#for me green makes it easier to catch anything off and i usually dont work with green

[killjoy-prince]

*realizes that its the end of the month and has almost nothing to show for it so tries to make something on the side of the main project*

[littlemisslipbalm]

“you make me so angry sometimes”

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He snickers, “Y’like it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“S’a little rude.”

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Seriously. What?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I don’t see it.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So which am I?” She widens her eyes.

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

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

He laughs. “Thanks,” he drawls out.

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

“You’re late!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Do not,” she warned.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I’ve got it,” Y/N says.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s my job to touch you, Harry.”

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

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

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

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

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

He nods again, muttering “Fair, fair.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He pauses again and she continues to work silently.

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

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

“Pardon?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Stop that,” She muttered.

“Stop what?” He smiles wider.

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

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

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

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

She rolls her eyes, “Whatever, dude.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry hums and unclenches it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Lisa nods, “Apologize.”

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

Lisa smiles.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He types back: “Of courseeee”.

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

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

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hi,” he exhales.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yet the effect is similar,” she muses.

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

“Effect?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Which part?”

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

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

“You know, so why don’t you?”

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

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

“And what if I don’t?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nick stays quiet, taking a drag of his cigarette.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I really am sorry,” she whispers again.

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re stubborn,” she notes.

“So are you,” he counters quickly.  

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

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

“That’d be nice.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Passion.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Harry giggles and scratches his nose against his index finger.

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Great. You?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Harry,” she sighs contentedly.

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

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

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

“What?” Harry laughs, confused.

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

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

“How are you?” She continues.

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

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

“The one who’s obsessed with me?”

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

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

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

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

“Oh shut up!” She’s quick to reply.

“So you do?”

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

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

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

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

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

“No one said anything about nudes!”

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

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

“Aww, you’re flustered,” She coos.

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

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

“Because you called me,” he says confidently.

“I call everyone.”

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

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

“Or does it?”

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

“Yes.” She smiles.

“Yes!” He repeats happily.

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

“See you soon, Harry.”

“Not soon enough.”

-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[honesthammie]

Te amo

I am working on a few of the other prompts and a part 2 to prompt 4 the soulmate au I just recently got another puppy and I still have uni work to do so I'm a bit behind schedule with these and I'm so sorry. Hopefully this little kinda songfic makes up for it.

13th doctor x female reader

Warnings: swearing as usual, fluffy, sad thoughts, twist the original songs meaning, long as fuck.

Probably terrible as its my first songfic

I don't know much Spanish so some of the examples later on are Google translated and I know it can be wrong so I do apologise for any mistranslations

This is based off Rhiannas song Te Amo but I'm switching it up a little. I dont why 13th doctor came into my head when I was listening to it but it gave me this lil oneshot idea so enjoy! The picture is not mine but the rainbow effect added is done by me! Same for the picture later on.

I've been travelling with this amazing alien for a whole year now. The adventures are always amazing if she's there! The others sometimes complain and say its boring, especially on a junk planet but to see her face light up with excitement makes my day and it well worth the dirt we cover ourselves on by the time we are done. And when she finds something that she thought was useful and it turns out, it's not her scrunch is amazing.

Okay, I'll admit it. I'm in love with this alien. I know, weird, a human and an alien together? But I can't help it! I'm completely besotted with her. If she even looks in my direction, my legs go to jelly and I get butterflies. I know, cheesy. But thats exactly how I feel around her. I barely want to touch her because I nearly fainted the last few times. And I fear she may pick up on how I'm distancing myself from her. I don't want to break her heart and leave, the thought of her look kills me as is so I'm trying to get her to kick me off.

It doesn't seem to be working though. I've been distancing myself since I found out about how I feel, which is now 6 months ago and she's trying to get me to be as close as I was with her.

I'll tell her. On one of our amazing adventures but I can't do it straight forward, it's making me sick with anxiety just thinking about it. I'll fancy it up, make her work it out. Whenever we are next to each other and the moment is right, I'll tell her in another language!

I finally get out of bed after I finished writing in my diary. I slip some comfy clothes on and head out to the TARDIS library and hope no one is there, especially her. I'll be distracted and right now, I need to concentrate. I wonder the warm halls, grateful that the TARDIS had considered my preferences. I think the TARDIS likes me more than the others because I talk to her and show her gratefulness for taking us somewhere amazing and I chat to her regularly and I try to involve her in my conversations. The others find it weird, except for the Doctor, she just smiles and joins in with me. Im still learning how to translate her but I think I've sort of got it.

I reach my hand forward and grab the aged bronze doorknob and open to the giant room. There were so many floors that an elevator had to be used to access some of them as the Doctor said "walking would literally take weeks to reach some floors". Thankfully the TARDIS organises them to make them easier to find. I looked forward and saw an interactive map in front of me. My hands touched the screen and many subjects and categories came up. Anything ranging from kiddie tales to straight up smut, I have a feeling either River or Missy are to blame for that addition.

I've never met them but the TARDIS showed me videos from her database and brought books to my attention about them. They both seem very dirty minded people so I'm not surprised those are there. I wonder if the Doctor has ever stumbled upon this section or is it for none Doctor eyes only? If she does know about them, has she ever read one? No, don't go there you stupid brain! She probably doesn't know!

I quickly stop that train of thought and catch my breath. I've never thought about those kinds of things about anyone before. Stupid Timelord, making me go all weird and think dirty things. Now my face is all red, I really hope I'm alone in here. I quickly focus back to the task at hand, finding a new language to learn. The TARDIS seemed to know where to go and blue arrows appeared, guiding me to the right section in what could be a maze.

As I walking, I felt excitement rise within me. What if she felt the same way? What if she was impressed by how far I wanted to go just to say those 3 words? Would her hazel honey eyes sparkle with delight? Would she scronch her nose in amazement?

Before I knew it, I'd arrived at the language learning section and there were many alien languages but the TARDIS seemed to have a better idea of what would be perfect for me as a white hardback book fell off the 4th shelf onto the wooden floor. I picked it up and noticed how smooth the cover was and how old yet unused it looked. The white was a little off, almost a dull cream from ageing which made the gold writing harder to read. The title was simple:

Spanish basics and need to knows.

I did always find Spanish in school fun to learn, more than French or German anyway and I don't wanna stereotype this into a typical French is the language of romance. I never really found it romantic sounding compared to Spanish.

I picked up the book and quickly flicked through to the right page and took a note on my phone as to what the translation was and put the worn book away. I quietly thanked the TARDIS and rushed out of the library and back into my room where I could practice without getting caught.

A few weeks have passed since I picked up the new words and practiced them until I was confident and had the TARDIS' approval that I was saying it right. Today the Doctor wanted to take us to this party in the 18th century and we all decided to dress for the part once we landed.

Yaz was wearing a beautiful black and red ballroom gown, accented with little bows around the bottom and lace cuffs. She had her black hair curled into a ponytail. It was simple and cute, much like her style normally. Graham and Ryan wore similar suits but Graham wore green accents and Ryan wore yellow accents.

I let the TARDIS pick my dress. She picked a black and dark blue ballroom gown with blue roses on the bottom. It had black lace underneath and blue lace as the cuffs. The gown also seemed to glitter slightly in the light making me sparkle very subtly. I put my comfy boots on as you couldn't see my shoes as I walked anyway so why did it matter? With all the running we do, I'm not risking my ankles with heels, thank you very much. I had my (h/c) hair in (fave style). It suited my dress perfectly.

I nearly choked on oxygen when I saw how hot the Doctor looked in her suit. It took me a few moments to realise we match. We both blushed at the realisation. Of course the TARDIS makes us match! No wonder why she was more than eager to help me pick an outfit! Stupid sentient ship, shipping us already!

I quickly cleared my throat and complimented everyone on how amazing they looked but I just couldn't take my eyes off the Doctor for long. She was like a magnet for my eyes. Someone help before she realises!

"Don't we all look brilliant? Perfect for the party! 18th century Yorkshire to be exact! What a great century for you guys. Now then, this party is for Nobles and higher, as per usual in these times. Ryan, I suggest you keep in mind about any racist comments that may come out. But as long as you say your Graham's personal butler, you should be welcomed with little resistance. And Yaz, I want you to be (y/n)'s personal maid. That does mean you'll have to follow your so called "masters" around and do anything they ask unfortunately and Graham, (y/n), please act like the others around you and use them. Unfortunately this is the only way all 5 of us can join the party. You'll be fine as long as you bite your tongues. Now the Noble Edward Collins is the host so be sure to thank him for inviting you, even though you technically weren't. And try not to get too drunk, I know what you humans are like! Now follow me." The Doctor explained. I was going to tell the Doctor today, but I guess, I'll have to wait.

The Doctor opened the doors and we were in a cupboard under some gorgeous marble stairs. As we walked towards the party I noticed some family portraits along the walls. They were a very beautiful looking family. The mother had long blonde hair and pale blue eyes. The father was buff, long brown hair and daring brown eyes. There were two children, a girl and a boy. The girl had long brown hair and sparkling blue eyes, whilst the son had blonde hair and brown eyes. They also had a brown greyhound dog laying by the sons feet. The son must be the host, Edward. He looked not much older than 10 in the last painting but the daughter was no where to be found in the portrait and theu all looked mournful. Is she dead and is that the picture capturing the moment of grief? Why would anyone want that? It's so strange, even for this time period.

The Doctor held me and Yaz close, stopping us in our tracks. My heart was racing at the simple touch. But as soon as the touch was there, it was gone. "I hope its okay with you (y/n) but you're going to have to be married to someone."

My heart stopped for a moment and I nearly choked on air. "What? Why?"

"Because women like yourself would have been married as young as 13 or 14. Now your only choices are me and Graham. You can't choose Ryan as he's supposed to be a butler and you can't choose Yaz as she's your maid. The choice is yours, I just need to know wether or not I should refer to you as my darling wife or not?"

What. The. Fuck.

Why did her even calling me that l, turn me on? Obviously, I'm going to choose her but I'm going to have to perfect my reasoning here.

"As much as I love Graham, it's going to be awkward if I have to kiss him or anything because he's like my grandad! I guess you'll do Timelord. Come on then husband, we don't want to be late to the dancefloor!" I spoke clearly hoping she didn't notice how excited I actually was to have even a hint of a relationship with her. It may be fake but ill take anything when it comes to her.

We arrived at the welcome committee and handed our cards over, aka the psychic paper. We were going as Mr and Mrs (last name). The Doctor was holding my hand this entire time and it's driving me insane. I don't know if she can feel my racing pulse under her fingers but if she can I hope she puts it down to excitement! We walked down the most grandest staircase you would ever lay your eyes on.

First we walked around, greeting everyone as they came up to us or if she dragged me to someone she knew, but not personally. She was cute when she was fangirling over these people. Yaz found it annoying as she just wanted to party but I couldn't help it. The way her eyes shimmer with recognition was more beautiful than any galaxy she could ever take us. Sometimes her eyes flickered with admiration and it did make me have jealousy for just a moment before I remembered, I'm staying with her and they aren't .

As the party moved on we met the host Edward. He looked a lot different than in his paintings. He was around 20 years old now and his blonde hair was below his shoulders. He looked a lot like his father with his muscley build. And he was very charismatic which I did not like as he poured all his charm into the Doctor. Does everyone here know that he's gay or does he see through the Doctors disguise? Either way, it was rubbing me the wrong way. I quickly excused myself with Yaz and walked into the bathroom.

"I did not like him. I do not like this Edward guy. Something about him rubs me completely wrong. He's handsome but something is telling me he knows the Doctor isn't a man."

"I felt the same way. He knows something we don't. Before we go out there again, do you mind if I ask you a question?" Yaz asked. My mind was racing a hundred miles an hour. She knows. The jig is up with Yaz. "How do you feel about her, honestly? One minute you 2 are inseparable, then you distance yourself and now you are a nervous wreck around her! I won't judge but I just want to make sure my theory is correct."

Shit. I guess I really was obvious. Does she know?

"If your theory is about me falling hopelessly in love with the Doctor then you'd be correct. I can't help it. I'm going to tell her how I feel without being completely stupid. I just need a right moment to say it." I spoke with a heavy sigh. Hopefully, Yaz can help create that moment thay I need. She nods her head and opens the door. We walk back to the Doctor and notice Edward has gone to other guests and she was talking to Graham. I looked around and saw Ryan flirting with a pretty lady near the food table. Why am I not surprised?

A few hours had passed and the Doctor seemed bored with standing and talking so I made a plan in my head. I grabbed her hand and pulled her to the dancefloor as the next song came on. I didn't quite know how to dance properly but I knew the basics if it. She has to lead and I simply follow suit. It took a few moments but I got the hang of it with the Doctors help. Soon we were dancing so gracefully underneath the most beautiful candelabra that lit up her face perfectly.

Her hair swayed to our perfect dance ever so gently. Her eyes sparkled with amusement and her lips were in a permanent smile. She even laughed a couple of times. Then as the music slowed down to a pace that was perfect, I grabbed her waist and looked her. My heart was going crazy and my legs were about to buckle but I had rehearsed my lines. I can do this.

"Hey Doc. Its been an amazing time with you but I can't continue this without being honest with you. But everytime I get close, I back down in fear. So I'm going to let you figure it out. Doctora te amo. Entiendo que si no sientes lo mismo y me iré si quieres. (Doctor i love you. i understand if you don't feel the same way and i'll leave if you want.)" I spoke with as much passion and intention as I could. I looked into her eyes and saw her confused and trying to work out what I said. I would find it cute if my heart was beating right out of my chest. "Well, I've had a great time but I'm fucking knackered. I'm calling it night. I'll be heading to the TARDIS if you need me."

"I'll come with ya. I'm knackered as well and we both need each other to undo the corsets and mine is starting to hurt a little bit. How we used to do this for a full day, everyday, is beyond my understanding. As beautiful as we look, I don't think its worth the pain this will bring in the morning." Yaz spoke with a slight mumble as proof of her mental state and finishing with a yawn. I chuckled at her state and walked back to the TARDIS with a small amount of chat along the way.

She is right though. These corsets really do hurt you after a while, I'm glad I chose not to wear heels or else I'll be fucked for in the morning. I would literally scream. I think the Doctor had the right idea in wearing a suit, no pain. I do feel bad for leaving her but I just need some space after basically admitting everything that's been built up within me for too damn long. Maybe I should tell Yaz how it went and maybe she can help determine if the Doctor is happy or not.

We walked back into the wardrobe room and I helped Yaz out of her corset. She immediately sighed in relief. She finished getting herself into comfy clothes and started to untie my ribbon.

"So did you tell her?"

"Sort of. I basically told her everything but in Spanish. I just hope it doesn't change anything, except in a positive way, of course! If she wants me gone, I've told her that it's fine and I understand. She's very socially awkward and as cute as I find it, it may not help me in this situation. Do you have any clues on how she may react once she figures it out?"

Yaz stopped untying my corset for a moment and placed 1 finger upon her chin in thought. Her eyes were almost shut and seemed almost completely black in the light. After what seemed like forever, she took her finger off her chin and beamed a toothy smile. Her eyes sparkled as she remembered something and seemed to gleam slightly menacingly. A smirk replaced her smile soon after.

"There's a few times she's shown affection towards you. And I mean romantic affection. She always chooses to hold your hand over anyone else's if given the choice. She always steps I'm front of you when an enemy threatens to kill us all or hurt us in anyway. When you go wandering around on your own, she's terrified thats she's lost you forever to an enemy we don't even know of!" Yaz starts explaining carefully as if she's worried on how to word it.

"Those are just friendly affec-"

"I wasn't done. I was warming up." Yaz interrupts me as I was about to go into a self deprecating speech on how I'm just a friend to everyone and never a lover. "She always looks to see your face on adventures because she secretly loves your reactions, bad or good. When the Master revealed himself, she looked straight at you for support on how she should react. When she came back from the Kasavin, she ran straight to you and made sure you were ok first before any of us. When we were in the Tsungra medical ship, the first person she asked for was you! Whilst she was unconscious on board the ship, she kept mumbling your name, over and over again. When she saw how gorgeous you looked today, I thought she'd take you right there on the spot! She fucking loves you (y/n)! You're just so unbelievably blind to it all!"

Yaz was almost red with rage. Did she really do all that, for me? The TARDIS mustve read my mind and seemed to hum positively in reply. If everything Yaz said is true then she'll be so happy about it and maybe we can be a thing! But then again, maybe losing so many in a similar position as me will turn her away. Maybe her soul is awry and she's asking why right now.

Once I had gotten changed I went to sleep almost straight away, I suppose all that dancing and social ques having tired me out more than I thought.

I woke up to a soft knock on my door. I rubbed my (e/c) eyes and told them I'd be a few minutes as I've only just woken up. It wasn't until I finished brushing my (h/c) hair that I remembered what happened yesterday. All the panic rushed within me at once and I nearly threw up. I took several deep breaths and opened the door.

"GRAHAM THANK FUCK ITS YOU!" I almost shouted at him. He looked a little bewildered for a moment before he seemed to remember what brought him here in the first place.

"Hello Love, I'm here because Doc wanted to speak with you privately in the library. She says that the TARDIS will guide you to her location. She seemed a little off after you and Yaz left. Did something happen? Is everything ok?" Graham asked cautiously. He must be so confused.

"Sort of. I'll explain more when I get back but what do you mean by "a little off"?"

"Well she seemed lost in all sense of the word. She kept muttering "Te Amo" all the time. She was all over the place aswell. She got me and Ryan back here not long after you guys. Something about not trusting Ryan to not get alcohol poisoning without her around. She hasn't really left the library since if I'm honest. She's been in there for 12 hours. I only know she wants you because she whattsapped me on my phone. Whatever is going on, please sort it out, she's starting to really worry me. She hasn't been the same since that Master guy came around." Graham spoke clearly, albeit confused. I nodded my head and walked in the opposite direction to him and hoped the TARDIS would take me there quicker than normal. I want to treat this like a plaster, rip it off in one go.

Sooner than I realised, I grabbed the all too familiar door knob of the library. I took a deep breath and walked in. A blue line appeared towards the interactive map. I awakened the console and I saw a black screen with a few words on it. It looked like a message with how it was presented.

Hello (y/n)! Don't walk until you calm. Breath deeply and try not to panic. I promise you, all will work out in the end. I see more than you realise and I know my thief better than anyone whoever stepped foot into my being. I know of her main problem about the situation. If she loves you, drink this. It won't hurt, she'll know what it is.

The TARDIS

I should have been surprised by this new knowledge that she could speak to me, in a way, but I've seen so much and I am so tender hooks so I didn't take much notice of it. I quickly sat down and tried to control my breathing. After about 5 or so minutes, I felt calm enough to finally meet up with her and hear what she has to say.

I followed the blue line carefully until I spotted her in a comfy room. She mustve gotten changed at some point as she was wearing her usual rainbow outfit, minus the jacket. She was sat on a deep purple sofa, legs curled into her body. Her shoes were on the carpeted floor underneath her, seemingly forgotten for the moment. There were many books surrounding us from many cultures and spieces. One wall had a cozy wood burning fireplace crackling within the silence that surrounded us.

Her face was scrunched within deep thought. Her eyes sparkling with an emotion that I couldn't quite put my finger on; hope, sorrow or excitement? Her lips had a small smirk gracing them and her teeth had bitten a small part of it. Her hands were holding a book in a way where I couldn't quite see what it was.

I didn't want to disturb her as she looked so ethereal with the warm glow of the fire highlighting her in the perfect way. Unfortunately, it's plaster time and I wanted this sorted sooner rather than later. I took a deep breath took in the picture for memory.

"Hey, Graham said you wanted to talk to me? Is everything ok?" I asked gently and as softly as I could so she was carefully brought out of her little world. I didn't want to scare her. She raised her eyes from her book for a moment and bookmarked the page she was at with a little TARDIS paperclip. She placed the book on the table at the side of her and patted the seat next to her.

As I sat down my nerves were through the roof. She gave nothing away as she stared at me for a minute, as if assessing something about me.

"Why are you so nervous? Calm down. You are right, It is to do with last night. You left pretty abruptly after basically confessing your feelings to me. I was so confused, not just about what you said but about myself and what I wanted to do about you." The Doctor spoke monotonously. Did she mean get rid of me? "I had to first of all, find out what you said, well done on learning a new language by the way, one even I'm not fluent at. I'm guessing the old girl had something to do with that idea. Not that, you aren't smart enough but you don't know what languages I do or don't know."

The Tardis seemed to chuckled at the accusation and I simply nodded my head. "I wanted to buy myself time and to impress you."

"You impressed me a long time ago Miss (l/n). That is just a cherry on top. After I figured out what you said, no thanks to my old friend here, I went through a lot of thinking. I've not been in many relationships and you know my history regarding the ones I have been in. You know, River and Missy? And I have such a bad past with it ending in nothing but tears for me. I always lose those I care for deeply." She spoke with tears spilling from her gorgeous eyes. I grabbed her face gently and wiped away the stray tears that managed to escape their home.

"That was when you were a man. You're a woman now, everything is so different. Relationships can be heartbreaking. I know what you're main problem is and the TARDIS has a solution to that. I just need you to tell me the truth. How do you feel about me? Do you want me to stay or not?" I stated holding the small shot glassed amount of liquid in my hand. The liquid was golden and sparkled slightly in the light. There were specks of orange and silver within it and it was as hot as a nice cup of (hot drink). Her eyes sparkled with hope and shock. Her lips were smiling wide. And she seemed to giggle at the sight of it. She held it for a moment as if examining it like a rare artefact, maybe it was. Either way, I trust her judgement and if she's happy about it, then so am I. Once she had analysed the drink, she practically leapt into my arms and pushed me down on my back. She smelled of custard creams and the TARDIS which was odd but completely her and I couldn't imagine her smelling any other way.

"That does solve our problem! What she has just given you is the rarest liquid in the universe seeing as only one thing in the entirety of space can produce it. That drink is known as the nectar of the chosen ones. It's rare as the race that used to make them has practically gone extinct. There's only 3 left in the known universe and you're living in one. That drink is the blood of the TARDIS. It grants you immortality if you drink it. It is said to resemble your favourite beverage no matter who you are. However, it only lasts 100 years and you must drink it every century or else your body clock will kick in and you will age and be as mortal as you are now." She speaks with a warning as we sit up holding holds.

"I have no problem with that. I would sacrifice everything if it meant I got to call you mine. Just please tell me and I'll drink it." I told her with adoration in my eyes.

She held me close and planted a soft and gentle kiss to my lips. It was short but it sent more fireworks than you can imagine through my body. I knew I had found her. She grabbed my waist and whispered next to my ear:

"Te Amo"

[obsessive-ego]

Hot and sweaty

Anyone else hate hot weather and get super sweaty?

Musical beetlejuice x reader

Warning nsft

Voyeurism, masterbation

You come home sweaty and beej has a thing for that smell

You hated summer, you hated the heat, unfortunately your home town was known for its gross summers, it was hot, heavy, and muggy. Running errands openly sucked on days like this, you didnt drive, and the grocery store was only 2km from your home, which was fine during any other time.

The Deetz have asked you to "babysit" beetlejuice while they were on a vacation, the maitlands also pleaded this so they could have some alone time, you didnt mind, you enjoyed the demon's presence, and he yours, ever since you sucker punched him after a jump scare gone wrong, he became very clingy to you.

You were walking back home after retrieving misc groceries and snacks for movie night with Beej, unfortunately today was one of those hot and muggy days, you could feel the sweat rolling down your back, you felt so gross, hopefully you can steal some time to yourself and shower when you got home. Beetlejuice was already there, you summoned him this morning, but realized shortly after you still had adult things to do, he pouted about it, like usual, but shit needs to get done, that's how it is for the living.

Heading up to your apartment you felt sorta relieved, you felt so slimy and gross form the heat, but you were home.

Unlocking the door and heading inside to you small apartment, before you could even take your shoes off the bags you were carrying were gone, and you were pulled into the tight, cold embrace, of your undead friend.

The sudden temperature drop made you sigh in contentment, you weren't exactly the touchy feely type, but this was nice.

"Happy to see me doll? You missed me that much in the hour you were gone? Glad to see we're on the same page sugar" he laughs

You pull away, obviously embarrassed

"Where did you put my bags?" You sigh, finally removing your sneakers

"Away, dont worry about it" the ghoul pauses before leaning in close and taking a deep breath through his nose. "You smell different, stronger"

Your deodorant must have crapped out on you, you sigh, you probably smelled really bad, you could feel your shirt clinging to you back with how sweaty you were.

"Sorry, it's just really hot out and-" your babbling was interrupted with Beej leaning in closer, mouth practically against your ear.

"You smell really good sweet heart" he purrs, you flinch and move away out of panic.

For once his flirting and your reaction wasnt followed by his awful cackle, looking back he had that awful smug smirk he always wore when he got a rise out of you, but also the electric pink hue mixed in with the green mess of his hair, was he actually serious?!

Regaining yourself, you take a deep breath "I'm gonna shower okay? Please-"

You were interrupted by the snap of him fingers "Please Mr Beetlejuice, would you like to join me and scrub my back~?" You cover your mouth at that.

Beetlejuice laughs "I would love to doll, but I ain't a fan of water, I wouldn't mind watching though" he hollers after you as you had to the washroom.

He was messing with you and he was disgusting, so he probably did like the way your sweaty body smelled, you huff through your nose, you wish he was a tad easier to read, the hair helped, but it only went so far, the man never took anything seriously so he could be almost impossible to read, all you knew was that he liked to mess with you, and despite how awful and gross he could be, you honestly really enjoyed him being around, slipping out of your clothes, you couldnt help but smell you shirt, yup, it was as bad as expected, not to mention a little damp, gross, at least a shower will make you feel better.

Alone in the living room, the ghoul sighs, shame you decided to shower, he thought you were fine the way you were, smelled real good too, he knew how sweaty you got and how good it smelled from digging in your dirty laundry basket, you were the type to work out, so it was no surprise, he just never got to smell it straight from the source, would have LOVED to get to lick your neck and get a good taste though.

Lost in his own thoughts he is brought back with the sound of running water, you were gonna take a shower, you NEVER did that when he was around, and here he was not taking the opportunity.

With a snap of his fingers he was invisible, as much as he hated being invisible, this was an exception. Walking into the bathroom, he sits himself on the sink, your shower didnt have a window door like the Deetz, I was a a normal curtain, but transparent enough where he could see your silhouette. he sighs, content in the little show you're providing, he catches something out of his peripheral vision, your clothes you were wearing when you came in, they were thrown in a little pile on the floor, on top of the pile laided a bright red pair of panties, freshly worn, this was perfect, but the real question was 'would you notice?'. There was a real good chance you wouldn't, there was no way youd put back on your dirty sweet smelling clothes after a shower right? Right, youd probably just toss them in the laundry, it felt like an eternity debating on if he could get away with adding this crown jewel to his collection of cum rags he stole from you, he bit the bullet and took them, praying on your oblivious nature to not notice.

Once the lacy fabric was in his hand he was gone, leaving you to enjoy his new treasure. With a small apartment there really wasnt much places he could hide when you were around so he could tend to his urges, the bathtub was the go to, but that wasnt an option right now. Instead he took the hall closet, the only things it held were a vaccum, a few coats, and a pair of rain boots.

The running water stopped, beetlejuice carefully listened for you, hearing you move from the bathroom to your bedroom to get dressed, at frist he debated should he watch you dress or enjoy his new treasure asap, he chose the panties, the ghoul could watch you dress anytime, but these, fresh off your sweaty body panties, were rare and the opportunity probably wont come again.

With that thought he was set, bringing the crotch of the garment to his nose and inhaling deeply, he let's out a low quiet groan. These were so much stronger then the others, he fumbles with the fly on his pants, eager to free his ever hardening cock. Curious he licks the crotch, pleasantly surprised by the lingering taste of you, he let's out a soft whine, god slash satan he wanted to taste you from the source, but damn this was pretty close. The demon began lazily stroking his cock, your red panties pressed to his face, giving him the ability to both lick and smell them, bucking into his hand, the ghoul couldnt help but imagine you sitting on his face, fresh from a long workout or a walk in the heat, whatever would make you nice and sweaty for him, you would be shouting out how much you loved his tongue while you reached around and jerked him off.

Jerking himself a little faster he mumbles "you like that sugar? Yeah you do, you smell just as good as you taste sweetness, no wonder I call ya sugar~".

The closest was completely illuminated but BJ electric pink hair, he was completely lost in his own pleasure, his heart, if it was still beating, would have stopped completely when he herd you call his name, he completely forgot you were in the other room.

The ghoul had to think fast, get you off his trail until he finished, yes he liked you in a romantic way, soft kisses, dumb jokes, and pound you into the mattress kinda way, and yes he knew you liked him, but he was still unsure of how much, so finding him in his current situation could really ruin what chance he had with you, youd probably be sick to your stomach and banish him for good.

With that in mind he had the perfect little distraction.

You were finally dry and freshly clothed, feeling much more comfortable, wandering around your home looking for the demon who was so eager minutes ago when you walked in. This was odd, Beetlejuice would normally wait infront of the bathroom door or bedroom door when you were doing something private, normally chatting with you, but not this time, it was always worrying when beetlejuice was quiet.

Wandering around you start calling out his nicknames, you stop in your tracks as a little note appearing from no where flutters down in front of you, grabbing it, it was obviously written by Beej, the hand writing alone screamed it.

'Gone scaring, be back soon, love the ghost with the most' you sigh, he must if got bored waiting for you, you shurg it off heading to the living room to play some Nintendo while you wait for him to return.

Assuming that you bought his little note, he returns his attention to your panties, moving them from his face after one last long sniff, he stifles a moan, bringing the cloth to his throbbing cock, wrapping it with your panties. As much as the ghoul wanted to fuck you proper this was a close as he was gonna get for the time being, having his aching cock envelope by your heat would be a dream cum true, but having your fresh scent wrapped around his meat was a close second.

With the image of you moving your sex from him mouth to his cock for a ride, he began stroking himself once again, the image of you bouncing up and down on his cock, shouting out praises and your chest bounces. biting his knuckles while little moans and groans slip out, the demon couldnt help mumbling "you're so good for me Y/N, you like that? You love it dont you?". Bucking hard into his hand, his precum being soaked up by your undies, he knew he wasnt gonna last any longer, the thought of you begging him to finish inside of your pussy was more then enough to send him over the edge, soaking your little red panties with his cum, removing the garment, he cleans up the rest of his mess with the lacy cloth before pocketing it, he'll toss it in the wash later, as much as hed loved to slip it into your underwear drawer in Hope's youd wear them, you weren't that oblivious.

He finishes adjusting himself, straightening out his jacket and sliding his now soft cock back into his pants, the ghoul hums to himself completely content in himself.

Chilling on the couch playing animal crossing you are interrupted but a loud gravely voice "HONEY I'M HOME" glancing up in the direction of his voice the ghoul was next to you in a flash, you flinched at the sudden movement, beetlejuice drapes an arm over you shoulder and pulls you close

"Ya miss me babes? You smell real nice, but I'd rather you be hot a sweaty for me again, I got a few ideas in mind to get ya-" you shove him off

"Haha very funny, keep it up and no home delivery pizza tonight" you tease

Bj frowns for a second before pulling you back into him arms "babes you live for what I do too much to deny yourself the pleasure of my performance" he cackles

As much as you hate to give him the satisfaction, you admit your defeat and agree.

This was gonna be a great week together

[ajokeformur-ray]

Hiii again. I figured that submit option would be easier for this. ^^ 

I love your matchups, they’re so accurate and thought through.❤️ Can I have one too? My name’s Emily, I have blue hair and blue “husky” eyes, got two tattoos and plan to have more, I’m very pale and I hate people saying things like “you look like a ghost, go get a tan” I usually dress like a witch, but sometimes i doll myself up as a pinup girl to feel pretty.I’m autistic, depressed, have ADHD & ptsd (nice combo, ha?^^) I’m also sarcastic, reserved and have a dark sense of humor.I’m oversensitive to lights and noises. I don’t like being hugged or touched by strangers, but once i get comfortable with someone I transform into their koala.^^ My life is a bit messy, I try to do tasks on time and remember important things, but it’s hard. I have two kids cats, Lilith I found under the bridge and Harold in woods. I’m a big spooky fun, I love horror movies and Halloween. I like drawing (my arts are creepy tho, def not for everyone to see), playing guitar, singing, reading books, running and walking in the woods. I’m interested in psychology & astrophysics and I love when people want me to teach them something. I can’t live without music and my cats. @dont-be-alarmed

Hi, my love! 💙 Thank you so much, I spend a lot of time on matchups and it means a lot that you, one of my favourite writers, find them accurate! I hope this one lives up to your kind words and that you enjoy it! 💜 (I’m happy to redo it if not, angel!) I wanted to give back to you after all you’ve ever done for me and for this community, and so I went on your other blog and scrolled through; I found a post about yourself and Arthur and I’ve tried to incorporate pieces of that in here to make it as… emotionally you as I could. I hope that you don’t mind! 💚

Total word count: 3, 785.

Arthur // wc: 1, 755.

Arthur is… completely in awe of you. You caught his attention due to your bright blue hair; such a vibrant colour in the grimy streets of Gotham which are made up of much the same; grey concrete, grey walls, grey buildings, grey sky, is unusual and eye-catching. Arthur wants to be seen and he admires the courage you possess in having such a hair colour. And your eyes, oh… It’s canon that Arthur likes to touch people’s cheeks and he holds people’s faces in his hands, and when sea green meet your blues, the entire world stops and Arthur can only sink into you; for if eyes are windows to the soul then surely yours is radiant. You’re not afraid to paint the blank canvas which is your body and Arthur likes to trace your tattoos with a careful finger, his lips moving silently as he thinks to himself; he wants to know if there are stories behind them, why you got them, how badly they hurt, what they mean to you… if the mind is an ocean then Arthur wants to dive right into yours and discover your murkiest depths now. But he holds back; he doesn’t want to ruin what he’s building with you, and so every day when he discovers something new does he only fall deeper and deeper in love with you. You’re very pale and people are quick to point it out. If it happens in front of Arthur, he’s quick to frown, “Don’t say things like that to her, Emily’s perfect just as she is!”. He won’t tell people off when they say bad things about him, but about you? He has to stop himself from going feral and he contents himself with snapping at them or, if it’s something which is truly nasty, Arthur gives them such a look it’s like he’s trying to kill them without even touching them. His knees will bounce and he’ll giggle around his cigarette, but he’ll only be concerned for you. Arthur would do anything for you. No matter what you were, Arthur always compliments you sincerely; his voice soft and raspy because he’s barely able to speak through the rising laughing in his throat. Such is the effect you have on him.  

You and Arthur have so much in common. Sometimes when you talk to each other, it’s like you’re talking to yourself but you’re hearing it in a different voice. You have shared many experiences and there’s so much about Arthur which exists within yourself; you are both so worthy of love and you are both capable of being loved for exactly who you are, and in the early days first of friendship (though you begin to date quickly, both of you so eager to discover what may exist between you),  you mostly bond together over your shared dark sense of humour. Over the weeks which bleed into months, Arthur’s comedy material becomes more tailored to your sense of humour; for what you find funny and making you smile means more to him than anyone else. He could have a crowd at Pogo’s captivated but your smile would be the only one which he has eyes for. The both of you are so tried and tired, so weary and you’ve both been through so much more than people should ever have to go through, but you help each other and you’re there for each other as much as you can be every single day. You’re over sensitive to lights and to noises so when you’re out in public together, Arthur keeps a close eye on you. He learns the signs for when it’s becoming too much and the two of you talk often; late night discussions with dimmed lamps and a turned down volume on the TV, and the two of you learn how to help each other and how to be more open together. It’s a shared journey, this love between you, and it’s once in a lifetime. Neither of you could ever want this with anyone else. Arthur was almost shocked by the difference in you from when he first met you to when you became comfortable with him and all the ways in which you showed affection changed and became more intimate, but he takes it as a compliment. You’re so comfortable with him and he cherishes that information above anything else. He’s just as comfortable with you, and he tries to show you every single day the depths of the love which he holds for you.  

Your life is as messy as Arthur’s is busy, but the two of you make it work as best as you can. You do your best to remember important things but it’s hard, and for everything you forget is Arthur there to remind you. Sometimes he has to leave the apartment before you so he’ll leave a quickly scrawled note taped to the front door in big letters so you can see it even from a distance, or he’ll make sure that you’ve got everything ready in the same place, like right next to or on top of your shoes so they can’t be forgotten. Your two kitties, Lilith and Harold, are doted upon by yourself and by Arthur. He had always wanted a pet, someone or something to come home to whom was happy to see him, and now he has three beings who love him: you, Lilith and Harold. The fact that you rescued both of your children shows the true depths of your heart and Arthur’s in awe of you. He adores watching you interact with them. It always makes him coo and the ice in his heart which is left over from the day melts away and then evaporates completely at the touch of your hand and the sound of your voice. You love horror films and Hallowe’en and Arthur loves watching how excited you get when October rolls around! Carving pumpkins together, creating decorations and the jokes just get darker and more morbid… he comes to love the holiday as much as you do, though he’s not as fond of horror films as you are. Life is horrifying enough and if he wants to be scared, he’ll just watch the news - but when you’re more comfortable together and you’re his koala, he likes to cling to you and hide his face in your neck as a way of becoming closer to you. Arthur cherishes the few scant hours he gets with you every night. It’s yours and his favourite time of day and it only makes your daily hardships almost worth it.   

You are… extremely creative. Your writing is so descriptive and so vivid, your drawing is beautiful, you can sing, you play an instrument… music runs through your soul just as surely as it does within Arthur, and one night when Arthur was much too shy to tell you that he loved you, he instead said, “you are the music in me”. It’s an admission which, years later, still haunts you in the best way. If you ever let him read what you have written or view what you have created, though he may be creeped out, he would still compliment you sincerely and ask you some questions, wanting to see things through your beautiful blue eyes. If you’re open to the idea, Arthur would love to sit down and listen to you sing and play the guitar; and if you have ever written any songs for him, they would bring tears to his eyes and he would find himself choking down laughter. How can you love him this much? Just as much as you have become more open and kinder to yourself in loving Arthur, so has he because of your love, and the two of you walk hand in hand down the path of life together, leading each other into your better selves; such is the power of love. When you read, Arthur likes to write in his journal and the sounds of his scrawling are the perfect accompaniment to the sounds of your turning the pages of the book you cradle in the palm of your hands as surely as you hold Arthur’s heart in your hands. Though he never asks, Arthur would love to go with you on a walk through the woods. You can see it in his eyes sometimes, how desperately he wants to go with you, but he’s too afraid of rejection and too shy. When you come back from your running, the bathroom is all ready for you to have a shower, there are clean clothes out for you and dinner is ready. Arthur does everything he can to take the best care of you possible; for truly do you deserve nothing less than the best of everything in life. 

You’re interested in a variety of subjects and as a way to engage with you, for he so loves the way your eyes and face light up when you’re talking about the things you’re passionate about, Arthur would sit down with you and ask you questions. Even if he doesn’t fully understand what you’re talking about, especially with astrophysics, he still sits and he listens and Arthur engages with you. And if you have a hyperfixation, then he’s right there with you. He validates your interests and wants to know as much as you’re willing to share with him! It’s just another way for him to spend time with you, to get to know you, to tell you that he loves you. You’ve spent many a night talking the time away about your interests and you have so much in common that it’s unsurprising that you feel like you have known each other forever. Music and cats are your life and Arthur protects everything that he knows about you, because you mean the entire world to him and you deserve to know just how much he loves you! No matter where you go, what you do or who you become, Arthur loves you for all of you - he’s learned all the ways to help you through your various struggles, through the things which you go through (including the ones only you know about), and he does everything he can to help you, to love you the way that you deserve to be. Even when he’s so, so tired, the two of you pull each other through life with your joined hands, fingers interlocked… and neither of you will ever let go of the other.

Joker // wc: 2, 030.

By now,  you and Joker know each other like the backs of your hands. There isn’t much that you don’t know about each other, though of course is it impossible to ever really know someone in their entirety, so every day do you discover something new about one another which only makes you fall deeper in love with each other. Even though you know each other so well, Joker still finds himself wanting to completely dive into who you are to find out everything all at once; to view the tapestry of your life in its entirety without having to wait for the discovery of something else. He loves you so much it hurts him in the best way. Your name is Joker’s favourite word and he sometimes catches himself whispering it when he needs some extra strength or a reason to slow the rage in his veins, which threatens to poison his heart and turn his soul away from the goodness which still exists in his very core, unchanged is he deep inside himself where he is safest. You were there with Arthur through it all and you only loved him more as the man he was now. With your bright blue hair and Joker’s electric green hair, the two of you catch people’s attention when you’re out in public; Gothamites aren’t known for their courageous self expression, so wearied and beaten are they by the soulless and relentless demands of the city. The two of you like to redye your hair together; even if Joker’s hair has faded back into his naturally dark curls, he will wait for you to need to redye your hair. Joker dyes your hair and you dye his and the flecks of blue and green blend and merge together in the bathroom sink; Joker likes to get messy so green runs all down his back and pools into the waistband of his baggy underwear, and he ends up making more mess than you do. Joker adores your tattoos and he knows the reasons and stories behind them as well as you do and he gets excited when you talk about having more. Joker’s less forgiving now when people make comments about how pale you are, and he’s not afraid to narrow his eyes, his nostrils flaring slightly in anger, and fire back a few well-timed insults of his own. Whether you dress like a witch or as a pinup girl, Joker is in awe of you and sometimes he literally chokes on air because he’s just so stunned by you and all that you are; you’re so beautiful inside and out and he just can’t believe, even now, how lucky he is to be loved by you. 

Just because Joker gave up on his own mental health - he stopped taking his medications, he stopped taking care of himself and he stopped caring - it didn’t mean that he would ever allow you to do the same. Joker wanted nothing but the best for you and he would do anything he could for you. This, combined with the fact that Joker knows exactly how to support you and how to look after you when you need to be loved extra hard. Both of you are worthy of being loved for exactly who you are, and when you feel like you’re unwanted and not capable of being loved, Joker cradles you on his lap - your favourite seat - and  tucks your head into his chest, his heartbeat pounding in your ear to ground you and to calm you. He knows how to hold you, how to talk to you, how to comfort you, and he even knows how to ground himself and also you in the same touches. If anyone understands you and what you go through every single day, it’s Arthur, and that’s never been and would never be any different. You’re sarcastic and Joker enjoys playful banter between the two of you. He knows when you’re being sarcastic because you’re having fun and when you’re being sarcastic because your mood is low, but either way will Joker snap back. He enjoys swapping comments with you if that’s something you like to do, and by now his dark humour is perfectly tailored to your own. Of all the citizens in Gotham, your smile is the only one which matters and your laughter is the only one Joker closes his eyes to fully savour. You are Joker’s koala now and he loves every touch which you gift him with. Coming home to you is the absolute favourite part of Joker’s every day and sometimes he stays away for just a little longer so that he can get an extra enthusiastic hug or some clingy touches. You’re over sensitive to lights and noises and Joker is used to keeping the TV on a certain volume and to buying a certain type of light bulb so that the lamps are always dim enough for you. You are always Joker’s main priority and that will never be any different. You’re his entire world and when he cups your face in his hands to kiss you, he likes to say, “I’ve got the whole world in my hands, Emily. Look after it for me, okay?”. The first time you did it back to him, he almost sobbed with love for you even as he nodded and said, “mm-hm”. The sound was smug even with how overwhelmed he was in that moment and your stomach swooped; as again did you only love him more.

Your life is still a bit messy but oh, you do your best. Joker knows better than anybody how it can feel to do your best and to still feel like you’re not doing enough, like you’re not trying enough, like you’re not good enough for all of the demands and responsibilities which are daily placed on you without reprieve or without a break, and he continues to do everything he can to help you, to be there for you and to support you. He leaves notes lying around to help you remember to do things, to not forget things, and if ever you do forget something, Joker’s there to do it for you. There is only ever love in the things he does. Looking after you and being there for you and loving you is the reason Joker does what he does, the reason he tries every single day to reconnect with the man you first fell in love with. Oh, but he was still that man; he had only stopped caring, he had only succumbed to all that was making him numb, and every day did you love him just as fiercely and just as strongly as you always had. Your two cats are spoiled rotten by the both of you; Joker still loves to watch you interact with them and when chaos is shut away, when his suit is hung up and his face is washed, Joker likes to sit on the sofa with you to watch the news with your children around you; his fingers in their fur or in your hair, and the two of you talk quietly. About your days, about the things you need to do tomorrow, how you have been feeling... the evenings are ticked away in this way, with the two of you indulging only in each other. You love horror films and Hallowe’en and still does Joker love how excited you get! He joins in with you now with the celebration and the decorations, but instead of hiding within you now while you watch horror films, scared did he used to be, he now watches you with them and cracks dark jokes. In one film, the screaming victim got decapitated and Joker snorted and said, “Talk about losing your head when it gets crazy out there”. It’s up to you if you join in with him but if you do, he will turn to the side to give you his attention, only just watching whatever is on the old and grainy screen. He loves to cuddle with you and if you ever get scared of the things you watch, Joker assumes the protective role as he cuddles you. “Nothing’s going to hurt you, Emily. Joker’s here.”. He would die for you, kill for you... you’re his entire world and he loves you with everything that he is, everything that he has. 

You are very creative and to this day, Joker is still in awe of everything that you’re able to do. Your writing is so beautiful and everything that you create is beautiful. Your arts are creepy but Joker’s not creeped out by them anymore. Long ago did he stare into the abyss and see it staring back, so what used to negatively affect him rarely does now. “Awh, that’s sweet.” // “Joker, it’s - there’s blood all over the - “ // “Yeah,” He shrugs, “But it’s sweet in a morbid way, you know?” You thought you did, but you weren’t entirely sure. Either way, you were just glad that he liked your arts. His support meant the world to you. You have an entire playlist of songs you would like to play for Joker, and when you ask if you can play for him, Joker beams and practically runs across the room to sit down for you, running a hand through those dyed green curls which bounce gently against the tops of his shoulders as he does so. Joker is transfixed by the way you play the guitar; your hands are one of his favourite parts of you because they create pure magic every single day. You love to read and when you do, Joker tends to read through his old journal. It’s a quiet time for the both of you and it’s most likely that Joker will want to cuddle with you while you do these things; so that you can spend time together... separately. Occasionally, Joker might read a joke out loud; they’ll be dark jokes, ones which make you laugh because you know not how else to react, and he’ll soak in your response. Don’t fake your laughter, though, Joker will notice and he won’t appreciate that. By now, he’s used to your routine when it comes to running and walking in the woods, so he doesn’t ask if he can go with you - he’ll know if you want him to join you by the way you said goodbye to him. If you linger near him, he’ll know that you want him to join you; but if you’re quickly out of the door, then he knows he should stay. When you come home, everything is ready for you to get clean and comfortable; for Joker will always do what he can to look after you, no matter what!

On the nights when everything he’s ever said and done catches up to him, or when the world is just too loud and you need everything and everyone to go away, the two of you hole up in the bedroom. If Joker is the one who needs comforting, then you’re the one who reads to him or tells him about anything you’re currently hyperfixated on or curious about, but if you’re the one who needs comforting then Joker reads from his old journal or reads your current book to you. You can’t live without music or your cats and that’s precisely why Joker protects everything that you hold most dear to you, and that includes his own self. The both of you are so similar in so many ways and you have both shared many of the same experiences. You have so much love between you, so much need to be seen, known and loved, and you both have a dark sense of humour. You’re both strong and brave, creative and so full of love, and no matter what happens or who you both become, you will fall together again and again... and again. You’re soulmates and you’re truly meant to be, and that’s all that matters. Arthur Fleck loves you for all of you, through every rise and fall!

[saint-of-los-angeles]

Don’t Go Away Mad

WOW HERE IT IS, THE LONGEST FIC I HAVE DONE. This fic was done with a coauthor, the beautiful, wonderful, talented @merryy-go-round. I’m seriously like proud of this fic and I know she is too. THANK YOU GIRL, I LOVE YOU!!!

Summery: “Tommy was dying, this had to be what death felt like. There was no other way to describe the feeling of impending doom that he was being crushed under at hearing those words. Those horrible words, uttered from a total fucking stranger’s mouth. Nikki was dead, he was gone forever, he would never look into his green eyes again.”

Another take on Nikki’s overdose and the impact it has on Tommy.

Warnings: Drug use, Overdose, general sadness. But y’all know I dont do sad endings.

Pairing: Nikki Sixx/ Tommy Lee

TAGGING A FEW PEOPLE I THINK MAY LIKE. (If you dont want tagged, feel free to message and tell me, I wont be offended I swear) @malibubarbievince @tommyysixx @the--blackdahlia @stellalux-universe @devil-shouted @sixx-tommy-roger-john @motherfucker-oftheyear @jenerallymarvelous @fan-with-issues

After a grueling press release for their upcoming album, Tommy was fucking drained, and all he wanted to do was go home, to Nikki’s, and soak up the last bits of peace before their upcoming tour began. Tommy lived for the moments where he could have the older man all to himself, when he could take the time to just study the bassist’s face and bask in the fact that he was his. Although the deeper Nikki sunk into his love affair with his liquid mistress, the farther in between these moments became.

Tommy tried so, so hard not to dwell on it, to just be happy with the time he did get with Nikki. Something was better than nothing right? They would be out of there in just a matter of minutes, if Vince would just stop fucking talking for once, and Tommy would be able to spend his night catching up on some much needed alone time with Nikki.

They didn’t have anywhere that they had to be until after Christmas day. This means Tommy gets to spend three whole days with his boyfriend, uninterrupted, which was a rare fucking feat in the crazy lives they lived. Tommy wondered if he should have the driver make a detour to stop by Nikki’s favorite restaurant to brighten his mood. He was getting way too fucking skinny, these days. Or maybe they could go to that new music store that the older man had mentioned a few weeks ago, anything, really to put a smile on Nikki’s face was fucking worth it to Tommy, a smile that he had put there, as compared to the one he gets when he’s melting down his liquid gold in a dirty spoon.

As he was mentally constructing up the perfect evening in his head, he was snapped out of his daydreaming by a rather loud sigh that rolled out from between the bassist’s lips. Nikki looked beyond impatient, and beyond ready for this press conference to just fucking end already, and to everyone else, it may look like Nikki was just ready to finally relax and get some fucking rest.  But Tommy wasn’t everyone else, and he felt the hope that he had in place for the ‘perfect night’ ahead of them extinguish like a match on a windy day.

Nikki could care less about getting out of here to spend time with Tommy, Nikki just wanted to get high.

Both men could feel the tension developing in their relationship around the time that the older man met his love affair in the form of heroin, and it was taking a toll on both of them. Before heroin, Tommy never really thought to worry about Nikki’s intake of illegal substances, because duh. Rockstars, remember?

Tommy had always previously seen the bassist as indestructible when it came to drugs. Nikki knew how to handle himself and had everything under perfect control, he had promised Tommy that he knew what he was doing and would never do anything to leave Tommy all alone. When Tommy thinks back to how fucking naive he was to think that anyone is above addiction, he has to laugh at himself. The drummer was always a little too optimistic, and maybe he still is.

Too optimistic about his relationship being perfectly normal, and healthy, and thinking things will work out on their own. Too optimistic, too stupid to realize that he has lost the Nikki that he fell so hard for, the Nikki that could look into his eyes and tell him he loved him more than anything and mean it. As much as Tommy knew he was living in a world of denial, he hoped that tonight, for just one night he could just close his eyes and pretend that he was still the most important thing in Nikki’s life.  

Nikki had been visibly irritated throughout the entire conference and Tommy barely refrained from rolling his eyes at the sight of Nikki’s clenched jaw and bouncing leg. He knew that look, he had seen it too many times over the past few months. Nikki just wanted to get the fuck out of there, so he could shoot up, and what else was new?

What had started out as yet another recreational drug to add to the long fucking list of drugs that Crue did on a daily basis, had turned into something much more sinister for the bassist, and Tommy couldnt even put a pinpoint to the moment that the drug had stolen his boyfriend, the love of his life, away from him. Maybe it was easier to ignore the alarming amount of track marks, and the always present slur in the man’s voice than to face the fact that the man he loved more than anything was a fucking junkie, and on his way to an early grave.

Before heroin, Nikki could sit and listen to Tommy ramble for hours about drum fills, how annoying his hair was being that day, how much he missed his parents, anything really. He’d sit there and listen to Tommy with a smile on his face and this look in his eyes like there was absolutely nowhere else he’d rather be.

These days, however, Tommy found himself fighting to be the center of attention for more than just a few minutes. Nikki had found a new subject of affection, and from the looks of it, the bassist probably hasn’t shot up since before they got to the conference building, which was over 4 hours ago.

As the press conference finally came to a close, thanks for finally shutting up Vince, Tommy frowned as he studied his boyfriend a little more closely. He could see the sheen of sweat that coated Nikki’s face as the bassist stood and then turned to shoot him a quick, almost nervous glance. It was the look that Tommy had seen 100 times, it was nerves mixed with guilt and it always meant that Tommy wasn't going to like what Nikki had to say.

“Hey babe, I’m gonna head out. Slash invited me out to this thing and you said you wanted to go home and crash so...” He trailed off, shrugging his shoulders and avoiding eye contact at all cost. Tommy scoffed loudly causing Nikki to shoot him a surprised glance.

Tommy rarely objected to these things, knowing it was a losing battle anyway, and being too afraid to send the older man scattering away to a hiding spot that he would eventually die in, but something about Nikki’s tone, as if he expected Tommy to just be totally fine with being ditched had Tommy unable to bite his tongue this time.

“Yeah, as in go home and crash with you,” Tommy began as he stood, stepping in front of the exit to prevent the other man from leaving. “My boyfriend who hasn’t spoken more than ten sentences to me today. Seriously you can’t go one fucking night with choosing me over shooting that fucking poison into your neck, Nik?” Tommy’s sharp tone surprised even himself, as stared down into the slightly shorter man’s eyes.

All of the feelings of fear, frustration and anger that Tommy had been suppressing for months seemed to come to the surface and it surprised him as much as it surprised Nikki. The older man’s eyes reflected the hurt and confusion at his words, who then was shushing him when he noticed the stares from various bystanders who were still lingering around the large room.

Tommy continued speaking without bothering to lower his voice. “What Nikki? Don’t want everyone to think you’re some sort of junkie?” The words felt cruel coming out of his mouth and he almost instantly felt sick to his stomach saying the word “junkie” to Nikki, but he couldn’t back down now. He watched the other man still at his words and watched as his expression shifted from confused to pissed.

“You know what Tommy, fuck you. I don’t need your fucking permission. Just fuck off.” The bassist was sneering at Tommy as he twirled around to leave.

“Hey, we aren’t done with this!” Tommy started as he reached to grab Nikki’s shoulder to spin him around to face the drummer’s fiery eyes once again. Tommy was a little shocked over his own actions, where did this wave of anger come from? They had small arguments all the time, they were both passionate, headstrong people, but things never escalated to the point where things were unmendable. If Tommy stopped now things would go back to how they were, and they would just ignore that this ever happened. But no, fuck that, Tommy was upset, he had been for fucking months and he had held it in for as long as he could, and now that he had let a little out, he couldnt seem to reel in his emotions.

Nikki looked just as shocked as Tommy did, but underneath his bewildered expression at the treatment he was receiving from his usually happy and carefree boyfriend, was the desperation of an addict that just wanted to fucking shoot up already, and Tommy was preventing that.

“Yes we fucking are Tommy, I’m done with this conversation, Slash is waiting for me, I’ll see you later.” Tommy could hear the barely restrained anger bubbling under Nikki’s words and something about that irked him to no end. How dare Nikki be upset, when he’s the one leaving Tommy to go home alone for the thousandth fucking time, so that he can go inject some poison into his veins?

“Nikki, if you fucking leave, don’t expect me to be there when you get home.” The words felt foreign and WRONG on Tommy’s lips. Part of him wanted to immediately retract the statement and hug Nikki, because back when Nikki and him had first admitted their feelings, Nikki had admitted in a moment of pure trust and love that Tommy leaving him was always his worst fear. Tommy always promised him that nothing he could do would ever push him away. But Tommy was so angry, and above anything else, he was hurt that Nikki would put some amber liquid in a needle above him,  who had always been there for him, even when the bassist was terrified of love and tried pushing him away.

"I swear if you leave then I am done with this shit. I can’t watch you do this anymore. You are killing yourself, you do realize that right? I mean, fuck Nikki, I don’t know if I would have fallen in love with you if you were this person when we met.”

Tommy watched as Nikki’s shocked expression turned into pure hurt for a split second, before morphing into the most venomous sneer Tommy had ever seen from Nikki. He knew before the words were out of his mouth that he had gone too far. Nikki had barely been controlling his anger before, but at the harsh words it was as if a switch was flipped.

His loving boyfriend was nowhere to be found. Tommy had never felt afraid of Nikki before, but the look of pure disbelief and fear mixed with anger and confusion was enough to scare him. Tommy could tell that Nikki had completely shut down at this point, and could see the tremors the man was succumbing to, whether it was from the need for drugs, or from holding back his anger, he didn’t know.

Tommy would prefer a punch straight to the face rather than see the pain that he caused on the elder’s features, it would be substantially less painful.

Even Mick, who had been sitting awkwardly on one of the plush couches that the pair had just been occupying even looked shocked at the explosion that seemed to come from nowhere.

Tommy was about to speak again, the overwhelming feelings of guilt and regret immediately replacing the feelings of anger. He was just hurt, and he wanted to just tell Nikki that, how he felt like sometimes he couldn’t fucking breathe when he thought about Nikki out there shooting up a substance that could end his life one day, but Nikki beat him to it.

“You know what, you’re right, Tom. I have changed, and maybe I’m tired of having a boyfriend who just bitches about everything I do instead of having any fucking fun. Thanks for the fucking reality check, babe.” Nikki all but ground out with eyes hardening more and more, the more he spoke. “If you’ll excuse me, I have important business to tend to. You know how us junkies are.” Tommy could barely hear the crack in the older man’s voice that caused his heart to ache, and all he wanted to do was just take it back.

Before Tommy could get his mouth to connect with his brain Nikki was already storming off in the direction of the exit. Using his shoulder to push past the stunned drummer, roughly jolting him to the side.

Mick stared in silence at the youngest member of the band, when Vince decided that he finally wanted to grace the rest of them with his presence, all smiles as he bounded over to Tommy, throwing a casual arm around his shoulder. “Guess we can ditch this place, yeah? Dude, where’s Nikki?”

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After a quiet explanation of the bassist’s whereabouts, Tommy allowed himself to be drug along to Vince’s favorite strip club, and honestly he was grateful for the distraction. He had never been so appreciative of Mick’s non-prying nature and Vince’s absolute inability to worry about anything that doesn’t directly affect his life. If he had gone to his empty apartment he was sure he would be driven mad by the constant replay of the look of betrayal and hurt on Nikki’s face in his mind. So here he sits with his fifth- no sixth?- whiskey sour and he wants more than anything to press rewind and take everything back.

Now that he had calmed down and had time to process what the fuck had happened, and the words exchanged, he was left with such intense feelings of self loathing that he was sure that he would collapse under the pressure if not for the barstool he was currently sat on. Why did he snap at Nikki like that?

Despite Nikki’s shitty attitude and distant nature lately, he knew deep down that Nikki was really sick, and he had always been bad at expressing love in relationships, why should this relationship be any different? Tommy wanted to help Nikki through his issues, not make them worse.

Tommy had already started making plans to apologize to Nikki as soon as possible when his world suddenly changed forever. He didn’t process the words when he heard them, he just blankly looked up to stare at these three dudes talking amongst themselves, arms waving dramatically in what appeared to be disbelief.

“Dude, did you hear?”

“Nikki Sixx overdosed on smack dude, he was hanging out with Slash from Guns and Roses, he’s the one who found him.”

“Shut up”

“I swear, dude, so long Motley Crue, huh? Fucking sucks, I loved them.”

No.

Nikki didn’t overdose, not even in Tommy’s worst fucking nightmares did Nikki overdose. Nikki swore he’d never leave him, swore he had it under control. How the fuck did these guys know Nikki was with Slash tonight? This wasn’t true, this couldn’t be fucking true, but everything in Tommy’s gut was telling him it was.

What the fuck, what the fuck, what the FUCK?

Tommy was dying, this had to be what death felt like. There was no other way to describe the feeling of impending doom that he was being crushed under at hearing those words. Those horrible words, uttered from a total fucking stranger’s mouth. Nikki was dead, he was gone forever, he would never look into his green eyes again, and what was the last thing that Tommy had even said to Nikki? It sure as hell wasn’t ‘I love you’ or anything that would have told the bassist that he was Tommy’s entire universe, because he was goddamnit.

No, his last words were spoken in rage and Tommy didn’t think he could handle this much, he was choking, he was dying, but death would be preferable at this point, because his options were either die, or live a life without Nikki.

Not even feeling or acknowledging the tears on his cheeks that fell from his puffy eyes, Tommy brought a hand up and put it over his chest, feeling his heart pump pump pumping under his fingertips and let out what could only be described as a primal wail.

He willed his heart to fall still under his fingers because nothing could be worse than this, nothing could be worse than this raw, gnawing pain that seemed to start in his chest and overtake his whole being. He could feel Vince’s hand on his shoulder, but the touch of comfort only burned him. He didn’t want the comfort, he didn’t want to feel comfort in a world where Nikki no longer existed.

Vince was definitely yelling his name now, lightly smacking his cheek in a sorry attempt to get him to snap out of the trance he had fallen in, but Tommy felt like he was underwater. Everything was coming out muffled, his ears felt stuffed full and most of all he felt like he was drowning, suffocating under the weight of the information he had just learned from these total fucking strangers.

Tommy forced himself to make eye contact with his lead singer, taking in the unshed tears in the blonde’s eyes that were overflowing with a mixture of grief for his late bandmate, and overwhelming concern for the one he left behind.

He wanted to talk to Vince, to lie and tell him that he was okay but he needed to go process this information alone, but he just couldn't bring his brain to form a coherent lie. He opened his mouth to speak, and all that came out were strangled sobs as he reached up to grab fistfuls of his own hair, tugging on the dark locks out of pure desperation. He felt Vince’s hands under his armpits, and he realized he must have been falling at some point, struggling to keep his own feet underneath him, but it was like all his body even knew how to do in this moment was cry.

“Tommy- Jesus Christ man- I don’t- I’m so fucking sorry- I…” Vince looked absolutely lost, completely unsure what to say, and wrecked if Tommy was being honest, and despite really wanting to comfort his friend of so many years, because Vince had lost Nikki too, Tommy did the only thing he physically could at the moment- he told Vince the truth.

“I- I wish I was fucking dead too, Vin- I can’t…”

Tommy regretted allowing that feeling to slip past his lips immediately as he looked into the widening eyes of his frontman, and as Vince opened his lips to respond, Tommy was turning and sprinting out of the club, shoving past anyone in his way. He could vaguely hear Vince yelling his name behind him and the fading sound of Vince’s boots pounding behind him.

Tommy was gratefu thatl the adrenaline and his longer legs could get him the fuck out of there, away from Vince’s worried eyes, away from those strangers who knew that his boyfriend was dead before he even did, and away from that nightmare of a club.

He knew he’d never be able to step foot in that place ever again.

—-

Tommy wasn’t sure how he even made it to Nikki’s house, honestly. Everything leading up to this moment was a blur in time, making Tommy question how long it had even been since he heard the devastating news.

Not that it mattered, time had no meaning to the drummer anymore.

Raising his hand to knock on the door, the younger man stopped himself and let out a sob at the realization that there was no fucking point in knocking. No one lived here anymore.

So Tommy took out his spare key instead, the metal seemingly burning in his hands as he opened the door to the house he had entered so many times, but now that would never be the same.

There would be no more late night conversations in this house, no more early morning make out sessions- morning breath and all. No more hiding out in Nikki’s music room, writing lyrics and banging out drum fills until the sun rose through the tall windows of Nikki’s second story. No more pathetic attempts at surprising Nikki with brunch- only to set off every single fire alarm the bassist had in the house. No more smiling, no more laughter, no more making love.

Not in this house and not anywhere in the drummer’s life, ever again.

Tears were giving way to anger at this point. Anger at himself for not just flushing all of Nikki’s shit, anger at Nikki for not just coming home with him tonight, and anger at the universe for taking the best thing in Tommy’s life and keeping it somewhere where he would never be able to reach.

That anger needed an outlet, and that outlet came in the form of absolutely destroying anything that the drummer could get his hands on. Everything pissed him off to look at. Everything in this house was just a horrible reminder of what he had lost and in that moment, Tommy wanted everything to feel just as wrecked as he did.

Ignoring the sting in his hands as he threw various vases, records, and other breakable objects against the walls, Tommy was oblivious to the tears that flowed from his eyes as his fist made contact with the TV screen and his foot kicked a sizable hole in his late boyfriend’s drywall.

Tommy’s chest was heaving with the struggle to take in air as he knelt on the floor in the wreckage he had created. Nikki’s place was unrecognizable, and he could feel his knees stinging from the sharp prick of the broken glass he was kneeling in- and where the fuck did that come from, anyway?

Tommy could finally see the scene around him, as his body had run out of tears. The tears had dried up, his body had no more to give, but the sobs remained, choking him in a vice like grip around his throat, and all Tommy could think was he wished that these sobs could actually choke him to death, so he could see Nikki and tell him that he loved him, and that he didn’t mean a goddamn word he said when they had all those stupid fucking fights.

As Tommy continued to survey the scene around him, he noticed a baggie poking out from underneath Nikki’s couch, and he knew instantly what that baggie contained.

Heroin was never his drug of choice, he preferred the euphoric burst of energy and unbridled emotions that cocaine gave him. Tommy loved feeling emotions, everything he felt, he felt in excess, it had always been that way, so the synthetic effects of cocaine on his emotions were always a good time to the drummer.

At first, Tommy could feel nothing but all encompassing anger surging through his veins the longer he looked at the corner of that baggie, because that evil shit took his Nikki away, but the more Tommy thought about it, the more he realized that Nikki took those drugs because they numbed him, and there was nothing on this Earth that Tommy wanted more than for this pain to go away.

It was as if his body was on autopilot, and he was now standing with the small bag clenched in his fist, relishing in the sting of his fingernails digging into his palm. He shuddered as his choking sobs dwindled down to hiccups. What was the point of life without Nikki anyways? How the fuck would he ever feel joy again after this night? Tommy just wanted for everything to just stop.

Tommy had only done this devil drug once before, the curiosity surrounding the drug turned into an impulse decision one late night a few months prior, in this very house, with the very man he was mourning.

Tommy was laying on Nikki’s bed, watching as the bassist started to nod off from the drugs injected only moments ago. Tommy frowned at the sight of the bloody needle now laying loosely in the man’s open fist, the object mesmerized the drummer. That tiny object brought his boyfriend so much pleasure, he was almost jealous.

“What does it feel like?” The younger man asked, not for the first time. He was always curious, the euphoric look on Nikki’s face after shooting up had always seemed to outdo any other drug that he subjected himself to, and Tommy just wanted to know what the hype was about.

“You wanna find out?” Nikki had murmured back, his response slightly delayed as his cloudy mind processed the other man’s words. Even in his hazy state, it took the bassist by surprise when Tommy stated that he did, in fact, want to shoot up.

Tommy didn’t remember much from that night aside from Nikki’s still hands calming his shaking arm, nerve’s wracking his lanky frame as the older man plunged the liquid poison into his veins.

He also remembered Nikki’s hands rubbing up and down his back, holding his hair back, and Nikki’s voice soothing him as he emptied his stomach into the toilet for what must have been the 5th time that night.

After that night Tommy had sworn to never use heroin again. He didn’t like the nausea or the feeling of being numb. He didn’t understand why Nikki would ever want to feel so empty all of the time, but right now, it seemed like Tommy’s only way out of this nightmare.

With shaking hands Tommy moved to the closet where he knew Nikkis kept his rigs and clean needles. With a pang in his chest he wondered if he should have fought harder to stop his boyfriend from destroying himself, if as angry as he had been with Nikki this whole time, if this was actually his fault all along. If he could have saved the bassist from himself after all, if he had just flushed his shit and forced him into rehab.

The thought of that was too painful to bear.

Having watched Nikki do this so many times Tommy felt almost proud of himself in a sick way for knowing exactly how to do this. Taking the now prepared syringe over to Nikki’s well worn in couch he sat on the floor with his back resting against the couch, and took a deep breath. A quick, borderline hysterical laugh escaped his lips as he realized he was really going to do this.

He was such a fucking hypocrite.

For the first time in his life, Tommy relished in the pain that came from prick of the needle instead of cringing away from it, because it was the first time since hearing the news that Tommy felt anything besides the pain of losing Nikki.

As he pushed the plunger down Tommy relished in the warm escape, taking note of the lack of nausea he felt this time.

‘Hey maybe Nikki was right, it does go away.’ Tommy’s hand fell away loosely and his head lolled forward as the drugs coursed through his veins, and he felt his overwhelming emotional pain ebb away into an undeniable bliss.

The last coherent thought that Tommy had before succumbing to the warm darkness around him was of piercing green eyes and long black hair.

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Nikki’s first thoughts upon waking up in the hospital were of Tommy. Of course they were, he loved that boy, and he had said horrible fucking things to him, he missed him, he needed him.

He felt alone for the first time since Tommy and he had made themselves official.

He didn’t focus on anything the doctors were saying, didn’t listen to their cries of protest as he ripped  out his IV, feeling the blood dripping down to his wrist for the second time that day, to shove his way out of the hospital doors before anyone could keep him longer, preventing him from seeing the only thing that could really heal him at the moment. He wanted, no needed, to see Tommy to explain for himself what had happened, that it had been an accident, he never meant to leave him. He couldn’t imagine if the roles were reversed, and he was under the impression that the love of his life had died without him and with a needle in his arm.

The thought made him sick.

His first thought was to go straight to Tommy’s place, but when he arrived, his heart dropped when he saw that the other man’s car was nowhere to be found. Shaking his head in defeat, he used his key to enter anyway, disappointed but not surprised when he found the apartment empty and dark. Rushing into the kitchen, he picked up Tommy’s phone and dialed his own phone number, slamming the phone down in frustration when he hit his own voicemail.

Nikki took a deep breath and dialed Vince’s number, hoping that the singer might know the whereabouts of his missing boyfriend.

Tommy didn’t know it, but Nikki had asked Vince several times in rare moments of drunken vulnerability to always watch after Tommy if he couldn't, and he prayed that the singer had held up his promise that he would.

“Tommy! Jesus fuck, man, thank god you’re okay.” That was not what Nikki had hoped to hear, and the crack in Vince’s intensely relieved voice did nothing to sooth the burning pit in his stomach when he learned that no- Tommy wasn’t with Vince, and he seemed pretty fucking worried about the drummer.

“Listen, Tommy, it was a big fucking misunderstanding. Just stay there and I’m gonna come over there right now and we can go to the hospital-” Nikki couldn't listen to anymore of this, and cut the other man off before he could continue.

“Wait up, Vince, it’s me.” Shocked silence met Nikki’s ear in reply, and god dammit Vince, you choose now to shut up?

“It’s Nikki, Vin. I’m trying to find Tommy, where the fuck is he? Why wouldn’t he be okay?” The bassist could hear the desperation in his own voice as he spoke, and willed Vince to open his fucking mouth because one more minute of not knowing where his scared, hurting boyfriend was was probably going to kill him and-

“Nikki? Oh god, you fucking idiot, it’s so good to hear your voice. I don't know what to do, Nik, Tommy lost his shit on me when he heard you were dead, and has been missing ever since. I’ve never seen him like that, he kept talking all this nonsense about wanting to die too, he ran and he was too fucking fast that long legged motherfucker-” Nikki slammed the phone down back onto it’s base not even bothering to respond as sprinted out the front door and hailed the first taxi that came by, spewing out the address to his home in Van Nuys. He hoped that he would find Tommy at the place that held the majority of their memories.

He also hoped he didn’t fucking puke on the way there, because the thought of Tommy running away after finding out his boyfriend was dead and talking about wanting to join him made Nikki’s stomach lurch more than his own overdose ever could.

Upon arriving at his house, he knew that something was off when he noticed that his front door was unlocked. Now on high alert he walked slowly through the threshold and paused, shocked at the sight in front of him.

The house was absolutely trashed. Not in a ‘party that got too out of hand’ way though, no this was done with intent. Before he could dwell too much on the state of his place he noticed a figure on his couch and the image before him would haunt him for the rest of his life.

Nikki swore his heart stopped for the second time that day upon seeing his boyfriend slumped against the couch, needle sticking out of his arm with blood dried all the way down to his wrist, looking all but dead with his skin a shade paler than normal, and his dark hair falling in front of his face.

Nikki wanted to move, wanted to go shake shake shake Tommy until he woke up, until he saw those beautiful brown eyes that he never failed to get lost in, but his feet were glued to the floor.

This was his fucking fault.

He chose to blow the love of his fucking life off for fucking heroin, continued to do so for fucking months, got himself killed, and wouldn’t it be so fucking ironic if Nikki was given a second chance at life, only to find Tommy dead from a drug overdose?

It was like the universe knew that the only thing worse to Nikki than being dead, is not having Tommy, and it wasn’t hesitating to throw that terrifying piece of information right into Nikki’s face.

Begging his feet to move, his body finally listened to his brain as he stumbled towards Tommy, falling forward onto his hands and knees to crawl himself towards the drummer, fear still knotting up his gut.

His fingers itched to touch Tommy, to move the hair out of his face, feel his neck for a pulse, do something, ANYTHING. It took his mind a few seconds to convince his body to move, and Nikki sobbed in relief when his fingertips came into contact with a warm, very much alive cheek.

Suddenly feeling as if he had control of his body again, Nikki was pulling the needle out of his boyfriend's arm gently, as if moving too quickly could harm the drummer despite his unconscious state. Looking at the drummer's slack face had hot, fat tears running down the older man's face for what felt like the hundredth time that night. Pulling Tommy into his arms, feeling the familiar weight that he had held in his embrace for so many nights was almost too much for Nikki. His own trauma that he had endured that night, as well as looking at the pain that he had caused the love of his life made holding tears in impossible. He made no effort to hold back his sobs as he sniffled, and felt concern bubble up when Tommy let out no acknowledgment of his presence other than a soft grunt that could have easily been missed if the bassist hadn't been so hyper aware of everything involving his boyfriend at the moment.

Tommy hated smack, Nikki knew that. He didn't like the way smack made him feel and he didn't like that it took Nikki away from him, and the needle laying a few feet away where Nikki had tossed it and the blood staining Tommy's arm was a horrible reminder that he did this to Tommy.

Nikki knew he should move Tommy off of the filthy ground, get him out of this mess of debris and broken glass, but for the moment he was just going to hold him, and bury his face in his hair to dry the tears off of his cheeks. Inhaling with a small smile at the pleasant smell that wafted from the drummer’s hair, Nikki pushed his face a little deeper into it to try to get more, as if the smell could take away the absolute shitshow that was going on around him.

Tommy had just gotten a new shampoo recently, and Nikki remembered how much Tommy's eyes had lit up when Nikki commented on it, as if he couldn't believe that the bassist had noticed. Which was fair, considering he barely noticed anything other than when his smack supply was getting low these days.

So Nikki sat there, holding his boyfriend and praying- yes praying- that wherever Tommy was in his heroin induced haze he knew that he wasn't alone.

That Nikki was here, he didn't leave him all alone.

That despite Nikki's harsh words and distant attitude lately, he fucking loved him, and he was so, so sorry. As he sat there holding the younger boy, he finally had the chance to survey the destruction around them. He couldn’t picture his loving and kind Tommy possessing enough anger to cause this big of a mess. His eyes widened as he noticed that among the shattered whiskey bottles and- jesus, was that his record collection?- sat the collection of, now broken, awards that Motley had won over the years.

Could Tommy really love Nikki so much that the news of his ‘death’ could cause this much of a reaction?

Reaching down to cup the drummers lax face in his hand Nikki felt his tears return as he realized that his death would have an effect on his sweet boy. This had to end, because while Nikki could live with killing himself, at least this version of himself, he knew there was no part of him in this life or the afterlife that could live with killing Tommy.

As badly as Nikki’s fingers itched to go find whatever smack he had left in the house and shoot it to bury this overwhelming guilt at seeing his boyfriend passed out from a drug he despised in the middle of all this wreckage, instead Nikki was standing, picking up his lover’s lank form in his arms to make his way up the stairs to his bedroom.

Carrying Tommy proved to be harder than anticipated because despite the drummer’s naturally skinny form, Nikki’s own body had gotten dangerously thin these days due to his diet which consisted entirely of drugs.

Nevertheless, Nikki made it up the stairs on sheer willpower alone- he was NOT letting Tommy sleep in that fucking wreckage. Laying Tommy on top of the covers as gently as he could, supporting his boyfriend’s lulling head, Nikki wanted to cry at just how much Tommy looked like he was just sleeping.

So peaceful. But of course he was peaceful. Tommy was in a world where his boyfriend was alive, hadn’t overdosed on heroin, hadn’t selfishly chose drugs over someone he claimed to love every single fucking day.

Nikki lay down beside Tommy, gently rolling Tommy over so he could spoon him from behind, holding him tightly to his chest just like he did every night when he slept.

Nikki let his tears fall, hoping and praying that when Tommy woke up, he would recognize the familiarity of their position, and recognize the arms that held him like this.

Nikki pressed a kiss into Tommy’s hair on the back of his head, trying desperatly to keep his tired eyelids open as he listened to his boyfriend’s breathing, wondering how the fuck he was going to fix this, how he was going to remedy this situation when he didn’t even deserve Tommy in the first place.

——-

When Tommy’s eyes blearily opened hours later, the first thing that registered was- fuck his head hurt. The second thing that registered was the flood of overwhelming emotions and the sting of hot tears when he remembered the events of the previous night. The third thing that registered that he was in Nikki’s bed and someone was behind him, holding on for dear life- but wait- he knew those arms and it couldn't be true-

Turning over in the tight hold the older man had on him, Tommy felt lightheaded as his eyes met the shimmering green ones that he had been chasing in his split second decision to shoot up Nikki’s remaining stash.

Nikki looked horrible, he was covered in a sheen of sweat that Tommy very clearly recognized as the withdrawal sweats, and his eyes were bloodshot from what looked like a combination of exhaustion and tears.

“I’m dead”. Tommy croaked out, because that was the only reasonable explanation. This had to be heaven, but fuck, who let heaven give him such a bad fucking migraine? Or maybe it was hell, and they let him wake up in Nikki’s arms, only to drag him away later. Tommy didn’t think he could survive that though, even in hell.

An appropriate punishment though, for allowing his boyfriend to die thinking Tommy didn’t want him around anymore.

Tommy watched Nikki’s face contort with the most pained expression he had ever seen from the bassist, and his breath caught when Nikki shook his head.

“You’re not dead, baby boy, and neither am I.”

Tommy couldn't speak, so he settled for just staring into Nikki’s eyes. His beautiful green eyes, that were always Tommy’s favorite part of Nikki. They looked so real and so alive, but Tommy was afraid to believe.

“They brought me back baby, the EMT’s brought me back. I’m… I’m so fucking sorry.”

From there it was all fists clenched into T-shirt’s, tears soaking into hair, sobs getting lost into shoulders and hurried kisses pressed against heated skin.

“This won’t happen again baby.. You.. you mean so much more to me than anything, Tommy, anything, and I swear I’m getting off of this shit for you.”

“I didn’t mean it Nik, not a goddamn fucking word-“

“Stop baby, you don't have to explain, I know. It was all me, I was an asshole, I put the thing that was gonna fucking kill me above the thing trying to save me, and I’m so sorry, I swear to fucking god Tommy, never again.”

Tommy pulled his head out of its hiding spot in Nikki’s shoulder, and one look at the bassist’s teary, but determined face let Tommy know that yeah, Nikki meant it. He was so used to Nikki’s lying face by now, the face he gets when he just tells Tommy what he wants to hear, and this isn’t it.

So Tommy thumbed away his boyfriend’s tears, feeling his own slip down his face as he pressed a desperate, longing kiss to Nikki’s lips, smiling as he felt them tremble as they pushed back with just as much desperation.

And just like that, Tommy could breathe again.

[miu15]

Petunia (WCB prologue thing)

He bats his hand away from the buttons."No, no, just hold me tighter Witt." There is no change in pressure. So he pushes himself onto the other with more desperation. "Witt, please" he whines. 

"Shh." Witt hushes onto his lips and continues with a gentle hold on the others hips. Anger boils in Yogi's chest, passion fuels it and he bites Witt on the bottom lip and holds it hostage. Witt cries out as blood drips. Yogi lets go but before witt  can protest his attention is yanked abruptly to meet yogi's. Yogi's grip on witts chin will leave a bruise but that seems to be the least of Witt's problems however.

The fire has reached his bright green eyes. "Youre not paying attention to me." Witt lowers his eyes away from yogi. Yogi refuses to be ignored and yanks his chin again. Witt makes a grunt of annoyance. But meets his gaze straight on. 

Neither makes a sound, its a challenge for the other to make the first move. Unlike his usually self, yogi hesitates and his green eyes burn into witt's blue. Witt gaze is daring, its not as mysterious as he would of wished and it takes only a minute for yogi to figure out what everyone has been spending a week searching for. The traitor.

"You son of a bitch." Yogi growls still holding Witt's chin. Witt makes no sound or movement to escape. " you son of a bitch!" Yogi yells louder. He yells as if the louder he scream, the quicker itll be for the past to change. The green burns brighter but yogi doesnt use the fire on witt. Instead he throws his chin to the side and yells more. "Do you know what you've done!? Do you ever fucking think?" 

"Yogi-"

Yogi picks up a glass bottle and throws it next to Witt. Its not meant to harm him, its simply a warning.

"Shut up! You fucking idiot" he groans and buries his eyes as deep as he can into the palm of his hand. "You fucking screwed me Witt. You fucked me over and you- you- never think!" He takes out his cigerette and lighter but the lighter wont light so he throws it across the room and crumples the cigerette. 

"I dont regret it."

Yogi rounded back to him. "So I have to!? I have to regret for you? I always have to clean up after your shit." He jabs his finger at Witt.

"Nothing will happen to you Yogi, you didnt do shit." 

"Exactly Idiot! I didnt do shit! You made sure of that!" 

"What are you talking about?" Witt wraps his arms across his chest and sinks down the wall onto the floor.

"Im in charge of you and the other idiot. You only thought of yourself!" 

Witt stayed on the floor but he didnt need to stand to for the anger to be intimidating. Witt doesnt get angry. He gets annoyed, he gets fatigued, but he doesnt get angry. Its not explosive like yogis. Its silent and yogi doesnt understand it placement in the first place. 

"Yogi this may have been one of the least selfish thing ive done. Forget our line of work, that! That was evil and made us just as bad the enemy. We watched in safety while he hurt her every day. Damn the consequence I'd do it again, tell him. Make it easier on yourself.  Let amir kill me."

Yogi stopped pacing and lowered to witt slowly. "Kill you? You think, he'll kill you?"  Yogi slowly unbuttoned his shirt and made sure witt focused when he tried to turn his head away. "I would lie about it. Tell a fun story, make everyone jealous." He scoffed. The purple line glinted catching Witt's whole attention. "You left 'to search and be a good blood hound.'" Tenderly he shrugged the shirt off thin lines of bright purple and red ran in chaotic paths across his arms. Around his chest was a set of fresh gauze. "Its not just one," he laughs. "He like her, as confusing as it is." 

"Yogi-" 

Yogi shoots him a glare. " No Witt." And he continues to unwrap. "You want death? He wont give you the pleasure." The red lines grow thicker and more mared. There's purple and black and red and green and blue. But theres so much red. Witt gently pushes away the bright strands of Yogi's long hair. Yogi in turn puts it in his usual ponytail. The signs were all there. The thick jackets, the hair being left down, the clothes on whenever theyd- "dont start feeling guilty now idiot. Some of them arent just your mistakes." There were older scars circular on his sternum, but they werent scars they were burns. But it all went dark black as it got closer to where his heart should be. Over it was a single gauze taped into place. 

His body was marred with lightning and burns and scratches from beastial claws. It was a wonder he moved a gracifully as he could.

"H-how?"

"How, what? Hm? How am I still living? Amir needs me. Not me exactly but my role. And i know too much to easily replace. Who knows maybe youll take it when you know enough. He has friends Witt, he cant afford to kill. So he wont. He needs my eyes my hands my arms my mind and my body. So he makes sure it works. He assures me I'll work at the end of the day and I love him for it. I love my role and I dont try to run from it." Carefully and painfully he removes the gauze. A single glowing purple flower with crystals encrusting it are all embedded where his heart should be. "I cant run from it. There's nothing to run too. Im already dead." Witt reaches out to touch him but once again yogi bats away the hand. He forgets the wraps and puts his shirt back on and gets up. He retrieves his lighter and lights a cigarette on his second try. 

He breaths out the smoke and the worry with it. "I wont say anything. You shouldnt either. Let him keep wandering." Witt nods. "She safe?" 

"I lost her so she is." 

Yogi nods."keep it like that." And he leaves Witt to his thoughts. 

[engagedtobefree]

Phase 7: The Truth

Monday - I get to work about 10 minutes early so I can talk to Greg. I ask him about his baby shower and we talk about it a bit. Then, before I have a chance to take the conversation where I want it to go, he asks me how my weekend was. I go back to my desk after our conversation and I submit to my fate of having to ask Joyce if Scott is married. I decide to do this after I have a conversation with Scott, so that it doesn’t appear as if I’m asking out of the blue. This way if she asks me why I want to know, I can just say something about his behavior, taking it off my shoulders and putting it on his. I start to wonder now if she also noticed Scott’s interest in me, hence the “you look guilty” statement she made toward him on 2 separate occasions as he was talking to me. Since the Super Bowl was last night, I don’t expect Scott to come in, especially because he said he probably wouldn’t if the Eagles won. It’s getting closer to 9 and he always comes in between 8:20 and 8:30, so I decide I’ll just have to wait until tomorrow to execute my plan.

But Scott comes in at 9:30. He’s in his office talking to Steve and Chris all excitedly about yesterday. I decide it’s probably a good idea to listen to their conversations as much as I can, in case Scott mentions his wife. And he does. I don’t hear exactly what he says. All I catch are the words “my wife”, but that’s all I need to hear. I instantly see red. I feel anger. So it’s true. Scott is married. I can safely assume there is no divorce or anything on the horizon. His wife still has their wedding photos up on Facebook. She loves him and as far as she’s concerned, they’re happily married.

I am livid. I want to flip him off. I want to scream. I want to curse him out. For 9 weeks I have been falsely assuming Scott is single and interested in dating me. For even longer than that I had been noticing him looking at me, watching me, and even walking by my desk a few times to look at me. And all of that may have been more frequently than I was noticing. For 8 weeks I had been flirting with him, believing I could have him eventually. And as the weeks have dragged on I have gotten more aggressive in my pursuit, and he reciprocated. And he’s fucking married. 

I feel so wronged. He has assumed I’m stupid. He assumed I would never find out. He assumed he could keep this going. What else has he assumed? I don’t get any opportunity to approach Scott until right before lunch, which is probably a good thing because I calmed down a lot, so much so that I feel sad, disappointed, even a bit numb. I had been texting 2 friends during this time, and I let out a lot of emotion and blow off some steam, and get out so many of the thoughts racing through my mind. I am on the verge of tears at one point.

My opportunity comes as I’m leaving the bathroom. Right when you come out of the women’s room and turn down the hallway, the supply closet is there on the right, and Scott is in there looking around. He turns his head and I know he sees me, but I don’t look at him. I contemplate going back and cornering him in there so he has to face me, but I feel so empty, that I know the way I picture me doing it is not how it would happen. While I have confronted people countless times in my life, I am not naturally confrontational. I have to really work at it. It’s easier when I have emotions alongside my logic driving me to do it, but even then I may still have some nervousness. Right now, in this moment, I have nothing but my logic. I feel completely empty of all feeling. I go over to the printer to get my stuff and go slow, knowing that Scott is probably restocking the teas. I can hear him in the closet looking for them. Then he can’t get the door to catch and lock. Finally, fucking finally, he comes over to the coffee machine. He is elated, happy, smiling, probably partly due to our Super Bowl win yesterday and partly due to being able to interact with me. He says how he’s finally restocking the Jasmine Green Tea and he says something else, but I don’t know what. I comment on his Eagles shirt and he says he’s had it on since last night and laughs. I may say something else, but I don’t know. I look at him, standing there, smiling at me, most definitely happy to see me, and I don’t want to do this. I don’t want to confront him. I enjoy talking to Scott, I love flirting with him, I like the rush of interacting with him randomly throughout each day, I like the warmth his voice and laugh create inside of me, I like looking at his face, I enjoy the attentions he gives me. In this moment, I am second-guessing if I should go with my heart and talk to him as usual, or if I should go with my mind and do what’s right. “You’re married”. It comes out as half-statement, half-question. I am looking at his left hand, where there is never any ring. He has turned and is looking at me. I shift my eyes up toward his face. “Am I?” Scott doesn’t pose this question as if he didn’t hear me, but as if he is asking me if he is married. This throws me off. It takes my brain a few seconds to realize that it came out of his mouth wrong. I almost can’t breathe. “Yeah”, is the only thing I can muster. “Yeah, why?” He fucking asked me why, as if he doesn’t know why. There’s no need to play dumb with me. I shakily say, “Nothing” as I shift my eyes away, pull my lips into a thin line, and nod my head up and down. I wanted to add “You should have said something”, but my legs just carry me back to my desk. I don’t know what to do with myself. I want to say more, I need to say more. He is still at the coffee machine. I grab my cold coffee and walk down the large hall to the microwave, just so I at least am not stuck at my desk listening to him stock the tea. As I’m standing there, I hear someone start to come up the opposite, smaller hallway to the microwave. They pass behind me, I turn and look at the person as they walk away and it’s Scott. He followed me to the microwave. My only assumption as to why is that he was going to say something to me, but he chose not to. His ego must have won. Hell, he’s probably in shock too. Thought he could keep me wrapped around his ring-free finger for longer than this. Maybe he also thought if I did ever find out that I’d want him enough to not care. After I’m done heating my coffee, I start to head back down the large hall and hear someone not too far behind me. I turn my head to look and see it’s Scott. I turn my head back around so quickly that I don’t even get a solid look at him, but I don’t care. He was headed back down the small hallway.

My lunch is shortly after this, and Scott always takes his lunch right when mine is over (technically when Steve comes back from lunch, but my lunch is the same time as Steve’s). I am outside Joyce’s cubicle while I’m waiting till she’s finished on the phone, and my body is at an angle so that I am still facing her and also facing Scott’s office. I see him come out of his office, but he had just started to turn his head away when I shifted my eyes over to him. I didn’t have to turn my head and didn’t want to, which is why I stood at the angle. I didn’t want him to know I could see him if he happened to come out of his office.

I go into the warehouse twice, and neither time does Scott turn and look at me. I keep questioning why. Why did he do this? Was it because he liked the attention? Was it nice to know he’s still got it going for him at his age? Does he not get attention at home, and was just innocently enjoying it? (Highly fucking doubt that one, at least the “innocent” part). Did it really just make him happy to come into work and have a young, pretty girl, who he clearly finds attractive, show interest in him and be happy to see him every day? Did he ever intend to take this further, beyond the workplace, into an affair? I have no answer from Scott, and I probably won’t get one. I doubt I’ll even get an apology. If I have it in me later in the week, and if I’m feeling better, I could quite possibly find an opportunity to corner him, make him uncomfortable. Or should i wait to see if he chooses to approach me about it, which I know is highly unlikely cuz most men dont do things like that? Or should I just keep making my prescense known, like keep popping up as usual, but just not give him attention? There are so many ways I can approach this from here, but it’s way too soon for me to even know what I want to do.

At the end of the day, I always go up to get my lunch bag since I typically have something still in there (usually hummus) that needs to stay refrigerated. As I head up the stairs, one of the bathroom doors open. To my horror, it’s Scott. He doesn’t see me as he heads into the break room/kitchen. I’m not turning back around just because of him, so I keep headed toward my destination. He’s at the coffee machine. This guilty motherfucker, who always makes his end-of-the-day tea at the coffee machine by my desk, came all the way up here to make his tea so that he could avoid me. Joke’s on you, Scottie Boy, cuz we work literally within 20 feet of each other at all times. Can’t fucking avoid me forever, you coward. I don’t look at him. He starts to turn his head but sees it’s me, so he quickly turns it back. “Hey, Dana, what’s up?”. Still his typical greeting, just more quietly and with less enthusiasm than usual. In a soft voice, all I can say is “Hey”. I shouldn’t have said anything, but there is still a part of me that wishes I could continue what I was doing with Scott. After I grab my bag, I keep my eyes looking down as I walk back past him. I don’t want to look at him. Not out of shame, or embarrassment, or because he won, but because I’m so hurt. When I get back to my desk, not only am I shaking on the inside, but also physically. Scott has thought of no one but himself. He probably has no guilt. He never thought of his wife at home, or the woman at work smitten with him. Never thought how this would affect me at all if I found out about his marriage. And I know that he knows he cannot even say this has been casual flirting. This has been getting more and more involved between us as the weeks have passed, and who know how much more it would have developed. Our once-a-day greetings and slight smiles slowly evolved into big smiles, daily conversations, making more eye contact, standing closer and closer, and purposely going out of our way to interact with each other. Even me complimenting him and checking him out several times, which I know at least a few he had to see. And he has purposely left out mentioning his wife.

I leave for the day and his car isn’t started yet, so I’m guessing he will never be leaving on time ever again. I actually take awhile to get situated in my car because I’m trying to stuff mail that has been sitting on my passenger seat for days into my bag, and then I’m trying to get my iPod to play but don’t realize I have the volume shut off and the radio set to Disc instead of Aux. Joyce comes out and I wave to her. I’m still messing with my Ipod and my radio when the door opens again. I know who it is before I look. When I do decide to look, he’s already staring at me, coming slowly down the stairs. He has the coffee straw in his mouth as he does for 90% of the day, his shades are on, he’s got his tea in his hand. There’s something written on his face though, but I can’t place what it is. His mouth is moving in an odd way, despite chewing on the straw, almost like he’s about to say something, even though I wouldn’t hear him through the door. I lift my hand up in a good bye. Again, I know I shouldn’t, but my heart was so set on this man, I just can’t believe that this turned out to be the reality of things. He lifts his hand up back to me. I realize after this interaction that I had a sad, pained look on my face. I didn’t mean to, but yeah, in hindsight I know it was there. And I question myself: should I have waved? I don’t want Scott to think what he’s done is okay, but at the same time I realize that if I want to bring this up again, I need to remain somewhat open toward him. And I can’t help but be open anyway. It’s in my nature. I am vulnerable, and while yeah, it gets me hurt sometimes, I know being open and vulnerable have a lot of positives to them as well. And I just can’t help it. As angry as I have been throughout this whole day, as much as my brain keeps telling me he is a scum bag and complete piece of shit, I have grown quite fond of the man who on a daily basis would give me his greetings, his smile, his radiating face. It was all for me and directed at only me, and he made me feel special, despite any ulterior motives he may have had. It has been years since any guy has truly made me feel that way. And even though Scott wasn’t exactly honest, something about it all was still so genuine, something about him still seems so genuine. It doesn’t mean he’s not guilty or wasn’t doing something completely inappropriate and downright wrong, but I think that maybe Scott really enjoyed giving along with receiving. Maybe he also enjoyed seeing me light up and feel special, and liked knowing he made someone happy just by his presence. Maybe he also really enjoyed talking to me too. I have no doubt he enjoyed being on the receiving end more than the giving end, but I believe that he was also fond of me too. And there was definitely a connection between us. There still is. I felt it earlier at the coffee machine when he came over to me, and I think that along with my affections for him, that connection is what made it so hard for me to confront him. A small (very small) part of me wonders if Scott has felt any confliction or guilt about all of this. I doubt it, but I honestly can’t rule it out. Maybe he did develop some feelings for me and he’s wrestled with the morality of it (or not - he could’ve developed feelings and not wrestled with it at all). Does he love his wife? Is he happily married? Was he hoping for that sweet double-life of being a family man and still having some side action with a beautiful mistress? We interact out in the open for all to see at work. He was in his office all those countless times he turned to smile at me, risking the 2 men he works with noticing that. I thought I was the only one risking something here, but what if Scott was as well? And his face, his face always lighting up when he sees me. You can’t fake that. I may have gotten the truth about his marital status, but this is no less confusing than it was before.

I am writing all of this in real-time. It is Monday night, and I am sitting here with my aching little heart wondering where this is going to go. I know it will take me a bit of time to adjust to no longer flirting with Scott, or greeting him in the mornings, or jumping out of my cubicle to talk to him. It’s gonna hurt, and it’s gonna hurt because it matters. This has meant something to me. I don’t mind in the future being friendly with him if we cross paths. Will I talk to him like before? I don’t know. If i do, I run the risk of still being interested in him. I could get over this, start talking to him, then end up right back where I was before, completely smitten and charmed by him. Or I could get over him and not even care anymore, and go back to how it was way before all this, which was barely seeing him and interacting with him, and being okay with it. My fear is though, that despite how wrong I know this has been, what if the part of me that wants what it wants wins? What if I pick all this back up? I can’t see me doing that, as I really am a nice person, and I have never intentionally hurt anyone in my life, but this feels so abruptly over and left unfinished. That may be due to me not having an answer as to why he did this, or it could be due to something uglier. There is something in me that is thinking about how he wants me, despite being married. Do I carry that disgusting potential to be the other woman, one that is aware of the marriage but doesn’t care? And the answer is probably yes. I know we all get bad thoughts some times, bad urges, bad desires. Being a kind person doesn’t mean they’re not there. It’s not letting those things win that matters most. Scott has very much acted on something and been feeding into and contributing to something he should have put an end to a long time ago. I don’t want to be like that. I know I have made mistakes in my life and done things that are wrong, but what if I do something intentionally wrong? Am I a bad person? Am I a bad person for still wanting him? Am I a bad person if I somehow get wrapped back into this and don’t put an end to it again? Do I really want this man enough to not care about any destruction it could bring? I can be so obsessed with finding true love, and would my mind start to wonder if it’s this man, rationalizing that he’s just in a marriage with the wrong woman? A huge, huge part of me is saying, “Come on, Dana, you’d never do that. You’d never intentionally be with a married man and hurt another woman. And look, you’re aware of it. That’s good!” Then there’s another part of me, a smaller, quieter voice that is whispering, “There’s no harm in some casual flirting still. There’s no harm in letting him know what you want. We’ll just let him decide if it’s to actually be taken further or not.” A young woman fantasy of “He’ll choose me over his wife.” I am disgusted. I am so disgusted and I really hope that the better part of eventually squashes out this longing for him and I come 100% to my senses. 

This is still so sudden though, and I shouldn’t expect my longing for him to just disappear so quickly. I want it to, but I know what I’m like, and I know this is going to be difficult for me and that I’m going to be wrestling with these emotions for some time. I want him, and only time can me make stop wanting him. 

I hate this. I hate this so fucking much. I hate every little fucking thing about it.

[candy-corps]

Of Cats and Bats

Blue belongs to @mygardenofmuses 

Damien stayed on his seat after classes were over, waiting for people to get out until he, Blue and Minion were the only ones left. He felt sorry that Blue would be late for the bus, but he needed his help … and it was for Jess, in the end.

His gaze still on the blackboard, he remained silent until even the teacher left. That one was not thinking much of it that the two kids stayed longer, especially after he noticed Damien still trying to figure out the new formulas worked. It was well-known by now that Blue helped him learning whenever he could. Less work for him.

Just when the teacher was out of hearing distance, too, Damien began to talk. “So … you were right about this bat-thing back then” he started, a little too nervous than to talk on right away. Sure, when someone knew what it was like to be different, it was Blue, but that didn’t make it much easier, still.

Deciding that had to be enough, he lifted his bag on the table and began to pack his things. When they hurried up, Blue may still catch the bus in time.

Blue was packing his things as well. It was comforting to have a friend like Damien, someone his own age who understood his loneliness, yet gave him freedom to keep trying to find his true self, never judging him like others used to do.

Today it had been a weird day for the two of them. Pink Punk had approached them and invited them to their birthday - something strange, given they weren’t so close. But it looked like she cared for them, or at least liked them enough to consider them good guests for her party. He felt excited over this. Birthday parties were good, but BEACH BIRTHDAY PARTIES?! This was promising!

He looked back at his friend, smirking a bit. Thanks to the adult!Damien, he knew he had been right all along, but he didn’t want to spoil the surprise for his young friend. Act surprised would still be a bit of a challenge, though.

“WHOA! Really?” he answered with a happy smile. “Then… are you going to show me more of your bat-like features?”

He remembered seeing the ones of the adult version of his friend. Those were spectacular, but he wanted to see the ones of his young friend, too. Maybe this way he could start to wrok in the special wings for him as well…

“You’ll see at the beach party … ” Damien said. There was not really a way around it. When there was PE, he could still change when the others were gone already, but it would be plain weird when he’d wear a shirt when the others didn’t.

He got up, indeed not noticing that Blue knew already. Wasn’t like he had much eperience with telling people about this. The last one hadn’t been this great so … he was a little relieved, actually.

“Works for me. I can wait. Will you need anything for the party? I’m thinking to buy new swimming trunks. Just to show off a bit…” Of course, there would plenty of girls and he wanted to cause a good impression. Especially to certain green-eyes beauty.

But Jess had mentioned other girls coming to the party as well. And that guy, Tom. He seemed really nice when they met, but… all the rumors about him and Lucy annoyed him more than he’d like to admit. He just hoped that those rumors were just that, rumors, stories without any base…

He shook his head, trying to erase such scary images from his mind, and turned to Damien. “This will be my first beach part ever. Have you ever been to any?”

“Never to a … beach party, to be true. So I’ll need some trunks, too.” He wasn’t exactly swimming before, either. He figured it couldn’t be too diffcult, though. Lots of people swam… so that was nothing he worried about right now. He turned his gaze to Blue , talking in a more serious tone. “Because of the bat thing … um … I won’t hit anybody when there are any comments. It’s Jess’ party, I dont want to spoil it.” That wasn’t how he dealt with those kind of things usually, therefore the warning. He expected Blue to make a fuss, either.

“We can go to buy some. There’s a sports shop not too far away from the school, we can get them there.” Blue answered with a smile. “And most of the people Jess mentioned is kinda nice. Lucy is awesome! Talula is great, too! I don’t know Bernadette, though. Bad tongues say she’s a witch because she seems able to dissapear without leaving any trace, but I don’t know her well enough. I’ve seen that she seems super detached from most people, though.” the kid added, putting on his schoolbag. “And… I know Tom, but not well enough. So I can’t judge. Yet.”

He patted Damien’s shoulder, chuckling. “I’ll be there with you. If anyone has anything to say, Minion and me are in your side, OK? You are not alone, Damien.”

It was really close to admirable how Blue still tried. Damien took a step aside as that one reched out, not wanting to get touched. Walking in a distance now, they reached the lockers eventually. Damien didn’t sleep in the school anymore since Amelia found him here, so he stored some books here he won’t need for the next couple of days.

“Good to know. Well, I don’t have any spare money with me, so I’ll do that later” he said. “Besides, I got plan. Need to see my mum today."

“Oh?” That made Blue smile weakly. Most kids had parents to rely on… He really didn’t have one. At least, not in this world.

But it was nice to hear that Damien could see his mother anytime he wanted. “That’s so good, Damien! I’m really happy for you! You could ask her for money. Maybe not today, but, how about tomorrow, after classes? We could buy our swimming trunks… And maybe use the rest of the money to buy Jess something. If only, just to thank her for inviting us to her party. What do you think?”

Damien’s features tensed. She’d teach him how to steal money, not give him some. He didn’t want to get anything - he’d consider to work to afford things, actually, but he was way too young and had no time to, next to school and training.

“Sounds good to me. She said we shouldn’t buy her something, but … I’d like to give her something anyway. Any ideas?” he asked, closing the locker.

“How about a big bag of candy? That’s cheap, and everyone likes candy.” he suggested.

If they counted with more time, he’d consider building something for her, but Jess’s birthday was around the corner. He knew it as soon as he opened the card, which had a curious strawberry scent.

“Here it says that the party will take place this Sunday… We really don’t have too much money or time to get her anything too expensive.”

“Hmmm … let me worry about that” Damien said, peeking at Blue’s invitation. Did that smell of … strawberry? Seriously?

“Candy, huh … I … actually have a source. We won’t even have to buy some.” He had not the heart to throw all the candy away his father kept giving him. But letting them come to waste didn’t seem right, either.

“Wait - Do girls like bouncy houses?” he asked, seemingly off-topic. They made their way out of the school by now. Soon, they’d have to take different turns. Damien was supposed to meet his mother in downtown, which wasn’t too ar from here, actually, but lan another direction than the one Blue had to take.

“Oh, really? That’s great!” Blue felt a little relieved. Actually he felt worried about buying candy, since he had earned a reputation of candy thief in most candy shops in the city. Most shopkeepers would frown at the sight of him. “Then you bring all the candy. I can get some gift paper and a ribbon and tie it to make it fancy enough for a gift.”

Damien’s question made him blush a lot actually. The image of Lucy in a bouncy house came to his mind. It was all fun and giggles until…

“I… I think they don’t.” he mused, before leaning close to him, whispering on his ear. “Mostly because… in those bouncy houses… if they were wearing skirts that day… It would be far too easy… in an unlucky jump… to see their panties.”

Blue covered his face, his face turning purple for a minute. Stupid testosterone! Now that image wasn’t going to leave his mind for a while. Awkward to the max!

Damien frowned. Stupid girls. “Their fault for wearing skirts then” he found, not quite understanding what made Blue blush right now. He was more disgusted than uneasy by that image actually. He didn’t want to see anyone in their underwears in a public place.

He sighed. He’d have to find another way to get rid of his bouncyhouse, then.

“Candy, it is” he came back to the topic. The sun was blinding him for a moment as they walked beneath some trees, so he raised his hand to shield himself. “I’ll give it to you tomorrow” he promised.

His friend’s comment managed to snap him out of those awkward thoughts and rip a laugh from his lungs. “Hahahaha! Oh man, Damien…” He shook his head. Eventually he’d start to see girls in the same way he did - just not yet. But he didn’t mind waiting. “Why did you ask about bouncy houses? There’s nothing about bouncy houses in the card. And given the situation of Jess’s family, I don’t think they have money enough to rent one…”

Blue blinked at the sudden change of topic. “Oh, sure! That will make things easier. I’ll wrap it and in the party we can say it’s a gift from the two of us…”

“Hey, what about me?” Minion climbed out of Blue’s bag and stat on his shoulder.

“OK, a gift from the three of us.” Blue giggled, giving a playful poke to Minion’s glass bowl.

What … ever was that amusing right now. Damien kept walking, just looking back when the fish spoke up. Three? Well, he guessed she could help with the wrapping … which was quite good, actually. He won’t be too good with wrapping up a gift - another thing he rarely had the opportunity to do.

“I need to go this way” Damien spoke up, pointing at the other side of the street.

“Oh, OK!” Blue felt a bit sad, he really liked walking home with Damien. But he wouldn’t steal his friend’s time, especially if he already had plans with his mother.

“Hope you have fun, Damien. Take care. See you tomorrow!”

He waved one last time, and Minion did it as well before they started to walk to the other side of the street. Now he had to find Lucy and tell her about the party.

“See you then” Damien replied, raising his hand in goodbye. He watched his friend walk on and left the place as well.

So … this was normal. Normal was definitely weird… but he could see himself grow attached to it. It was nice to stay in the same school for more than but a couple of weeks, get to know places, find out about quirks of other people little by little. He was grateful for that opportunity.

How he wished it would stay that way.