem to mind much, and I quite like listening to the lore. I can’t but wonder if the Lady of the Sky was also a not going there.

After that is when time stops. I don’t know what to do, honestly. I lived so much out of roles and paths pre-traced for me that now that I’m out of them all I find myself in the void. Do I like the things I do because I had to, because of habit, or because I sincerely do? When I am left with nothing left to do, I don’t know anymore. I don’t know what I like and I don’t know who I am.

That’s why I haven’t replied before. It’s like… I think back of the person I was, and it doesn’t feel like I’m her anymore. I am terrorized at the idea that I’ll open those letters and they’ll all be addressed to a person that’s not me anymore. I can’t take it, right now. Thank you for having written, and thank you for not having written to her.

I miss you so much.

I miss you most at lunches: no one here can hold a candle against you, too. I miss our conversations and your friendship.

I miss you in the afternoons, because all that comes to mind is that I could curl in the corner of the couch in your office. Complain because it’s always full of boxes of reports and there’s no space. And just watch you work.

I miss you at nights the most. Sigrid is a good hugger, but she’s not you, she hasn’t your smell and she cuts the hugs always short.

Tonight I missed you so much that… Ida Sigridsdotten and Annike Majasdotten married, today. I put up a dress and smiled and helped the rites as I was asked to. But when it was over, and people started walking to the Hall for the banquet I missed you so much, I couldn’t ignore the memories. It was so unbearable that I fell back and decided to open one of your letters. Just one, I thought, I need to know who you were talking to.

It was so brief -not that I expected anything else, I know you. So I opened another. And another.

I couldn’t avoid answering your last letter, I hope you don’t mind if this is so long. It compensates for all those days of silence, I hope.

I really hope it does.

Is it ok for me to conclude this with expressing love? I am not sure who I am anymore, I don’t know what I like, but I do know that I love you. Reading your letters was a breath of fresh air. Ironical no? I get so much of it, these days.

Write to me again, if you wish.

With all the love I can muster, from exactly where I don’t know but it’s there, Aisling.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 14, 9:44 Dragon

Love.

Another calm day, full of bureaucracy.

I do hate dealing with money and calculating. You’d laugh at me and tell me it’s simple maths and do everything in five minutes.

Sometimes I still look up from my desk and expect you napping on the couch. I don’t think it did you so well, and I’m glad you’re out there doing better things, and I won’t lie: it made me feel observed. But now that you’re away, I do miss that too.

Maker, I miss your mess. Frida went through all your drawers, now they’re unbearably organized.

I do wonder: are you reading?

C.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 15, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

You would be happy in knowing I just made a fool of myself.

Your letter came, and I just took it and ran away without realizing, leaving apparently Josephine and a trio of Comtes who lent us money and were discussing of reparations standing in the Great Hall, mid speech.

If I don’t answer anymore, Josie came for my head.

Now, with order.

I am afraid you never were much of a liar, my love. I realised you weren’t fine as you told it the first time in Haven, you have always worn your heart on your sleeve. Honestly? I liked that in you from the start. I only hope this new you still has it, it was endearing and soothing. But if you don’t feel like that anymore, it’s fine anyway. But please, don’t lie to me. No need for it.

I wish you were here too, but I don’t think you’d like being here. For the rest, I’m fine. Really. It was just a bad night. I’m better now that I heard from you.

As for the rest, I can think of a couple of things you like: magic and animals. You love horses. Maker knows you worried me so and busied Josie enough to make you presentable again after the stables to like horses out of duty. What about it?

Answer, if you’d like. I understand if you don’t. I’ll keep the love with gladness.

All my love, Cullen

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 17, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Please don’t let Josie reach you. Or if she did, hello Josie, can I have his cape back to remember him by?

Thank you, love   Cull   my love. It all brought a smile, and it was something I needed. That was a lovely long letter, please keep it up, I appreciated it so much.

I don’t want to see horses. My balance is still off when I’m walking and I would hurt myself on a horse, for real. And I don’t think I could   And I would hate to see you smug with a “I told you so”.

But yeah, I guess so. I pet Storvacker whenever she comes around, and it’s nice, she’s very beautiful and such a good creature. I think she remembers I saved her, but maybe it’s just wishful thinking. How’s Bran? Is he keeping you good company, did he learn to duck and not fetch?

The children hijacked the lesson, today, when the topic fell on Hakkon Wintersbreath. We went overtime because the kept asking me about the dragons I slayed, if it was true. Someone out there had spread the rumour I dealt with the three in the Emprise all at once? I had to struggle to convince them it didn’t happen like that, and they were even more disappointed than when I told them that slaying dragons is just a sad thing to do and I hated doing it.

Oh, there’s one thing I hate. Does it count?

I do love you, and I miss you a little less now that I’m writing back. Thank you for being so patient with me. I do love you, a lot. You’re one thing I really like.

Are you feeling better? For real.

Say that I’m sorry   hello to the others from me.

A.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 19, 9:44 Dragon

My love,

It does count, and I think it goes into the liking animals box. Anything else? I remember you were quite fond of swimming, if I recall correctly our first visit to Honnleath and our last one in Wycome. What about it? If you can catch a sunny day, the water should still be warm enough to bathe.

And sweets. Do they have something sweet to eat? Should I ship down there your candy stash?

Bran is fine, and is keeping me good company, thanks. He misses you too, but I’ve been fairly successful in teaching him not to sleep where you should be on the bed. Now he sleeps at my feet and I have to curl up. He still fetches, but we’re working on that too.

I am feeling better, I swear. For real, I took it easier in the last days and delegated some.

I firmly believe you wouldn’t fall if you tried to ride. I saw you. Maybe don’t start with a gallop, ease yourself in? I am sorry if I insist, but please, don’t let fear stop you. You love riding and you love that horse. And I’m sure he misses you too. And I’m not saying that to pressure you, but because you always light up when you talk about horses and about Little Brother, and I’m sure he misses you too. But it’s ok, ignore this paragraph if it bothers you, you surely know best what’s good for you.

Everyone says hello. There are various recommendations of hugs, and get well soon and missing you and a choir of “Horns up” from the Chargers and Dorian.

I second the missing, and the horns up too.

C.

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 25, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling,

I am sorry if I told you something wrong.

Please, ignore the last letter.

Little Brother is well taken care of, safe as can be, and I recommend to give him extra apples and extra cuddles. Do not worry about him, love, and please forgive me if I insisted.

If I see another Comte pretending we borrowed money from him without papers to demonstrate it I swear I’m throwing them down the battlements. Bran growling at him had been a nice addition to the group. Josie too gave him a biscuit for his good job.

I happily announce you that I have a recipe for custard and a successful attempt to my record. It was good, I’m waiting for the first lemons to try it properly and try to make it as you like it.

I do miss you, love, and I worry. Forgive me if I said the wrong thing.

I do love you even if you’ll never ride again. Cullen

---

Skyhold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Aisling.

You know what?

Fuck the Comtes.

Josie and Cassandra can hold their own for a while.

Wait for me.

C.

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 28, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen.

I’m sorry. Again. I really am.

I was angry at first. And hurt. The thought of not riding again… I have been scraped clean of so much, that the idea of realizing that I had given away that too was unbearable, even in theory. You were right in insisting, because yes. I do love horses not out of duty.

Spirits, or whatever power there is in this world, how many weeks of waking up before the dawn I did back in Haven, because I didn’t want a mount out of duty and out of a choice made for me, but I wanted that horse? With you, it’s the one thing I don’t want to give up on, and you reminded me I had to.

But you were right. – I miss your smug smile, now, I would so much love to be able to kiss it away.

After two days of being angry, I decided to go to camp out of spite.

I hate how people there can’t talk to me and the pity there. I should thank you for organizing my stay with the Avvar, it was… It was what I needed.

Anyway.

Little Brother was, indeed, angry. I can’t hardly blame him. I know how he’s feeling.

I stood there in the paddock, as in the first days. He ignored me for hours. And then he approached me. Bumped me to the ground with his head.

I deserved it, poor thing. I left him on his own for a month. And I know he must have felt abandoned and… And nobody should feel like that.

I cried for the first time in a month, and we cuddled.

You were right, my love. It did me well.

I think I’ll get back in the afternoons.

I never answered to you about magic and… I’m not using much magic. I’ve been seeing Desperation again in my dreams. Nothing much, I’m still here and I’m fine, both the Augur and Sigrid are aware. The Augur has been very helpful. I’m telling you because it may help you too.

He says that for all negative spirits we attract, there’s a good one too. The good one is lingering around, we just need to see it, even if it’s a little more difficult to tune down the noise of the other.

I feel mine: there’s Cole around, lingering at the edge of my vision. He hasn’t approached me yet, but I feel him, always there. At the ready should I… Well, I do need him. But I need him from afar.

I’m not yet ready to face head-on what happened, and facing him would mean that.

But I’m writing you from the stable, forgive the wobbly calligraphy. I hope you can still read it, but my desk is furry and breathing. I couldn’t take his head away from my legs, and I don’t want to. He needed this, and so do I.

I stopped crying, but I think I’ll get back at it in some minutes. It’s good for me, and I missed it too.

I feel hopeful today.

Thank you for pushing me to come here.

Thank you for knowing me better than I do. I needed that. I still do.

I will be ready to see Cole and talk with him. Eventually.

I think I’ll try to hop on Little Brother, tomorrow.

I should probably stop writing. I do miss you keenly, right now, and I wish you were here. Do not fret here, tho: you have work to do and I don’t want to distract you any more than I’m already doing, love.

I am fine. I’m not lying.

Please do not worry, and remember that I love you. Even if you make me angry at times.

I love you and I miss you, and I hope I’ll dream of you tonight, and that it’ll be a nice memory. It’s not that hot to swim, unfortunately, but I’ll be able to dream of when we did in Wycome.

Love, quite a lot of it even if it smells like horse, Aisling

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 29, 9:44 Dragon

Cullen,

Nothing much to add since yesterday, honestly.

I just wanted you to be the first to know: I am waiting for Little Brother to be saddled. I need to find a way to do it myself, but-

*the rest is written in a calligraphy even less readable and clear than the rest, clearly scribbled very quickly.*

You must be kidding- Who am I writing to, I’m telling you directly.

Spirits, you’re so sappy it’s lucky I love you.

Or not, the lucky one is definitely me.

Here? Really? With all those reports?

Ok I’m done, I’m asking you.

---

---

Stone-Bear Hold, Kingsway 30, 9:44 Dragon

Hiding this in your boot as you sleep, if you won’t notice when you’ll put it up tomorrow, know that it’s the reason I smiled at you. Well, one of the reasons, not the only one and not the most important. But still.

Nothing much, I just wanted to say thank you, and reiterate that you’re impossible and stubborn and totally the fun police. And that I love you because you are.

Thank you, really.

A.

[slicedmayonnaise]

Okay, Slice n Dice, I'm gonna rant, enjoy :3 (good luck)

When I first started reading WTE I was in an, "I'm not too big a fan of modern aus" mindset, and decided not to read it when I first saw it (Ford's top ten biggest mistakes).

One day, I was sitting on the floor, my third cup of iced coffee in my hand and Markiplier's rdr2 playthrough on my laptop and I thought to myself, "I wonder what WTEs about.." So I went back to good ol' ao3 and took a deeper look, aka read the first few chapters, oh my god did I regret not reading it sooner. I have a hard time immersing myself in stories because I get distracted so easily, but I was so immersed in the entire thing, that I could finally see in my tiny brain what was happening and it made me love the story even more.

After WTE I read BAE....hhhh I loved BAE....I ACTUALLY CRIED AT POINTS IN THOSE STORIES </3

Anyway, after WTE I didn't stop thinking about it, kinda just stared at my wall for half an hour looking confused, ik I'm going to do that exact thing once Washed Up is done, and I ain't complaining.

It actually took me a bit to read Washed Up too, after WTE I needed a break because I couldn't find any stories that matched how good it was, and for some reason, I didn't look at Washed Up which was literally created by the same person </333333 (I'm a little dumb)

When I'm hyperfixated on smth I get hyperfixated on things in that smth (like Javier) and I got hyperfixated on WTE (but I didn't draw fanart, which disappoints me) so that's another reason I didn't read Washed Up right away, I actually read WTE twice.

So I FINALLY started Washed Up and yeah that was the best thing I've ever done. Actually, this story might be one of the best fics I've ever read, I just absolutely love the slow burn that wasn't too short to be like, "What just happened?" and wasn't too long to make me get bored of the story, but in every chapter, I might've asked, "are they gonna kiss?"...

And the characters, omg, I actually didn't expect Vincente to turn out how he did, I love this version of him. and Eddie.......hhhhhhh Eddie.......I love Eddie...AND FLACO, WHEN I WAS READING THE TAGS I GOT SO SURPRISED THAT BRO WAS IN IT THAT EVERY TIME A NEW CHARACTER WAS INTRODUCED (without knowing their name ofc) I WAS LIKE, "Flaco?"

My reaction to when he showed up was priceless.

Okay, this rant went really off track-

I love how you sort of mixed like rdr canon into the story, but with your own like twist, yk, which is pretty much what the whole story is but you get what I mean (I hope-)

And Javier..oh poor Javier, he really won't like water now, or boats...sigh poor Javier </3

THE GIRLS TOO, I AM SO GLAD THEY WERE SAVED!!!!

Okay, this is getting really long I don't want to overwhelm you.

But just know, I love your story so much, I wish I had given it a chance right away because now it is one of my favorite things ever, and I hope you will write more in the future, speaking of the future I'm so excited for that spinoff with Flaco and Eddie.....so excited...

But thank you, for opening my eyes to a surfing au that I never expected to like so much, it didn't make me want to start surfing but that's okay cause I'm afraid of oceans.

AND I SWEAR I WILL DRAW WASHED UP FANART, I NEED IT IN MY LIFE, I JUST NEED AN IDEA, AND THEN WE'RE LOCKED IN!!!!!!

Okay, this was so long, oopsies-

THANK YOU <33333333

I was literally smiling like an idiot the entire time reading this oh my god. My cheeks hurt from smiling. I may or may not have also cried a little. Thank you thank you so so much oh my god 😭😭😭 <3<3<3<3<3<3 like idek what to say

I'm so so glad you like my fics and the way I write and like just thank you so much for all the feedback like idk what to say just thank you so so much. You have just made my entire year if not my entire life <3<3<3<3<3<3 thank you thank you!!!

[a-very-fond-farewell]

hello!!! i hope i'm not too late to ask about your original fiction wips!!! would love to hear more about them if you're comfortable with sharing 6: their titles are so suave!

ah! you do know how to prod where it hurts most xD (affectionate)! thank you for asking dear, you’re not too late at all! and also thank you for all the kind comments/tags/etc. that you sprinkled throughout my notifications today :D they really made my Saturday more bearable and I hope you are doing well yourself!

(more under the cut)

.

so. it’s not my first rodeo. I have written original fiction in the past but I was always unsatisfied with it and these 2 bad bois are no exception even if they are in their planning/draft phase.

mária of the moon (the ‘seas’ of the moon) is too personal for me to delineate in detail, bc it should be set in a city where I used to live in for a while so I can’t be too specific about that. but it’s basically the story of an unnamed and lonely narrator who steals someone else’s identity in order to be welcomed inside someone else’s home, where their weird little found family comes in. it’s inspired by a curious incident my mother told me about once or twice and, even if it will not be based on it specifically, it got me thinking for a long while.

the title is a play on words with the name Maria, but in the ‘maria’ of the title the accent is placed on the first syllable rather than the second one, as if to imply that sometimes a shift in perspective is needed in order to move on with the plot. it’s also a reference to a literary trope in my country’s history that traces back to the renaissance, where it’s believed that lost things happen to land on the moon somehow. since the majority of the lunar seas are gathered on the visible side of the moon, it may be appropriate to wonder if someone named Maria has gone missing and if they have, have they landed on the moon? or maybe their name has?

it’s a story about gender identity and grief, about lies and new families too. but also, somehow, about lobsters. and sculptures. angels and taxidermy. hallucinations and burnout. there’s magical realism and insanity. it’s a lot. I’ve mapped the plot in its entirety but I feel like I’m never alone and this kind of work requires a lot of self-isolation, I think, something I can’t afford right now and possibly wouldn’t handle too well if I really think about it. also, idk in which language I should write it: my native language or English. which is a problem bc I’m tempted to write both versions myself, but that requires even more time and I simply don’t have that right now.

Secular Games is far more difficult to approach. it’s something I came up with a couple of years ago while studying for an Ancient Roman History exam, in order to remember some dates, but now it’s mapped out and sometimes I still think about it xD

it’s set in 17BC and it’s the story of a legitimate (fictional) child of emperor Augustus with his first wife Claudia. in reality, the marriage has probably never been consummated and Claudia was very young at the time of their union. but in this scenario the marriage did result in an offspring even if Claudia was sent back to her family in the end, so that Augustus (then known as Octavian) could marry someone else. there are other circumstances surrounding Claudia’s family that explain the situation a bit better, but in the context of this project her child would grow not knowing of their true lieneage until something very dramatic happens to them and they swear revenge towards the man who caused so much suffering to them and their young mother by sending her back home long ago.

the main plot would then proceed to be framed by the Secular Games, a religious celebration that (through 3 days of sacrifices and games) allowed the entire population of Rome to celebrate the coming of a new era every 110 years or so. one of such celebrations was held in 17BC. our protagonist would find themselves traveling to Rome in order to get their revenge, but in order to do so they have to disguise themselves and join a group of misfits to reach their destination. each person has their agenda and reason to be there at that particular time, all coming from different social levels and whatnot, and even if the main focus of their adventure will see its climax in those fated 3 days.. I want their bond to be established in their journey to the capital somehow.

problem for this project being: I need a ton of research. like. a TON. it would not be 100% historically accurate, but I still want to do a somewhat decent job. language is also an issue here, bc i don’t think writing in English is the right way to approach this ambitious project. the main issue is.. this is a very immersive work. I need to eat and breath nothing but ancient Roman history for, possibly, 2 years for this to come to light. which is not ideal. maybe I’ll come back to it, maybe I’ll drop it, but for now I call dibs on this xD

.

thank you so much for your ask :D I hope you have a lovely weekend! see u soon :)

[please do not reblog or share]

[oonajaeadira]

ADIRA DID U WATCH THE FIRST EP OF TLOU

Hey there, frand!

I didn't actually play the game--I am not really good at games that require a lot of stealth and aim. Add in a horror element and I lock up real hard. But my SO played it and I watched a good portion of that. And then when I heard Pedro got the role I watched the cut scenes. @something-tofightfor clued me in that a lot of the story actually takes place during the gameplay, that there's a lot of things said or done that really cement the characters' bond, so I watched an entire playthrough. (I also watched a TLOU II playthrough, but I have a lot of issues with it, so if I ever write fic, that second one will not exist for me.)

So I knew what was going on. And it's been really fun having folks around me at all levels of experience with these characters. The SO has spent hours with them in the game (and I believe he's played it twice), and my BFF knows almost nothing. Hearing both of their reactions to the first episode has been very interesting. And, of course, knowing how much this show overlaps loves for Rachael (something-tofightfor) and watching her enjoy this all come to life has been a fkn joy.

My own reaction? Has been puzzling. Thank you for asking my opinion, because it gives me a moment to dissect and figure out why I'm feeling the way I am.

I will start off by saying that I love the show. I love the aesthetic and the acting. I love the changes they made and think there are some clever enhancements to the story. I wasn't looking forward to Tess but I am surprised at how much I love her character in this show and how much her character enhances both Joel and Ellie's. Bella of course is brilliant and is Ellie.

Weirdly, the issue I'm having is with Pedro. Kind of.

(cut for minor spoils)

He is rocking it. He is amazing. Like everyone says, he is doing award-worthy work.

But I'm not connecting. I'm not falling in love. And I can't figure out why.

Possibility: this is the first time I've gotten to witness so much behind the scenes stuff while the show was being filmed while I was also a fan that maybe I'm having trouble separating Pedro the actor from Joel the character.

Possibility: I've been waiting so long for this that nothing can possibly match the expectations I've built up.

Possibility: Maybe I should have gone in with less knowledge and let myself be moved organically.

Possibility: I knew that they'd have to make Joel more vulnerable, but I didn't realize just how very broken this version of him would be. And it makes me S A D. Maybe because we saw so much of him in 2003 that the hard switch to this very numb man holding onto his pain feels so far beyond the reach of the heart that I can't find a softness foothold in him and I just slide off him. At least game Joel had the tiniest bit of confidence and sparkle at the beginning--and he needed to be that in order to move through the game. But Pedro's Joel is just barely surviving. And it hurts. And it's brilliant.

And it's this last possibility--if I know myself--that I'm assuming. Because I know what's coming. And I know that Ellie will wear away at that numb exterior and reveal those footholds. Just like Din, Pedro's gonna start us off with someone impenetrable and then show cracks under stress, cracks that let the light through. Just like Din, I will find Joel amazing and compelling at first, someone I love to watch but don't hook into...until the armor comes off and the heart is revealed and then I'm gonna fall really R E A L L Y hard.

And this may be why I'm not drawn to any of the fanfic just yet. I am a soft, soft girl and I can't just go straight to the sex. Especially not the hard sex. I am not someone that wants a dude to treat me rough and dominate me or treat me like a toy or object, I don't want to be the receptacle for hate or anger or pure stress relief without emotional connection. Nor can my heart handle pure, concentrated angst without the possibility of it paying off toward a happy or hopeful ending. (SPOILER: Yes, I know where this show is going, and I still find emotional hope and happiness in the ending. It counts.) And the Joel we know right now seems built for those preferences. To all those writers and readers, I am beyond thrilled for you because fk, Joel is Fertile Ground™. (This is kind of the opposite of me just rolling in the soft gold that Javi G gave us 😂)

But I do love that this Joel is custom built for a more mature girl and reader characters of his age range. I will echo Rachael's opinions that with his paternal instincts toward very young women, I don't think he's an age-gap kind of guy. And neither will he put up with anything less than common sense. And I find that very, very attractive.

What I can't fall in love with is someone devoid of emotion or someone saturated only with sorrow. My heart isn't built that way.

Thankfully, I know that Joel will evolve.

And I really really can't wait to see the scene that opens up and swallows me. That's what I'm excited for. This series has expanded on the story and adjusted Joel just enough that I don't know when that's going to happen or how intensely....and I'm so looking forward to it.

In that way, it's not a problem at all. I kind of love that I'm not falling for Joel just because it's Pedro.

And I think that is the stamp on his talent. That even thought I love our boy, he has done such a phenomenal job at bringing me away from that love and back to the starting line with Joel, starting his character not at an easy place where we love him already, but one that has to be earned.

I think....I think Pedro might break me really hard with this one....

Okay. I'm gonna go cry now.

[sydnycvwrtes]

congratulations on getting an agent! that’s amazing 🎉 do you mind sharing your querying journey (what was it all like? when you started, how many queries you sent, how many full requests, and other stats? things you expected about querying? things you didn’t expect? lessons you learned? etc?)? just whatever you feel like sharing 😊

Yes!

So tbh I feel like I both had an easier but longer journey. I didn't send too too many queries (in contrast to some folks) but I was querying for a long time. I started when I was 18 for reference, so I queried for almost four years exactly (3 years and 352 days lol) but I took long pauses to overhaul the novel between query batches based on any feed back I'd gotten. I sent queries in batches of 4-6 and didn't send more until I'd gotten responses from everyone from one batch.

So:

33 queries sent (I resent edited queries to the same agents 4 times which feels a little 🧍🏿‍♀️)

6 partial requests (quick bit of advice: different agents have different specific ways they want you submit. It might be annoying to reformat everything, but just do it)

4 full requests (and let me tell you, when I sent fulls to "famous" agents, I was waiting for upwards of half a year, which can also account for the time gap)

1 offer of rep (woohoo!!!!) from an agent I feel really understands my vision for the book, and will be a great representative for me when sub time comes. For revisions, I'm not having to change any plot points, just explain a little bit more stuff so they're not too grueling. Plus I write super fast and that helps lol.

I think querying for so long definitely toughened me up. I was really expecting for the first agent I queried, who I considered a dream agent at the time, to adore my book, sign me immediately, and offer no critiques before we went on sub for three seconds and scored a billion dollar deal (and I queried her TWICE because I was just that hooked up on it lmao). As you can see, that didn't happen. I got some rejections after months, and some after only a few hours. And at the begining? Oh they HURT. They hurt BAD.

And then you get another and another and another, and the sting lessens over time.

I became a lot better at being critical of myself, which I feel like is the most important skill in querying- understanding that you are going to have to make heavy edits, kill your darlings, and just overall refine you book in ways you didn't see before. Even the version I sent to the agent I signed with was far from perfect, and I'm making revisions. And that's okay. It's a step to getting published.

It... Was hard. I had a friend tell me it was just not the right time for my book and to shelve it. I think that hurt more than a rejection. But I knew I wanted to be an author, and I knew I wanted to tell these character's stories, so I just kept working. I rewrote my book more times than I can count since I started writing it at 15. It's just all a very long process, and you have to be patient, and you have to KNOW that this is what you want to do and you're going to do it.

Last weird little tidbits of advice:

I had one person read a very old copy of my book. I had no beta readers. I never hired an editor. Don't do what I did. Beta readers can help you so so much. If you can find someone willing, have them help you!!!

Query that agent! I almost didn't query my agent because they said they were a fan of beautiful prose, and I didn't think I had that. But, after mustering the courage, I finally did and look what happened. Just send the query!! The worst they can say is no!!

If you get personalized feedback from a rejection, that is still really helpful. My book is better now mostly because of my rejection feedback because it was all telling me the exact thing to work on. For me, the writing was fine, but I tended to under-explain things. I got that feedback.... A lot. And I was able to fix it and eventually get an agent (woo!)

(even though my revisions are still centered around explaining oops-)

Anyway, I hope this was helpful! I hope I was able to give you a pretty good picture of my querying time! It was... Definately something!

[smol-grey-tea]

Last night I dreamt about making this post about Tei so I just had to start writing it.

In the dream I was talking about how Tei's character is an interesting one with wasted potential. I don't know if I'd go as far as to call it that in real life though because I don't think this was the point of his story but it would've been nice to have seen it hinted.

It was about Tei's OCD. It was much more pronounced in my dream but it's still true that Tei having OCD is a headcanon I've had for him for a very long time. I'm going to be talking about mental health/mental illness in this post as well as some disturbing stuff so watch out for that-

OCD is like the brain's way of trying to feel a sense of control over things that are not actually in your control. Think of superstitions like "step on a crack, break your mother's back" but taken more to an extreme and taken more seriously: "turn the lights on and off 10 times or your family will die in a car crash".

I think that an illness like this would make sense for dolls turned human, since they've spent so long being unable to move or do anything, but especially for Tei, in the way that his trauma is more related to the fact he didn't do something he wished he could, plus the whole obsession of cleanliness that began even way before the actual traumatic event.

In the dream I also talked about compulsions of his. I thought he would definitely have compulsions surrounding his knee, probably obsessively picking at the scar, touching it all the time, scratching it, making it worse.

Another compulsion I'm sure he'd have is mental compulsions, even before he became human. Mostly just cuz of the fact that that's the way his OCD would manifest as a doll and he'd of course carry that into his human life too.

Thirdly I believe he'd try and live his life under strict routine. If he deviates from it it's incredible bad luck and he'd probably double up on his compulsions to fix that bad luck. Of course, he feels constantly dirty and disgusting so I think it makes sense that he'd have so many compulsions surrounding cleanliness, probably showering as much as twice a day and scrubbing so hard he rubs his skin red raw.

I myself don't have proper OCD but I guess I have a kind of smaller version of it? I don't have obsessions or fears like that but I do for example have mental compulsions like drawing a shape in my head and I used to have a compulsion where I'd lock bathroom doors multiple times. That one's still kinda there but I don't do it as often now.

As for Tei's obsessions/fears I acknowledge that his wanting to hurt Eri is less of an obsession and more of an actual desire? Usual OCD obsessions are fears that you might do something, not an actual desire to. I'm not sure then whether that truly counts as an obsession for him then but I'd say he'd probably more obsess on other people hurting her and such.

I think that's all? I don't think he'd tell anyone else about it but I do hope that in the good end Eri persuades him to seek professional help and get better about it :) cuz I have finally and I'm feeling better and better every single day!!! ^^

[bi-bats]

ok so. long list, you can pick and choose, yknow the drill. im a curious person. anyways!!! for the ask game: 7, 10, 25, 26, 35, 43, 48, 65, and Get It Together, Boys for 76, please! <3 <3 <3

Bean, you are such a gift 💖 We all know I'm going to answer all of these, both for you and because they're fun!!!

7. How do you choose which POV to write from?

The POV chooses me actually 😂 it's never really something I consciously decide? There's usually just someone whose inner dialogue I think we need to be hearing the most and that's usually the POV I slide to (which has also backfired on me before, because when I wrote the first chapter of the chokehold damitim fic it wasn't supposed to be damitim at all but being in Damian's perspective made me realize it had to be adkjfadsjkfl I'm gonna have to stay out of Damian's perspective in the jaytim version tbh)

10. Cltr+f "blinks" on your WIP & copy paste the first sentence/paragraph that comes up

The damitim fic is actually literally the only fic with unposted content that has the word blinks in it?? This is from the next chapter:

Tim looks up at him, rolls his eyes in a flash of green, and sighs, “Jesus, Damian. I’m an adult, I can cross the street without you holding my fucking hand.”  Damian blinks at him once, twice, and then he moves. He walks around Tim, leaving him in front of the bed, and feels Tim’s eyes on him as he makes his way to the microwave and pulls out his dinner.

25. What fic do you wish you got more of a response on?

What Are You Waiting For? Honestly I just love the way it flows and the writing, but also it isn't finished and I haven't updated it in like two months so I'm not really surprised lmao

26. Which of your fics would you call your wildest ride?

probably Non-Refundable Plans because the way it keeps bouncing from funny to serious and also all of the unhinged behavior from everyone all around 😂 I would make an argument for Rooftops and Bookshops because of the before and after, but I also hate the writing in that fic now. Seriously, it's one of my least favorite works now.

What I can tell you is that the fic that will be the wildest ride is Know Yourself. No doubt in my mind.

35. What is one essential thing to remember when writing a villain? 

The villain HAS TO HAVE A GOOD REASON FOR DOING WHAT THEY'RE DOING!!!! This is SO important to me. "Every villain is the hero of their own story" NO. NO THEY AREN'T. THEY DON'T NEED TO BE! SOME VILLAINS ARE TOTALLY FINE BEING THE VILLAIN AND I LOVE THAT FOR THEM!! IT'S ACTUALLY ONE OF MY FAVORITE TROPES "YOU WANT ME TO BE THE BAD GUY? FINE." LIKE YESDSSSDDFSDFAJFJK AS LONG AS THEY CAN JUSTIFY THEIR ACTIONS TO THEMSELVES THAT IS A GOOD VILLAIN. WE JUST NEED TO UNDERSTAND WHY THEY'RE DOING WHAT THEY'RE DOING.

43. Do you take a sadistic joy in whumping your characters, or are you more the "If you hurt them I would kill everyone and then myself" kind of person?

Oh, I saw this question and was like "there's no way anyone doesn't know the answer to this." 😂 I whump them to death daily. I whump them for breakfast, I whump them at work, I whump them while I'm sleeping. I'm actually whumping them rn in my head tbh 💖 Sadistic joy. It's like a stim toy to me.

48. What do you look for in a beta?

Someone who's going to be honest! Point out my typos, tell me if phrasing is clunky or doesn't work, tell me if a CHUNK of writing isn't necessary and needs to go. I want to make it better. But it is also lovely to hear the things that work! I basically love a beta who points out the things they like just as much as the things they don't (which doesn't necessarily mean it has to be an even mix instead of one more than the other, I just think of it like an art critique)

65. Tell us about what you’re most looking forward to writing – in your current project, or a future project

I'm looking forward to GETTING MY SHIT TOGETHER ON THE KONBART FIC I REALLY WANT TO FINISH IT AJKSDFALSK I LOVE WRITING BART AND I LOVE WRITING KON AND I LOVE WRITING THEM BEING IN LOVE

76. Did you have any ideas that didn’t make the final cut of Get It Together, Boys? 

I wrote that fic in like three days aksdjflaks honestly not really? But looking back at it, I would've really liked to dig into their book club a little! It would've been fun to show some of their conversations about books.

Thank you thank you thank you Bean 💖 I hope you enjoyed the responses!!

[juniestar]

I can't bring myself to care about my family because it hurts too much. I think there's something very sexual about wasabi peas. I took photos on a set today and yesterday and got some good ones. My friend and I discussed the possibility of becoming high class escorts and came to the conclusion that we don't want to do it but do want to do all the prep that someone listed in a quora answer: focusing on being in shape and healthy, enriching our minds, practicing flattering makeup looks, and finding flattering outfits in varying themes. I want to start going on hour long walks. I want to start using crest whitestrips. I wonder if I'm borderline but I'm also somewhat slowly reading a paper on how a lot of women are misdiagnosed as borderline when they've actually got C-PTSD. I think if I had either I'd be borderline though, but maybe that's because it's easier to be "hopeless" than not. I get to the point of screaming like a banshee everytime I fight with my family and feel sick afterwards. I sometimes wish they'd never existed so I wouldn't feel so twisted up inside, I sometimes miss them but only the versions of them I knew as a small child. I tell people I'm allergic to coffee but I'm not sure that's true, all I know is I can drink tea with caffeine but I get nauseous and shaky when I drink coffee. Part of me wants to transcribe this in my journal, as this is how I've been writing later entries, but the other part of me thinks writing the exact same thing twice is disingenous and writing it slightly differently (ie this being the first draft and the handwritten one being the second) breaks continuity. I saw a man on the internet who posts short comics with no real panels and it inspired me to draw some of my own but I've got no good sketchbook so I'm just sitting. I'm going to try and commit to becoming really conventionally attractive because at this moment I'm scraping by on a striking face and an occasional good skincare routine with no care for anything else.

[lordofthestrix]

Addressing the ever talented Jules and my occasional oddball words. First of all and I won't even try to deny it: Yes. I read one too many historical novels taking place all over the eras. But this is a behind the scenes on what I try to do with Tristan and why. Sometimes I enjoy the results. Other times I'm the first to admit it remains a work in progress. Rule 1: Purpose. Example: Tristan casually refers to Elijah as his old chum in canon. We all heard the word once or twice, sure. Is it in common usage? Yes and no? Not exactly? It is...A tad more old-fashioned and more specific than some variants. Tristan knows what pal, buddy and mate mean. Why use chum then? My answer is that it summons a very specific image. It was once university slang. It immediately makes you think of "I met this person back when I was already myself but not fully myself yet." It adds an element to it. It paints the right mental picture. That's something I try to keep in mind. Avoid making it gratuitous. If Tristan is utilizing a specific word instead of the obvious alternative there is a reason for it. Even if the reason can be as simple as amusing himself while he speaks. Rule 2: Not from anywhere and not to anyone. Example: Tristan using "How absolutely darling!" to derisively mock Jackson in canon. So mentioning the obvious: There is definitely a preference for upper crust phrasings and articulations. That's what Tristan would be the most exposed to. But this also goes hand in hand with his different voices for different people and this is where I possibly make poor Jules suffer with my less successful cases of experimentation. I freely confess: There are tones for Tristan that I only played with in my answers to you. Because Aurora gets a much more unfiltered version of his inner thoughts. Not only that but there are tones only Rory inspires. While a ruler-like "I can destroy your enemies if you make it worth my while." is common enough, his sister gets the sometimes subtle but very different paradigm of a much more knightly "I will slay anyone who dares to hurt you and it is most definitely personal." There is also what I affectionately refer to as "Bohemian Tristan" that only mysteriously appears when she is around. Rule 3: A flair for the dramatic. By his own admission. This mostly involves inflection and emphasis but it also relates to his choice of words. I progressively turned him into a bit of a storyteller under the right circumstances. To the point where I think he sometimes envisions history as a story he is telling...Himself? Someone else? I prefer not to expose all my cards in a single post and leave that open to interpretation for now. I'm not sure if I can fully justify it within the canon material but in my defense I explored Tristan a lot longer than the show. There are all sorts of other little elements I try to take into consideration. The fact that while most vampires live surrounded by contemporary mortals Tristan associates himself with quite a large group of immortals from different time periods... I don't know. I should stop. I suspect I turned this into one of my morning rambles and I don't know how to put an end it at this point. I adore writing with you. Thank you for enduring me!

🎤 Let's see...I should consult my virtuous side. What's the least self-absorbed and rampantly egoistical question I could possibly make? What are your thoughts, feelings and/or opinions on our interactions?

🎤 ⸻ VOICE MEME. using this site, send me *voice* or 🎤 and a question, regarding the character(s), the mun or anything and I will make an audio about it.

[ekleipsi]

" always? " word was spoken on a shaky breath, eyes narrowed in confusion as his head shook. it wasn't a question seeking approval, but rather, explanation-- he didn't understand, couldn't understand. but perhaps he was still simply too young for that. / cai

--- With the intention to turn and go, to dedicate himself to the greater good and serving others, ensuring the world moved at a comfortable pace and did not destroy itself, that humans did not walk to disaster and see void? How could he turn that opportunity down. Didn’t Ignis have a similar calling as well, save for one that was managed on the other side of death? If anything, their fates were intertwined; Mordecai guiding a soul to death while lover managed said soul to his appropriate place of rest or punishment. 

--- But hound was here, now. With him...which meant it was a duty he had shunned, one he wanted no part of and for his own life, angel couldn’t understand why he’d turned his back on it. It wasn’t his place to ask or question, however. ‘ Always. ‘ he repeated the word, and while he’d already placed kisses upon the others cheek and forehead, while he’d already turned to go, he paused at the shakiness in breath. The confusion in tone. 

--- ‘ You’re lonely when I’m gone. ‘ he said quietly, putting aside another handful of moments to spend with the other. The bells rung in the distance- the hound wouldn’t hear of course, but angel certainly did, and ethereal bell rung only for divine. Palm lifted to cup tanned cheek, thumb brushing along the surface; he didn’t want this to be a break up- he sincerely wanted canine to understand and to be accepting, but. It was a lot to ask someone, to constantly wait for you. 

--- It was even more to ask that of someone who sought companionship. ‘ You think...I’m abandoning you? ‘ he asked, quietly, a brow lofted as he tipped his head. It was hard to explain that love, and duty were not quite comparable- that you could fulfill your duty and still love someone...but the two weren’t always compatible when partner needed you. 

--- A soft sigh, curling his arms around the others neck and pulling lover into his shoulder. Fingers lifted to trail through tinted locks, gently scratching over scalp and pressing kisses to temple, to ears until he pulled Ignis’ face away by cupping his jaw, pressing a long and lingering kiss to his lips. He didn’t understand, and the jinn couldn’t make him understand at this juncture in time. ‘ I promise you, as I said. I will always come back, Ig. I will always come back, just as I will always love you with the entirety of my heart. As sure as the son rises in the East, and sets in the West, I will love you. ‘ it was a solemn and sweet promise, fluttering lips placed over jaw with a small exhale. 

--- ‘ For now, though...I have tasks to complete. My duty doesn’t mean I don’t love you, but when your duty is to ensure the world...the world is a better place. I cannot shirk that. As much as I would love to stay here, with you, forever? I can’t abandon the world to suffer for one life. Even one I love. ‘ it felt sad, to put it in to words, and heart weighed heavily with his expression of them. Nonetheless, he stood and turned away, digits staying in contact with warm skin for as long as possible until they...dropped away, and fiery golden wings manifested against his back in a flash of searing light. 

[nationalharryleague]

Two for the Show

Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that. 

Genre: Famous Fake Dating! 

Word Count: 17.1k!

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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries​) and Lu (@meetmymouth​) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)

***

Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.

If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.

But this time, she thought they might be going too far.

“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”

“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”

His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.

But something kept holding her back.

“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”

“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”

That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.

In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.

“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”

“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”

A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”

“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.

Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.

“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.

***

The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.

She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.

If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.

She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.

She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.

She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.

When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.

And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.

The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.

To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.

She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.

But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.

“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.

She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.

He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.

“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”

“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.

“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”

From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.

Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”

His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.

She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.

She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.

“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”

“How so?”

“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.

His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.

“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”

“I see,” she mused.

They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.

Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.

Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.

“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.

“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.

Y/N  looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.

She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.

“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”

***

They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.

All was going according to Jeff’s plan.

Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.

She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.

Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.

Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.

It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.

Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour

She was honestly speechless. This was huge.

She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.

She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.

The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.

But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.

It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.

Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.

The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.

She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.

It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.

I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.

His response came only seconds later.

Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?

She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.

I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.

She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.

People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.

Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.

Really good job, kiddos.

Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.

@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.

***

The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.

While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.

She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.

Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.

She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.

It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.

“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.

“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.

“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”

“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”

“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.

“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”

“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.

“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”

There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.

“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.

They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.

Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.

“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.

“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”

“I’m Emma,” she breathed.

“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”

Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.

“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.  

“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”

Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”

Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.

***

The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.

Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.

She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.

Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.

“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”

His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”

Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.

A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.

“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”

Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.

They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.

From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.

She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.

She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.

Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.

“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.

“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”

“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.

“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.

She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.

She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.

Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.

Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.

“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.

“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”

***

He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”

About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.

Fans took notice and loved it.

A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.

The fans loved that too.

But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”

The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.  

They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”

Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.

There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.

He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.

“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.

“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”

“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”

“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.

“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”

It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.

“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”

Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.

“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.

“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”

“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.

Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.

When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window. “I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”

An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”

“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”

She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.

She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.

The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”

The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.

“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.

“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”

“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.

“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”

“But it was rude.”

“It was necessary.”

The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.

***

It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.

Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.

She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.

“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.

Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.

Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.

“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”

“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.

“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”

Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.

“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”

“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.

“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.

She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.

“We have to celebrate.”

It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.

After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.

“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.

“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.

“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”

“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.

“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”

“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”

“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”

“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”

“Can I ask you?”

“What?”

“About your ex.”

She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.

“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”

“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”

He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.

With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.

“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”

A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.

“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”

“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.

“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”

“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.

“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”

Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”

“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”

“What a dirtbag.”

“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”

“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”

“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”

“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.

“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”

She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.  

“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.

“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.

“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”

“Noted.”

“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”

“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.

“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”

“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”

“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”

“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.

“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”

“Rude-”

“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”

“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.

“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.

“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.

“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”

She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”

“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.

“Wait, I have another!”

“Watch it, smart ass.”

“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”

“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”

“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”

“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.

“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”

She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.

Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.

He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.

He was her best friend.

And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.

“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”

“Just remember me when you get famous.”

“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”

“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”

Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”

Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.

“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.

It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.

“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”

“Why not?”

“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”

He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.

He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.

She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.

“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.

She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.

“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”

“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.

“You’re welcome, love.”

His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.

“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”

“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.

“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.

“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”

“Just practicing.”

His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.

But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.

He was always in hers.

***

There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.

But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.

She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.

The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.

She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.

Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.

“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.

He smelled so good. He smelled like home.

She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.

“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”

“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”

“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.

“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”

“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.

“Sing what?”

“That’s the surprise.”

“Do I even know the words?”

“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.

“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”

“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”

“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.

“I had Lambert put something together for you.”

“Of course you did.”

She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.

“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.

“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”

“Pinky swear?”

“Pinky swear.”

Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.

There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.

She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.

The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.

Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.

“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.

Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.

Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.

She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.

“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.

“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.

“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.

The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.

“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.

The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.

“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.

“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”

Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.

“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’

“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.

He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.

The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”

Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.

They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.

“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.

“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.

The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.

Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.

“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.

The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.

“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.

He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.

When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.

He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.

She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.

“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.

“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”

“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”

“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.

She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”

She could never say no to him.

Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.

She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.

If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.

She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.

“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.

“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”

“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.

His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.

The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.

The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”

“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.

He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”

“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?

They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.

“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”

“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”

“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”

“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.

She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.

Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”

There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?

She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.

She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.

A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.

All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.

The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.  

***

The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.

She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?

But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.

It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.

There he was.

His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.

Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?

“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.

It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.

“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.

“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”

“You don’t remember anything?”

“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”

“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”

“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”

He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”

“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.

“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.

Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”

Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?

“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.

“Just a question, princess.”

She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.

“What’s so funny?”

“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”

“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.

She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”

“You're cruel.”

“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”

“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”

The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.

“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.

“I think so.”

“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”

“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.

“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”

“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”

Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”

“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.

“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”

“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.

“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.

“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.

“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”

“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”

“But why Harry’s?”

It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”

“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.

“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”

“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.

“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”

Fuck.

Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.

She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.

Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”

“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.

Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.

There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.

Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.

“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.

“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.

“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”

“I don’t think it would be weird.”

“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”

He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.

“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”

Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.

“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.

“Neither do I.”

The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.

He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.

Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever

When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.

“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.

“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.

“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.

“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.

His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”

“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”

“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”

“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?

THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!! 

An extra for our babies can be found here!

[painless-innit-colourful]

Invisible

Potions of invisibility grant the user the ability to disappear, functionally: the concealment of one’s self through magic, distilled into a draught easy to swallow. For better and worse, Tommy’s familiar with the taste.

It tastes sour, primarily. 

Looking at the ingredient list, no wonder. Nether wart and fermented spider eye. Gross. There are some things a golden carrot just can't balance out. 

It's such a disgusting taste he doesn't notice the shimmering feeling, instead focusing his attention on scraping a thin layer of translucent brown sugar-mushroom-spider ick off his tongue. Not until: 

"Tommy?" "Y- Bleh- Yeah?" "Oh!" Tubbo waves his arms in a wild arc, smile growing, before his hand collides with Tommy's arm, and he picks up Tommy's wrist. "It worked!" "What do you- Ohhh..." 

If he blurs his vision, Tubbo's fingers circle around nothing. If he looks properly, he can just about see the edges of his wrist, the lines of his shirt sleeve. "Dude, how does that work?" "Which bit?" "Clothes. My clothes didn't drink it too." "Dude, I dunno... My turn!" 

They learn to spot the tiny signs of an invisible person. They learn to disguise them. Tommy tries to tackle Tubbo and misses completely, and both of them fall about laughing. 

Call that a drug van success story. 

--- 

He sprints past it, hoping they aren’t following, panic filling his bloodstream. He chugs the potion as he runs, drops spilling down his front, staining his navy coat with off-white shadows as he shimmers and disappears into thin air. 

Please don’t see me, please don’t see me.

He stumbles into the shallow waters of the lake, wading - disturbing the water, too many signs, you're gonna be seen - towards Tubbo's tunnel. He takes three steps and slips under the surface, landing on his hands and knees on the tunnel floor, waiting, waiting- Where are they? 

There's the sound of an arrow seeking its mark and hitting true, and for a split second Tommy sees an arm with deft fingers and a dark blue sleeve fall over the side of the entrance, and then the body is gone and shit shit shit- 

Tommy sticks his head back out- Who was that? Wilbur? Tubbo? He feels the shimmering feeling again - "a quick escape", where are the others - and slowly drops back to the tunnel floor. 

Make a decision, what if they find you, Little Laddy One Life? He walks away, opting to live to fight another day, hoping that his friends will join him soon. 

--- 

Funnily though, while clothes disappear with the potion, armour doesn't. He doesn't know why; he's not smart enough to. And right now, as he yanks the shoulder straps of his chestplate tight, he doesn't really care. 

"Stop!" They don't stop, voices mostly drowned out by the overwhelming sound of rushing water. Dream, his face also hidden, but by his signature mask as opposed to the magic of an invisibility potion, holds his hand towards Tubbo and tells him "I need the disc." Tommy crests the wreckage of the Community House, no longer attempting to stay hidden as the water thunders down around his ankles, pulling him towards the platform in the centre. It's a bizarre version of the Pit. It’s an arena. It's a stage. 

"No!" He screams, as Tubbo takes half a step back towards the ender chest. Heads snap to his position, looking at the empty suit of armour that's just appeared beside and above them. Tubbo stutters something in quiet disbelief, and between that and the sudden attention, Tommy falters. If he took off his armour now, could he get out of there? Or would the same fate that once befell Wilbur catch him? The blame for this building is on him, after all. 

He jumps in, landing on his feet between Dream and the cabinet of L'Manberg. He is caught in the crossfire of their questions: "Tommy?" "Is that Tommy?" 

He shouts, and he screams, and he revolves like a merry-go-round, trying to keep his eyes on everyone, not trusting that his armour'll be enough to protect him from the sheer amount of enemies about. So many people hate him, he realises, it's 30 v 2. Technoblade would like those odds. Technoblade, who's standing beside him, not invisible because he went to get milk. He likes the protection; he thinks. 

They don't listen. Tubbo keeps insisting he betrayed them all by teaming with Techno, that he betrayed L'Manberg, but they don't understand, he didn't have a choice, "You don't know what he did to me in exile." Tubbo has the disc in his hands, and without having an inkling of where Dream's eyes are, he watches him consider simply snatching it from Tubbo's hands. 

"You're not gonna give him the disc." Tubbo looks at him like it's a dare, and why can't he see? Tommy's practically crying with the effort and exertion of watching his best friend betray him in slow motion, of being this close to his abuser, of being blamed for something he didn't do, of being beaten down every time he gets on his damn feet. 

"I don’t need to prove myself to you. This wasn’t me. Trust me. Jesus— for once in your life, Tubbo, trust me." Tubbo's eyes are cold, his mind made up. What happened to us against the world?  "I did trust you. Once. The first time all of this happened. And I won’t make the same mistake twice." 

There's a little moment where time stops, and everyone draws nearer like a crowd at the coliseum, and Tommy feels his invisibility ripple slightly, warning him it's about to wear off. Who the fuck cares. 

Tubbo takes a step towards Dream, and Tommy lunges to put himself between them. "Don't you dare." Tubbo's hand goes to his axe. "You betrayed me, Tubbo, you- Did you just-" Both of their eyes are on Tubbo’s weapon, when he puts the disc away, staring Tommy down plainly with his one hand returning to the axe at his waist, and the other taking out his shield. "I didn't betray you." His voice is level, all business. Okay then, Mr President.

"You betrayed everything that you'd built with presidents prior." Tommy's anger, and hurt, and frustration, and pain finally boils over, so much so that it's visible in the way he shakes as he brings out his axe. "You know what?" He bites into a golden apple, feeling its effects drown out the rushing water and the shimmering sensation of his invis. "You've got your axe up." Technoblade’s tone is surprised but light as he tells Tommy to make this decision wisely, but he’s already gone, his safety and conscience be damned. He throws himself at Tubbo, brandishing his axe as the pigman taught him, like he once practised with the brown-haired boy he’s swinging at, thinking You say I betrayed you? I'll show you a traitor. 

Poetically, perhaps, it's less like a fight, and more like a dance. They are a whirlwind - a hurricane - clashing and blocking and pushing and shoving across the otherwise empty floor. Somewhere in the gushing water, Technoblade's bloodlust has seized him, and he's gone for the L'Manbergians and the festival-goers and the unrelated parties that came when they saw the destruction, and he's scattering them this way and that, but who cares about that? 

They are not equally matched. Tommy shakes too much: there is too much of him vulnerable here, not just his mortality, something that neither invisibility nor armour can keep from being scratched and damaged. He's losing. He's quite badly losing, despite Tubbo's inferior armour and weapons and allies, and he leaps into the nearest watery wall, letting the Respiration helmet Techno made for him protect him as the water drags him under and away from his attacker. His best friend. He bites into another golden apple, his pleas swallowed by the torrent. He still hears Tubbo's shout though, permeating the water and being relayed through his communicator from wherever Techno is. 

"Where are you?" 

He pops back up, shaking and soaking wet and sees a familiar sight: an old friend, a brother - once - staring him down with death in his eyes from behind brown hair. He was wrong, oh so wrong, all those weeks ago: at once he is Schlatt, alone at the end of his days, and there's Wilbur, old pals who'll be the death of each other. No. 

No. 

"I didn’t betray you, you teamed up with the very person that destroyed us the first time!" He feels his invis shimmer one more time, and the timing is immaculate, really. Cinematic, one might say. 

"I went for the discs— Tubbo, the discs— The discs were worth more than you ever were!" "No... Wh- Th-" The world stands still, and it feels so good, it's so good to finally say it, to watch Tubbo's face fall, his shield slipping from his hand, listen to the reactions around their little arena, watch as Tubbo shuts his mouth and yanks on the strap of his chestplate and lets it drop to the floor, leaving him defenceless and open to attack and wait- no- wait- 

Mutely, Tommy’s gaze drifts skyward, and it should feel good because they know now, they know how he feels, but it's not, it's not good because that- that wasn't true. That wasn't right. 

And he looks back at Tubbo, and finally, finally, his invis runs out, and he hopes it shows on his face, that he knows he's fucked up because Tubbo looks destroyed, and a shiver goes through him because he no longer looks angry he just- He just looks sad. 

He takes off his helmet, breathing heavily from the ache and exertion, heart burning in regret. 

‘The discs were worth more than you ever were.’

How do you fix that? For one crazy moment, he considers the invis again. Turning translucent and running, back to Techno- back to Technoblade who'd congratulate him on 'moving on' and tell Phil like he was proud and probably write that line on the fucking wall, how could he be such a monumental ass- 

"Tubbo?" Their eyes meet. Tubbo says nothing. 

"Give him the disc." 

He looks bewildered, "You want me to give Dream the disc?" He says, the tiniest sliver of something they used to have peeking through, the bearest hint of kindness, and bless him, it's more than Tommy deserves. It makes him want to go invisible again. 

He smiles softly, and it can't reach his eyes, but he pours every ounce of good left in him into it and desperately hopes it's enough.

"Yeah." And because he's fucked up, because he knows they can never go back from this: "I'm sorry Tubbo." 

--- 

He's done it again, he keeps fucking up. Sam's hand is holding him down by the shoulder, firm fingers digging into him, keeping him from reaching Ghostbur. 

He tried so hard. His throat is sore from not coughing. His muscles hurt from the pure tension and adrenaline coursing through his bloodstream, from his stubborn heart to the ends of his fingers and toes. He thought he'd gotten caught when he drank the potion in the waivers room, and his heart had been beating so loud that he'd thought Sam could hear it. 

Yet, they made it. But it doesn't matter, because he pulled out the axe too early, and now he's busted, and Sam's gonna kill him or Wilbur's going to come back or both, and it's all his fault. 

Every time he tries. Every time he tries to fix things, or do what's right, or have something for himself, it's taken away, destroyed and he's kicked to the ground. Every time. 

It's enough to make anyone want to be invisible.

[barbecuebabybackribs]

Sex with Jasper Hale would include: (Male Reader)

(If the title isn’t warning enough this is nsfw- also yes I know I said this would take a few days but I 1. had my friend bugging me to do it and 2. Needed a break from more complicated requests and life. Also this felt so awkward writing but I hope you guys enjoy) P.S: this is slightly tailored to my friend who requested it- so I’m sorry if it doesn’t fit you

NSFW UNDER CUT!!!!

Human Mate:

Jasper is afraid of hurting you- he is extremely strong and everyone always thinks he’s about to loose control, even though he would never hurt you when everyone around you is on edge and you’re an empath, it puts you on edge.

But when your alone, and he only feels your emotions and his own, he’s able to relax enough to feel comfortable being intimate with you.

It almost always starts with a simple kiss- which he doesn’t end.

He would 100% stop if he ever felt you weren’t into it

He’s a dominant top- he will let you ride him but you both know who’s in control

He loves to pin you to whatever surface is closest- bed, table, wall, it doesn’t matter

He loves how you can’t get out of his grasps, he’d completely in control of just how much pleasure you’ll get

He’s a big tease

He’ll touch you just about anywhere except where you want him to

He’d slowly kiss down your body, paying attention to your emotions and every time he feels a spike of arousal when he touches a specific spot- he pays extra attention there and makes a mental note for next time

Slowly strips you down- almost to slowly but that’s the point- to drive you absolutely insane with lust- which he does help along with his powers

The man use’s his powers a lot but can you blame him?

Calls you pet names the entire time “Darling” “Love” “Sugar”- has called you “Baby boy” a few times when your especially desperate for him

He. Love. Going. Down. On. You.

Almost loves it more then you going down on him- although it’s a close call

He has no gag reflex- which he uses to his advantage

Loves when you moan out his name and pull at his hair

He will stop if you ever suppress your moans/whines- he wants to know just how good he’s making you feel

He’ll overwhelm you with, waves of lust, his mouth, and his hand grasping at your ass/ massaging you.

He loves hearing your moans and your breathless praises

It’ll depend on his mood if he let’s you finish from his mouth, he loves when your moans raise and he can feel you attempting to thrust into him as you reach your high, or he’ll take you right to the edge then stop all contact- relishing in your needy whines and small thrust into the air,

“Jasper, please.”

“Don’t worry, Darling. I’m not even close to being done with you yet.”

Usually tells you to take his clothes off, making it as difficult for you as possible

Arousal is an emotion he can control- and if he so wishes he could overwhelm you with so much lust and arousal he could make you cum without even touching you- he’s tested it before and caught you off guard when you were doing the laundry/cooking

So when you’re trying to strip him he’ll randomly send waves of lust your way- just eating up how you’ll grip his clothes tightly and lean into him- whole body shaking as you do so- but he’ll just bring you to the edge before ceasing his teasing

If he’s in no hurry, he’ll let you go down on him

This man is almost never vocal- except in the bedroom

He doesn’t want to thrust to harshly so he let’s you control most of it

It’s alright if you can’t fit all of him down your throat- you are human and there is a limit for you.

He does however love when you use you hand to rub and pump the rest of his length

He’s pushed you off of him more then once- usually getting so lost in the pleasure he can not trust himself to not loose control

“Jazz? You alright.”

“Come here, Now.”

If you get him to riled up your in for a rough ride- literally

He will bend you over on any surface/ press you against a wall

You’re practically begging when he’s stretching you/ prepping you

He’s prepared 99.9% of the time with lube- if he isn’t it’s purely oral that time, as he wants to make it as painless as possible.

When he’s done prepping you he’ll ask if you’re ready- if you are he’ll thrust into you slowly but forcefully

Wait’s till your fully adjusted before setting a relentless pace

Nuzzles into your back- has lightly bit into you neck once or twice- usually doesn’t though just in case

 Grips the back of your neck and thrusts into you- making sure to hit your spot every. single. time.

When you’re reaching your high he will drape against your back and use one hand to support himself and the other to jerk you off

He’s got a praise kink- loves when you praise him, but especially loves muttering small praises into your ear at he fucks into you

You moans only spur him on to fuck into you harder

He’s a sucker if you beg him to go harder or do something differently- man can’t say no

“Please- please don’t stop!”

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

He’ll time your release with an specially brutal wave of lust

You’ll be shaking after your release- and being overstimulated by him continuing to thrust into you chasing his own release

When he cums he’ll practically growl into your ear- thrust becoming even rougher and erratic.

He has and will overstimulate you- he’s a vampire which means lots of stamina

He never goes to far- understanding you’re still human and he doesn’t want it to get to unbearable

But if you’re up to it- he’ll keep going till you’re practically falling apart

He does like it when you ride him, he’ll make you hold his hands and watch you fuck yourself on him

He adores every part of you, almost get’s lost in trailing his fingers down your sides, your face, everything

If he decides your pace isn’t fast enough for him, he’ll grab your hips and thrust up into them

He also like when your on your back, he loves watching your facial expressions, the pleasure that washes over your face- that he caused- it really spurs him on

He also liked being able to kiss you in the middle of the act, your mouth, your neck, anywhere really- but especially the mouth, he likes when he thrusts particularly hard while kissing you and you have to break the kiss with a broken moan

God this man loves everything about you

He’d also be open to tying you up occasionally- he’d use silky material because he 1) likes the feel, and 2) he likes how it doesn’t hurt you

This man loves being in control and when you let him tie you up and forfeit all control to him- it really get’s to him

He makes sure you have a safe word in place before you do anything.

If he feels you be uncomfortable- hit’s the breaks

He’s stopped in the middle of an extremely intense session because he felt the slightest amount of discomfort

“I am so sorry, Do you want me to stop?”

“No- Jasper that’s not it-”

“Are you okay?”

“Jasp-”

“Are you hurt?”

“Babe please calm down–”

It takes a lot of convincing for you guys to continue

This man is all about the aftercare.

He doesn’t need it as much as you physically- although emotionally he does appreciate when you praise him and tell him you love him.

He’ll clean you up, has forced you to take Advil if it was a particularly rough night, and I hope you like sappy jasper because that’s what you get

Kisses your forehead and tells you how good you did, what a good boy are.

He pulls you close to him, wrapping his arms around you- loving if you cuddle up to him more by wrapping your arms back around him.

He likes to feel your body slowly relax as he talks to you, you sleepily mumbling responses.

Until your heart beat and breathing calms and you drift off to sleep, and he’s able to watch you sleep in his arms- god he’s so happy he found you

He loves when you trust him enough to sleep next to him

In the end he just wants you to feel safe and loved, even in your most intimate moments

(Uhm… so that’s my take on it…. i’ll see myself out- if you want a vampire mate version just lemme know- I honestly don’t know how I feel about this.)

[alltheangstmygifttoyou]

Tell me about three of your favorite OCs you’ve worked on!

Thank you for the ask! Sorry for the wait, I've been working on this whenever I got the spoons which have been in short supply.

Three of my favorite OC's: Well one is very much Elena. From her starting point as an atla oc to role-play as, to her own fanfiction, then to multiple short/uncompleted stories, and finally being one of the main charecters for the series i hope to write (Learn To Be) shes been on a long journey with me and has consistently been an oc i fall back to in both writing and drawing. She's overpowered and badass, could kill a man twice her size with her bare hands without breaking a sweat, but doesn't have the average socialization the rest of the world does, and she doesn't like hurting people. She can keep her face completely blank but can't interpret what she feels correctly. She's repressed as fuck and the only way she knows how to let loose is in bursts of violent rage. She loves animals but has no idea how to properly handle any of them (in a friendly way, she can handle them in a her next meal way just fine). She attaches to people very fast. Oh year she also summons and controls fire and her skin can radiate heat at times, but she isn't resistant to burns. She loves her parents but everyone else who knows about them know that they deserve to be burning in hell <3

2. Would probably be Morgan Weasley even though she maybe is only a year or so old. With a lot of OC's i make i focus on one story to write and quickly end up moving on to new ones. But Morgan is one of the few that have stuck. I wrote a lot of her main story in a large span of inspiration, and when that ran out it was from an overwhelming amount of ideas to tweak the story in different ways. I've got a doc dedicated to different random snippets to full blown au's, some with multiple chapters planned. If I hadn't had an au idea for Morgan's story while I was inpatient id have been forced to stay longer because I was bored out of my mind and getting more agitated with nothing to do. Even though I havent written her (or much of anything really) recently I still find great pleasure in playing around with her universe in my head.

3. This is hard to choose because part of me just wants to put the rest of the main Learn to Be cast, part of me wants to say Greenland, and the rest of myself needs to keep reminding certain charecters aren't my oc's no matter how many parts of canon I throw out the window. I guess I'll just settle for malcolm and Jesse, who were created years apart, but have only really started to get developed because of their relationship. Malcolm was a full metal alchemist oc for role-playing at first. I was young and the role played story for him makes me cringe at how emotionally manipulative his actions were without me having any self awareness about it. Im not exactly sure when he started to join in on the short/uncompleted stories with the main five, but I think it was either We Are Salvageable or Crack Oc Highschool. He was mostly just one of my average ocs for role plays until then. Jesse was created for a very ambitious harry potter role play where, if I remember correctly, we were doing eight oc's each per house. At the time Jester was a very new character and I was struggling to think of more slytherians, so I came up with Jesse. Jesse was made to be the nicer version of Jester. This quickly changed to the opposite the more I wrote. Malcolm and jesses relationships has been through all sorts of changes and will continue to do so, but, I do at least have more personal background for Jesse, his internalized homophobia, and how he sees interactions with others. It also made me conclude that whether malcolm is gay or bi won't change the fact that he is out and proud. Their relationship also helped me flesh their insecurities, specifically ones tied to masculinity. Jesse is skinny, lanky, well groomed, formal clothes, and arrogant with large amounts of condescension to boot. He thinks power, sociatal, economical, and power strength is what separates real men from riff raff. To him homosexuality is unmanly, which is oh so terrible thing to be (this boy makes me so tired sometimes). Malcolm has a horrible father as an example and though he recognizes this, its hard to apply to himself. He has to be physically strong, he has to be aggressive and incite violence against people he considers bad, and he very much struggles to reign in his temper. He doesn't judge others by presentation but he does use phrases like be a man and the like.

Sorry for the long wait! Thank you for asking :3