#if they turn out good maybe I’ll give them away just pay for the shipping I guess lmfao

[swordmaid]

found a website where u can get custom acrylic keychains done 🙏🙏

[whytheylosttheirminds]

Don't Call Me Kid - Chapter 5 (part two)

(Rafe Cameron x Reader series, 3.8k words)

series summary: You'd had a crush on Rafe Cameron since you were six years old, but he friend zoned you at every turn. Once shy and insecure, you found new confidence and self-love after high school. When your high school friends go on a reunion beach trip, Rafe finally sees what he lost, but he isn't going to give you up without a fight.

tropes: unrequited crush, glow up, she fell first/he fell harder

series content: some angst, eventual fluff, slow burn, tomfoolery and shenanigans, drinking, fem!reader has occasional insecurity and body image issues

⇢ series masterlist

Years later, you’d still wonder if Topper did it all on purpose. 

When you asked him, he’d just wink and say “bet you’d like to know.” 

As your group walked down the dock towards the rental kiosk, Topper pulled out his phone, grinning down at the screen.

“What’s funny?” Carter tried to read over his shoulder.

“Nothing,” he tucked his phone in his pocket quickly, failing to hide the cheeky look in his eyes, zero poker face. “Kelce is coming.”

The guy Carter had haggled with brought your group over to the three jet skis and gave you a demonstration on how to drive them. You weren’t paying very close attention, more focused on the uneven pairing of the five of you and how to ensure you didn’t end up on the same jet ski as Tom. His rudeness this morning was the final nail in the coffin of your crush.

The guy gave Carter three keys, and you met her eyes, knowing she was thinking the same thing. 

Topper looked at Carter hopefully, his big puppy dog eyes watching her with anticipation. You felt for him, the two of you really weren’t all that different. Sure, he’d gotten to hook up with Carter plenty of times, his crush not totally unrequited, but she’d never given him what he really wanted. At the end of the day, you were just two people who were really good at loving people who didn’t love you back. Still, you knew in your heart of hearts that Carter did love him back, even if she wouldn’t admit it. Maybe you would never get your dream, but you could make sure that two people you cared about got theirs, and that might be the only thing that made this all worth it.

You planned it out quick, knowing Carter was seconds from asking you to ride with her so you wouldn’t be with Tom, and also knowing that what she really wanted was an afternoon alone with Topper.

“I told Kelce I’d ride with him,” you blurted out. 

“Did you?” Carter asked skeptically, trying to figure you out.

“Yeah, I think he’s still worried I’m mad at him,” you made up off the top of your head. “Thought I’d throw him a bone.”

Carter watched you the whole time she boarded the back of Topper’s jet ski, telling him to wait up so they didn’t leave you alone. Tom and Sabrina didn’t seem to care about leaving you, speeding off the second they climbed on their jet ski, Sabrina’s over-the-top shrieks echoing through the air.

“That bother you?” Topper asked when he caught you scowling in their direction.

“Actually, I’m thinking they might be made for each other,” you concluded.

“So you’re not, like, into him?” Topper asked hopefully.

“Not anymore. That ship sailed so quick,” you snorted.

“Ah,” he tried to play it cool, “good to know.” 

“Don’t get any fucking ideas,” Carter warned him.

“I didn’t say anything!” He insisted.

“You don’t have to, you have zero poker face,” Carter said. “No Tom does not equal yes Rafe.”

“I’m just saying it’s good to know. Am I not allowed to know things?” 

You rolled your eyes at their bickering, less than surprised they were having this conversation right in front of you.

“Y’know, you guys can just take off, I’ll be fine waiting for Kelce,” you offered, desperate to move this conversation about your love life out to sea and away from you.

“Right, Kelce,” Topper nodded. “Kelce is coming.”

“Why are you being so weird?!” Carter squinted at him.

“I’m not! I just wanna go!” Topper revved the engine of the jet ski.

Carter looked at you one more time, checking that you were okay with this.

“Have fun!” You said to reassure her.

That’s all Topper needed to hear, he hit the throttle and pulled away from the dock as fast as he could. Carter’s laughter filled the air, she grabbed him tight and tucked her chin in the crook of his shoulder as he drove. She was happy, so you were happy. Your whole life, that’s really all it took, and you knew she felt the same way about you.

With that lovely thought, you climbed on the jet ski so you’d be ready to go as soon as Kelce arrived. 

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Rafe held the keys a little too tight, Kelce struggling to pry them from his hands.

“You gotta take it easy on the clutch, she’s sensitive.”

“I know how to drive, man,” Kelce wriggled the keys from his grip as he climbed into the driver’s seat of Rafe’s truck.

Rafe stalled by the door for a minute, his feet suddenly feeling very heavy. He looked around the marina, scanning for the group. His heart skipped a beat when he found only you, bobbing in the water on your jet ski all alone.

He’d texted Topper a head’s up that he was coming and asked him to let you know. He didn’t want you to think he was in on Topper’s dumbass scheme to get you two together. If he was gonna do this he was gonna do it right, not try to trick you into it.

Now you were waiting for him, looking so gorgeous with your legs on either side of the seat and your hair blowing gently in the wind. 

Usually, he didn’t call girls beautiful, typically opting for hot, or sometimes pretty if he was drunk. But the only word for you right now, and always, was beautiful.

“You gonna let me leave, man?” Kelce asked, gesturing to Rafe’s hands, still clutching the handle of the door.

“Yeah, sorry,” Rafe pulled away, wiping his hand against his board shorts when he realized it was clammy, the sight of you making him nervous in a way he had never been before.

“What’s got you so worried? Are you scared of her or something?” Kelce mocked him.

Rafe was surprised that Kelce had actually caught on to who he was looking at, giving him an annoyed eye roll.

“I’m not scared of her,” he defended himself.

“Don’t even worry about it man, I bet she’s still wrapped around your finger.”

Rafe shot Kelce a steely warning look he’d given him a thousand times.

“I’m just saying, you don’t need to worry,” Kelce explained. “You’re the man.”

Kelce was an idiot, and he spent a good ninety percent of their friendship pissing Rafe off, but he always tried to hype Rafe up. Usually he was annoyed by it, but right now, he actually needed it.

You used to talk about him that way, too. Oh, the money he would pay for you to see him in a good light again. He’d swim across this entire bay just to hear one kind word about him coming from your lips. 

“Nah, I’m really not,” he shook his head slightly, looking back toward you. “But I think with her I could be.”

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The audacity, the fucking nerve of him to come strolling down the dock looking that good. The sun actually broke through the crowds at his arrival, like he’d bribed the gods. He strolled towards you so casually, his grin easy, like he didn’t know he was the most attractive man you’d ever seen in real life. It pissed you off.

“What are you doing here?” You snapped at him when he reached you.

His grin faltered, like he was the one surprised to see you.

“Didn’t Topper tell you I was coming?” He asked.

“No, of course he didn’t,” you said, finally understanding the reason for Topper’s strangeness earlier.

“I asked him to,” Rafe swore. “I didn’t want to make you think I was trying to-”

“I think I’m just gonna go alone,” you cut him off, turning the key in the engine of the jet ski, desperate to put an ocean between you and him before he said another considerate thing that he’d just undo later. “You can rent your own.”

“No can do,” said the owner, arriving to hand Rafe a lifejacket. “This is our last one. You better take your boyfriend with you, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at the situation and the misogynistic comment. 

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you mumbled. 

Rafe felt the correction was unnecessary, but you didn’t seem to be in the mood for constructive feedback at the moment.

“Is it cool if I, uh, can I come with you?” He wasn’t walking back down this dock without trying.

“Fine,” you agreed reluctantly. “But I’m driving.”

“Good with me,” he climbed on quickly before you could change your mind.

With a kick that sent you both lurching forward, the jet ski roared as you tightened your hand on the throttle. Instinctually, Rafe’s hands landed on your side, holding you both in place. You only had a second to feel the pads of his fingers clinging to the soft skin of your waist before he pulled them away.

“Shit, sorry,” he said.

The guy on the dock leaned forward to push the jet ski from the dock, redirecting you out toward the bay.

“No, actually you should hold on,” he instructed. “These babies go fast and it’s a little choppy out there today. Take it real easy out of the marina and then you can kick it up when you’re in open water.”

You could feel Rafe’s hands twitch with hesitancy before they rested on your sides again, so lightly you wondered if he was actually touching you at all.

With a push, you drifted out to sea, slowly picking up speed with the turn of the throttle.

“Do you want me to let go?” He asked, leaning in so you could hear him over the roar of the motor.

Somehow, you thought two completely conflicting thoughts at the exact same time:

Yes, now.

and

No, never.

You settled on, “whatever.”

Rafe started to let go, but the jet ski hit the wake of a nearby boat, and you both nearly flew off the seat. His grip tightened protectively, practically pinning your body down. With his strong hands on you so firmly, it felt like you could hit a tidal wave and he’d still have you in his grasp. You needed more of whatever that was.

Your laughter filled the salty air as you purposefully drove you and Rafe over the choppiest patches of the water, hair whipping behind you into his face, and he didn’t even care. He watched you in the side view mirror on the front of the jet ski, memorizing every inch of your smile like he’d never see it again.

“Jesus, are you trying to kill us?” He teased, yelling over the woosh of the wind.

“It’d be a fun way to go!” You yelled back, meeting his eyes in the mirror.

Rafe’s hands still on your waist, you felt him lean in slightly. Even with two lifejackets between you, the proximity of your bodies was electrifying. You could feel his strong thighs on either side of your hips, closing you in everytime you hit a bump, securing you in place. You wondered if he was doing it on purpose or if it was just his instinct, you didn’t know which was hotter.

The water rushed behind you, a foamy wake marking your path as you continued driving as fast as you could. The others must’ve gone a different way out of the marina, because they were nowhere in sight. The sky was darkening slightly, the shift in weather causing most boats to drive the opposite way, back to the docks. But you just kept going, and Rafe didn’t tell you to turn around, both drunk on the adrenaline of the speed and the feeling of each other’s skin.

After a particularly jostling bump, the engine sputtered slightly.

“Fuck, what was that?” You puzzled, turning the throttle harder but gaining no speed.

“Here, you gotta twist it like this,” Rafe’s arms wrapped around you, his hands covering yours as he guided you to turn the throttle in the exact way you just were.

“That’s exactly what I was doing,” you bickered. “It’s not working.”

“Maybe I should drive?”

“It’s not my driving, something’s wrong with the jet ski,” you argued, swatting his hands away. 

“Can you just let me try?” He argued back.

“No, you’re making it worse!” 

The engine continued to sputter until it cut completely, causing both your bodies to lunge forward as it came to an abrupt halt.

“Rafe what did you do?” You accused him.

“What did I do? You wouldn’t even let me touch it!” He snapped.

You turned the key in the ignition over and over. The jet ski growled a few times but never started back up. Eventually, you gave up with a frustrated huff.

“I think we’re out of gas,” you conceded.

“Well, did you ask the guy if it was filled before you left?” Rafe questioned.

“Oh, so now this is my fault?” You craned your neck to see him, anger in your eyes.

“No, that’s not-”

“I’m so tired of this, Rafe.”

“We’ve only been out here for like a minute.”

“No, not this,” you motioned toward the water, “this,” you motioned between you and him.

“Oh. Me?” He tried and failed to hide his hurt feelings.

“Not you, just, all this back and forth. One second we’re having a good time and the next you’re pulling away or snapping at me. I have fucking whiplash.”

“Are you sure it’s not just from the jet ski?” He attempted a joke, it only half worked.

“How are we gonna get back?” You redirected the conversation before he could see you were smirking.

“A boat will come by,” he said confidently. “We’ll be fine.”

No boats came by in the following minute, or the following five. You sat in tense silence, your previous words still hanging between you. Your head hurt from the wind and trying to figure this man out.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbled, almost inaudible. “I know I’m…difficult.”

You turned your neck, not quite far enough to see him, but enough to let him know you were listening, that he should go on.

“I don’t know how to act around you,” he admitted. “One second I feel like I’ve fucked it up so bad that there’s not even a point in trying to fix it and the next…”

This time, you do turn, twisting your torso so you could look him intently in the eyes, imploring him to say something right for once, begging him not to let you fall off this cliff alone again.

“…you look at me like that,” he almost whispered. “And then I think fuck it, I’d try forever if you let me.”

For the first time ever, he was with you on the way down, finally jumping together.

“Can I?” He asked, voice low.

“Can you what?” you blinked at him slowly, the moment so surreal you worried it wasn’t happening, that you’d wake up in Carter’s bed, all of this day just one long fever dream.

“Fix things…with you?”

“I don’t know.”

It was the most honest answer you could give him.

“Can I try?” His voice broke slightly when he said it, and you could feel the vulnerability leaking through the cracks.

“Yeah,” you gave in.

“I miss you,” he breathed, and your heart felt heavy with longing and resentment at the same time.

“I don’t think you ever really knew me, Rafe,” you said, turning to face forward again, sad eyes scanning the horizon. “You never paid close enough attention.”

He thought over your words, and you could feel that there was something brewing in his mind, a decision he was making. When he finally spoke again, it wasn’t the words you expected.

“What’s your favorite color?”

You couldn’t help the grin that spread across your face as you said, “huh?”

“Just tell me,” he smiled back, even though you weren’t looking, you could hear it in his voice.

You answered him, and he followed that question up with another, and another, and they kept rolling off his tongue and you kept answering, until the strangeness of it faded and the two of you were just talking.

For over an hour, you drifted, leaning forward on the handlebars with your back to him as Rafe asked you questions and listened intently to your long, detailed answers. You were hesitant, just at first. No one had ever let you talk this long without interrupting you. No one had ever wanted so badly to hear what you had to say. He nodded along to everything, responding with thoughtful mhms and carefully worded follow up questions.

After a while, you forgot about the surrealness of it all, where you were, who you were with. It was just you and your old friend, sharing your lives with each other. 

I could do this for a long time, you thought, like maybe forever.

Everytime you thought he must be bored by now, he just kept asking, hanging on every word like he was collecting them for some secret project.

“What do you want to do after you graduate?” and “Who’s your closest friend?” and “Are you still into that one band?” and eventually, when he was running low on ideas, “what’s the last movie you saw?”

You laughed. 

“What?” He asked with a timidness that squeezed your heart.

“The last movie I saw was the last movie you saw,” you reminded him.

“Oh, right,” he chuckled, but there was an edge to it.

“It’s a good movie, though,” you leaned back toward him a little, trying to pull him from whatever thoughts were causing his spirit to fall. “My favorite.”

He nodded, “Tom did a nice job putting together that little shindig.”

“I guess so,” you said, not sure how to proceed.

“You know he plays football for U of F?” He said. “Or did I guess, before he graduated.”

“No, I didn’t.”

“Yeah, he was All American,” he nodded. You’d give all the money you had for one glimpse of what was going on in his head.

“He’s an impressive guy,” he admitted. “I can see why you’d end up in his room.”

“Rafe, oh my god,” you huffed, standing suddenly. Your body rose above him, his eyes tracking every movement. You swung your leg over the seat, flipping around so you were facing him, sitting back down so you could look him in the eyes when you said, “I didn’t sleep in Tom’s room.”

“Oh.”

It was all he could muster up, his throat going dry from both the embarrassment he felt for being wrong and the sudden proximity of your bodies. He willed himself not to let his eyes travel down to the way your lifejacket was pushing your chest together, or the soft skin of your bare thighs, now spread open in front of him as you straddled the seat. He kept his eyes on yours, the most respectful option, though it didn’t help his speechlessness. The uninterrupted contact with your beautiful irises nearly put him over the edge. He almost hoped no boats would come by after all so he could look into your eyes for hours.

“Is that why you got up and left last night?” You questioned, not missing the way his eyes were trained intensely on yours.

“The floor was uncomfortable,” he mumbled.

“The floor,” you nodded, “the floor was uncomfortable. Got it.”

“You're mad at me again,” he surmised.

“When was I ever not mad at you?” 

“I dunno,” he shrugged sarcastically, “somewhere between the movie and your panties hitting the floor.”

You wanted to slap him. And kiss him. He could tell, teasing you with a sideways smirk. You tried to channel the newfound confidence you’d had last night, addicted to the taste of power.

You leaned forward, hands on the leather seat between you, looking up at him with hooded eyes.

“Did you like that?” 

“You know I did.” 

He responded so fast and his voice was so low you couldn’t tell if he was pissed off or turned on. Either way, he wasn’t fucking around anymore.

“Then why didn’t you stay?” 

It felt like that one question held so many questions, and based on the look on his face, you knew he could hear it too. You weren’t just asking about last night, you weren’t just asking why he went to sleep on the couch. You were asking about years of him coming up short, why he’d failed you so many times, why he never, ever seemed to pick you.

“I didn’t know you wanted me to.”

As he said it, the wind kicked up, and the jet ski began to rock even harder as waves rose and fell beneath you. One particularly choppy wave had you tilting a little too far off the seat, and Rafe’s hands landed on your waist again. This time, there was nothing hesitant about it. When you didn’t push him away, his thumb brushed an experimental circle into your skin.

“Do you want me to let go?”

In lieu of answering, your hands came to rest over his. He assumed you were gonna pull them off of you, and for a moment you thought you might too, but then his words echoed in your mind: he didn’t know you wanted him to.

You could do this. You could lean into it and just let it happen. You were supposed to fight it, make him grovel more, make him pay you back for the years you’d waited. It’s what everyone expected. You were only a few hundred yards off shore, but the rest of the world felt lightyears away, and out here, there was nothing stopping you letting him touch you, kiss you, have you. You could just let it happen, and no one would have to know.

But before you could decide if you wanted to, a deep rumble of thunder broke out across the sky.

“Shit,” you jumped. 

“We gotta get out of here,” Rafe looked up at the darkening sky nervously.

“But how?” 

“How well can you swim?”

That’s how Rafe ended up in the water, gripping the back of the jet ski as the waves rocked it harshly, water splashing up and landing on your feet. You tightened your lifejacket, feeling apprehensive about the whole thing.

“I can just push us if you want to stay on,” Rafe offered.

“No, it’ll go faster if it’s both of us.”

You stepped to the edge, hesitating, wanting to rip the bandaid and just jump in but not wanting to jump too far off and get separated. Your indecision cost you, your foot slipped and you dropped into the water, your leg scraping against the edge of the jet ski as you fell. 

Blinded by pain, you reached for Rafe as your head slipped under the surface, but your hands came up empty.

(Chapter 6: part one)

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a/n: please note, the taglist for this series is currently closed. For updates, follow @whytheylosttheirminds-works and turn on notifs 💕

[resvarie]

Do you have some Ami's voice lines?

this took so long… i wrote this before 2.6 before rappa voice lines were released so bear with me! they’re all below the cut 😎

First Meeting:

You can call me Amihan. I'm just a lone drifter amongst the stars, no need to pay me any mind. Unless you need parts, of course. Don't ask me where I source them though, haha…

Greetings:

Heya! Wonder what sort of treasures we’ll dig up today?

Parting:

Fair winds, my friend! I’m sure we’ll find our way back to each other soon enough.

About Self: Captain

I wouldn’t call myself a captain, but I am the only member of the S.S. Nova, so everything falls to me. Navigation, repairs, cleaning, keeping stock… Solo ship life keeps you humble.

About Self: Mechanical Peg Leg

My leg? I carved the wooden bit myself. I lost it in a freak accident when I was wrestling a shark on my home planet— or maybe it was when I fought against that brute from the Annihilation gang.. or was it when I was doing repairs on my ship and that piece of metal fell— Ah! I’m getting carried away here, aren’t I? I’ll tell you another time!

Chat: Business

If you’re ever in need of some scrap metal or ahem, IPC approved goods, just message me. I have dealings in the trade– and you won’t have to pay the abhorrent prices they put up on the market.

Chat: Principles

You gotta give to take, everything has balance in this universe. Just so happens that I like giving miscreants a good flogging, and I like taking their belongings as my payment, and sharing that with people who really need it.

Hobbies

I like making these little carvings in my spare time… This one’s a horse, this one’s a dog. Um, this one’s supposed to be a shark. I’m not used to this kind of wood, so it’s hard for me to get the shape right. N-No, it’s not an excuse!

Annoyances

This might sound odd coming from me, but I get the worst motion sickness when someone else is at the wheel. No offense to Pom-Pom.

Something to Share

Look, I don’t believe in luck. If you want something you can’t just dawdle, waiting for something to happen. You need to take action. That’s all we can do in this universe.

Knowledge

Lushaka is a place filled with flooded ruins and seas so blue it’s hard to see where the water ends and the sky begins. The scholars there have tried to tell me about the ruins, but honestly, I’m more interested in the sunken treasures that are waiting to be found…

About Boothill

He’s a reckless one, isn’t he? We galaxy rangers tend to work alone, but you wouldn’t believe the amount of times he’s dragged me into the fray, even if it is just the tail end of whatever mess he’s gotten himself into. Not like I don’t enjoy it though, heh.

About Boothill 2

…I have a lot of respect for Boothill. I envy him sometimes, but deep down, I know I could never do what he could. To have everything taken like that… it’s… *sigh*

About Rappa

It might be a little hard to keep up with her way of… communicating, but I promise you, she’s got a good head on her shoulders. I trust her judgement. She reminds me of my little sister…

About Rappa 2

The Cosmic Ninjutsu Inscriptions? Rappa tries to teach me, but it just goes in through one ear and out the other for me. I’m not too good with words and remembering things like that, but I’m happy to indulge her.

About Aventurine

Ugh, if I have to hear him speak about luck again, I might just send myself overboard. Is it really luck if he’s putting in that much effort to scheme and calculate the outcome?

About Sampo

Sounds awfully like this guy who keeps undercutting me online– Once, I even tried to buy from him just to see if he was legit. Turns out he’s all talk. He even pretended to be a bot when I confronted him… No integrity!

About Himeko

I met Himeko and the Astral Express once upon a time, she offered me an incredibly bitter cup of coffee whilst talking my ear off about fixing the Express. I could only understand a quarter of what she was saying… but wow, she’s amazing to do all of that by herself.

Eidolon Activation

Dead men tell no tales.

Character Ascension

There she blows!

Max Level Reached

Time to take this seriously.

Trace Activation

All hands on deck!

Added to Team With Boothill

Keep up, cowboy!

Added to Team with Rappa

Er, how does it go again.. As the Cosmic Ninjutsu Inscriptions read: “Let’s kick some serious butt!”

Added to Team with Trailblazer

Up for some treasure hunting after this? Saw some untouched trash cans on my way here.

EXTRA:

rappa and boothills voicelines for ami

About Captain Yukaze

The Captain's attempts at learning the Cosmic Ninjutsu Inscriptions are commendable, but it seems she has a long way to go if she wishes to reach an acceptable level of ninjutsu. I worry for her…

About Ami

Ami’s saved my behind more than a couple of times— I owe her, but uh, I’m not too sure on how to really pay her back, plus she always denies whatever I throw at her, insisting she doesn’t need it. She’s not good with her drink, so a good malt’s out the window and she’s pretty set in her ways with her weapons so I can’t get her something new… I’m at my wits end here…

[sitp-recs]

heyo!! been loving the super specific rec lists youve been making lately :)

do you have favorite fics that include riding! as in. riding cock. bonus points if there’s good dirty talk about it. don’t care who’s on who as long as it is HOT! but obv i love drarry most. hope this is fun!

An ask after my own heart 🥹 thank you for the delicious request anon, here are some fics with memorable riding scenes imho. This reminded me of my fave Starker PWP but that’s neither here nor there so I’ll keep this short & Drarry. I hope you enjoy! 🔥

Move by @shealwaysreads (829 words)

“Come on, fuck yourself on it. I won’t make it move until you do.”

You Either Fuck or You Get Fucked by @fw00shy (2k)

"That's not how fucking works. Fucking's…" Draco waved a hand in the air. "You either fuck or you get fucked." "Sure," Harry said. He took out a Sickle. "Toss for it?"

in charge by @bonesliketambourines (2.4k)

Draco's bossy. Turns out that extends to the bedroom, too. Harry likes it—a lot.

Mens Rea by @lqtraintracks (E, 3k)

Mens Rea: the mental element of a person's intention to commit a crime; or knowledge that one's action or lack of action would cause a crime to be committed. “Draco Malfoy, how do you plead?” I’m super fucking guilty.

Like Gold by @the-sinking-ship (4k)

Draco runs away from home on the back of his boyfriend’s motorbike.

Catch the Snitch (No, Catch My Heart) by prolix (4.5k)

Draco secretly loved when Harry lost a match.

A Delicate Arrangement by mindabbles (E, 6k)

Harry's learned over time that a delicate touch is sometimes superior to a harsh grip. If he can remember that with Draco, he might solve the case, protect a dozen children, and he may, he may just get what he wants most.

Sexplanations (Of the Horrible Sort) by @bixgirl1 (7k)

Harry's willing to put up with a certain amount of injury, as long as he and Malfoy can keep doing... whatever it is they're doing. Maybe. Mostly. Especially if there might be more to it than sex.

Team Building for Dummies by InnerLilith (E, 7k)

Tensions run high when Harry and Draco are both drafted (as starting Seeker and substitute, respectively) for the English national team ahead of the 2002 World Cup. An impulsive bet on the outcome of a practice game resolves the tension in ways Harry wasn’t expecting.

The Page Eleven Wars by fireflavored (E, 8.5k)

In a gossip-hungry post-war Wizarding World, Rita Skeeter has a wildly successful column in the Daily Prophet known as Page Eleven. Naturally, her favourite targets are the poster boys of the two sides of the war: Draco Malfoy and Harry Potter. Bored and annoyed, the two take up tabloid baiting for sport and pleasure.

like a scratch on the roof of your mouth by eleadore (E, 9k)

Two weeks into the new year, Draco Malfoy saves Ron's life in a spectacular fashion.

It's the Love of the Chase (That Created the Ride) by @lqtraintracks (14k)

Draco and Harry are new Auror partners. It's a bit dull. Until they finally see some spell action and things get a lot more interesting (in Draco's pants).

An Act of Kindness for One Harry Potter by a Sympathetic Draco Malfoy by 0idontknow0 (15k)

As Draco leaned on the wall to wait for them to get dressed, he could not help feeling like he had done a very kind thing by disrupting them. Someone should give Potter a better rogering than that sorry sod had. The man had saved the bloody world—okay, mostly Europe—the least someone could do was give him a proper shag.

you look so fine by michi_thekiller (E, 16k)

In which Draco is a Veela and Harry is his mate. Dark!Humor or Crack!Horror, you decide.

Buy A Heart by xErised (E, 17k)

Draco's cock hardens as he looks at the invitation to the charity auction; his golden ticket to one wild night of desperate sex with Potter to get rid of this inexplicable obsession. His heart whispers that one night will never be enough, but Draco is beyond caring. All he knows is that he will pay any price to have Potter over and over again.

White as Snow by @bixgirl1 (19k)

After a quick escape from danger, Harry and Draco find themselves trapped in a blizzard, a small cabin their only refuge from the storm. It's the perfect place to recover and regroup — and to have a long-overdue conversation or two.

Five Weddings and a Potions Accident by lauren3210 (20k)

In which Harry thinks he’s a playboy, everyone else knows better, and Hermione will kill Seamus if Ron tries to collect on that bet.

Waking Up Slow by @sweet-s0rr0w and @ihopeyoubothstaysafefromharm (22k)

'Twas the night before Christmas, although it’s July / Draco’s a shopkeeper, no-one knows why / There’s hiking and witch caves, freak snowfalls and more / Bad Christmas jumpers, nosy neighbours galore / Narcissa’s here too, but… something’s amiss / And what’s in those chocolates that’s making them kiss?

Touch Me Fall by @lqtraintracks (23k)

Malfoy was such a ponce. And he was a complete snob. And he was so fucking fit Harry wanted to jump him where he sat. It would be too easy to forget his objective tonight: to really, really, really get Malfoy out of his system.

In Your Arms, Rests My World by @l0vegl0wsinthedark (24k)

Harry presses his mouth to Malfoy's forehead; he wants to tell him that he’ll never leave, that he wouldn’t dream of it. “You make me feel safe, Potter” Malfoy whispers. “You keep me safe.”

Embers by @shiftylinguini (41k)

Werewolf Alphas aren't meant to be alone, or to suppress their ruts indefinitely like Draco has been since he was bitten eight years ago. He needs company, companionship, to knot ― he needs an Omega Heat Companion. At least, that’s what the Healers say, and even Draco can admit contacting the person they’ve referred him to might be nice.

[wrencatte]

mini-fic 5!! (ish) Post-Survivor. Rambler Crew + Mantis Crew + Cal's ponchos. Omniscient POV. 1k words Reminder! I post these on my Ao3 as well (a day or so later), including an alt version of mini fic 3 that's Ao3 exclusive!

“That is not a good look.”

Cal frowns and looks down at his new poncho, stretching it out from the bottom to put it on full display. “What’s wrong with it?”

“It clashes with your hair,” Merrin says.

“Everything clashes with my hair.

“Well, that is worse.”

“It smells,” Greez complains. “Where did you find that thing, the garbage?!”

Cal grins. “Actually – .”

“Please no.”

“I found it in an oggdo abode.”

“And you put it on?” Greez demands in horror, his voice higher and squeakier than Cal’s ever heard it get before.

Cal stares at him for a long, long moment before he lets out a sharp giggle, and then that giggle turns into a full-on cackle. He falls against the bar top for support. The present cantina patrons watch in amusement and fondness as their resident Jedi turns red faced at the force of his laughter. They don’t get to hear him laugh very often, and the smell of his ‘new’ poncho is nearly worth it.

Greez isn’t done: “Why the hell is there even an oggdo on this planet? I thought we left that sithspawn on Bogano!”

“Maybe it followed you just as the boglings did,” Merrin suggests, patting Cal on the back as he wheezes. “Perhaps you missed it on the ship, it seems quite miss-able.” That, for some reason, just makes Cal start back up again, covering his face as his ears turn bright red. It’s a borderline hysterical laugh, but everyone very carefully avoids making note of that.

Greez points at her. “You, be quiet. And you.” He marches up to Cal and starts tugging on his ‘new’ poncho, but all he succeeds in is yanking the Jedi around while he smacks at the latero’s hands. “Take it off! I can’t have you stinkin’ up my saloon!”

“Hey! Hey! C’mon, it’s not that bad!”

“No, it is.”

“It really is, Cal.”

“Sorry, Red, but that thing smells worse than nekko crap.”

Cal turns to his gathered friends with betrayed tooka eyes. It really only works on Zygg, who immediately looks away, hiding her face with a hand so she’s not swayed by them. Mosey covers her nose for emphasis even though she’s smelled way worse on her own adventuring. She’s even said so and Cal swears a bilemaw smells worse than the oggdo did. Cal covers his heart in mock betrayal before all the pointed looks and disgusted expressions makes him reluctantly give in and pull off the pink poncho. He drops it into Greez’s waiting hands. He knows when he’s been outnumbered despite what some people would think.

“Good,” Greez says, holding it as far away from himself as possible. Which isn’t very far, but Cal counts that as pay back for making him take it off in the first place. “I’ll just…run this a couple hundred times in the washer and give it back – .”

“Tomorrow?” Cal asks hopefully where he’s started to rummage around in the bag he’s been carrying around lately. Says it’s a better place to put all the seed pods and priorite he’s been finding around Koboh. Merrin joked once that it was the perfect size to fit a fully grown bogling and he really just wanted to show it the scenery. Cal hadn’t denied it.

“Never?” Merrin suggests then laughs airily as she dodges one of the aforementioned seed pods Cal throws at her good-naturedly. BD-1 beeps his protest at the seed pod being treated like that, earning an apology from a suitably chastised Cal. “I am just saying, you’ve outgrown the ponchos, Cal. This style you’ve cultivated over the years is much better.”

“But they’re comfortable,” Cal complains, still rummaging.

…The bag isn’t that deep.

Mosey eyes him suspiciously even as she says, “I’ve got a couple’a ponchos you can have, Red. They were my pa’s, but I doubt he’d mind if you took ‘em off my hands. They’re good for the mountain trails since it gets cold up there. And they’ve been stored up all nice and clean.”

Cal flashes her a smile. “Thanks, Mosey, but no thanks. I’m all stocked up.” Everyone watches in horror as he pulls out another poncho. It’s not nearly as garish as the pink one, but it’s still ratty and smelly and Cal pulls it over his head with a bright, beaming grin. “See? Problem solved.”

“Problem not solved!” Greez shrieks, flinging the pink one away. “You brat! Are you kidding me right now?!”

“I have four more!” Cal declares proudly.

“No,” Merrin whispers, aghast.

Cal nods, his smile getting smug now. “Yes. A crate of them just sitting there. It looked like someone tried to set up camp and the oggdo took offense to it. You can take one, but you can’t take them all!”

“Merrin,” Greez says, voice low and serious. Cal looks at him, eyebrow raised in a challenge. The latero puts one set of hands on his hips and points at Cal. “Get him.”

Green magick flares but Cal is already running out the main door, cackling loudly as Merrin gives chase. The rest of them are left behind to stare at Cal’s bag still sitting on the ground.

“Do you really think he has four more?” Moran asks, clutching his drink to his chest. He’s looking a little pale.

“We could throw out the whole thing?” Ashe suggests. “He can collect more seeds later.”

“Doma would kill us for the priorite.”

“Kark, she would.”

Before any of them can make another suggestion, a little body dashes through, scoops the bag up to her chest and pauses, giving them all a good moment to really take in the sight of Kata looking at them all wide-eyed and innocent… wearing a smaller and cleaner poncho in her favorite shade of purple. BD jumps onto her back with a happy beep, and she grins brightly at them before she then – runs away, giggling.

Greez blinks once, twice, and then swears loudly.

“I knew it! I knew they were working together! Those, those brats!”

[klaprisun]

One Sunny Day

(Stardew Valley) (Haley x Female Farmer)

Chapter 9

For the rest of the afternoon, I went out fishing at the beach. I got used to being in the rain, so I decided to make some use out of the day and do something useful. Plus, I spent the rest of my cash on a hat from a mouse so I need to make more. I hear the fish bite well in Pelican Town, and a man named Willy will pay good money for what I catch. That or I could ship them out by putting them in the shipping box by my house.

By the time I had my fill of fishing, it was too late to bring them to Willy, so I decided to just bring the bucket home and ship them off.

I was feeling exhausted once again by the time I made it home. I really need to build my stamina on this farm if I get worn out by a little fishing. Or maybe I should bring a snack next time?

Later that night, while I tried to fall asleep, I couldn’t stop the overwhelming amount of thoughts going through my head.

Why did she kick me out all of a sudden? What did I do to upset her?

I couldn’t stop thinking about Haley. She has been a weird one since I moved here, but Elliot says she isn’t usually like this? 

With each toss and turn in the night, I just couldn’t fall asleep. As tired as I was, my body just wouldn’t let me pass out. I decide to get out of bed and rummage around in the snacks I bought from Pierre’s. I ended up putting the bags on the floor after all because I never did get anything to put them in.

I slump down to the floor and lean against the wall in sorrow while slowly chewing my bite of plain bread. 

I hadn’t even noticed, but I managed to finally get to sleep after finishing half a loaf of bread. I had startled myself with waking up on the floor against the wall because that’s not something I normally do.

Looking across the house and out the window, it is a beautiful sunny day. A perfect day to grab those overalls and water my crops. Tossing on some work clothes, I ran outside with the watering can, eager to get the day started.

The flag on my mailbox stands high and mighty this morning, signaling I have received more mail. Reaching in, I pull out the letter that was stuffed in it.

Tomorrow we’re holding the Egg Festival in town square.

You should arrive between 9am and 2pm if you’d like to attend. You wouldn’t want to miss the annual egg hunt!

-Mayor Lewis

“That will be interesting. Hopefully I don’t sleep in.” I fold the letter up and toss it in my pocket. I also notice there is an envelope of cash sitting in the mailbox as well. It was my payment for the bunch of fish I put in last night. “I’ll make sure to put that away later,” I made a mental note.

Now it’s time to water those crops. Already, I notice they are sprouting out of the soil. I must’ve done something right then if they’ve gotten this far.

5 cans of water later, the crops are all watered and refreshed. I had also tossed my overalls back in my house too before it decides to rain again. 

Fishing sounds like a great idea again to pass the time, so I walk my way back to the beach, but when I arrive, Haley is standing alone in the sand. She seems to be crying.

“Hey Haley. What’s wrong?” I inquire as I approach her.

“I lost my grandmother’s bracelet she gave me. I had it here with me on the beach, and now it’s gone,” She breaks out into sobs as she previously was before I showed up.

“I’m really sorry…” I try to console her.

She sighs, “Maybe it'll wash up on another shore. I can't bear to think of it at the bottom of the ocean."

Before she can say anything else, I take off strolling across the beach. Haley stares after me, remaining in place.

“Where are you going?” she questions. She is no longer crying, instead she has a puzzled look as she watches me.

I walk backwards to look at her, hands in my pockets, and give her a nonchalant shrug and smile. I am going to look for her bracelet.

I scan every inch of the sand as well as along the shoreline. I can’t manage to find it until I walk around the right side of Elliot’s beach cabin. Haley can’t see me from here, but I bend over and pick something up.

She is still watching me as I walk back to her across the beach, hands still placed in my pocket. She just frowns at me as I give her a smug smile. 

Taking my hand out of my pocket, I open my fingers and lay my hand open flat, revealing a golden bracelet with a blue gem.

Haley gasps at the sight of it and scoops it up immediately. Holding the bracelet tight in her hand, she jumps up and wraps her arms around my neck.

“Thank you so much. I won’t forget what you’ve done for me,” she mutters softly. The hug had me taken aback. It took me a moment to process, but when I finally understood what was happening, I wrapped my arms around her to return the hug.

“May I ask what you were doing over there?” I chuckle

“I saw a really nice shell. I had to go pick it up and look at it,” she replies sheepishly.

We continue hugging for a little bit longer, neither of us breaking apart. It leaves me extra confused when I think about our last interaction.

She finally pulls back from me when she realizes how long she spent hugging me. I look down at her to see if I can judge how she is feeling and she shyly tucks a piece of her beautiful, golden hair behind her ear. She isn’t making eye contact with me though, she is too busy looking at the ground.

“Anyways, I’ll see you at the Egg Festival tomorrow, right?” she asks.

“Of course you will. We always end up seeing each other, don’t we?” I remark sarcastically.

“You’re not as funny as you think you are. You do realize that?” she chirps back playfully.

“I like to think I’m pretty funny.”

“Is that why girls always fall in love with you?” 

“Pardon me?” I am visibly taken aback from her comment.

“I overheard you talking to Elliot the other day…sorry,” she smacks herself in the forehead as if the previous words just slipped out of her mouth by accident.

I try to ease her embarrassment by giving her a genuine response, “I mean… It probably is the reason a girl would like me, yeah. Among others I hope. I don’t want to be their personal comedian. I don’t have anyone to ask though so I guess I’ll never know.”

“No one to ask? You haven’t dated anyone before?”

“Nope. No one. Had a few one night stands though…” I trail off as I notice Haley’s face drop, “...umm… what’s that face for?”

She takes another step back from me and I see her eyes start watering. She quickly wipes them away hoping I didn’t notice and clears her throat. “What face? I didn’t make a face. You’re seeing things,” she is now acting as if she has been as cool as a cucumber this whole time.

I scratch my head awkwardly, unsure of what to say next. I finally landed on flipping the conversation back to her, “What about you? What’s your love life like? You and Alex seem pretty close.”

That was a big mistake. The tears start welling up along her waterline and they manage to escape this time. 

“It’s complicated.” is all she spits out.

“Trouble in paradise?” I respond empathetically. I try to place a hand on her shoulder and she pushes it away. 

“You could say that.”

Taking the hints, I decided to stop prying and changed the topic immediately, “We are supposed to have great weather tomorrow for the festival!”  I think those are the lamest words I have ever uttered in my life. 

Haley bursts out laughing like it’s the funniest thing she has ever heard. The tears of sadness turn to tears of laughter. Her laughter is so contagious, it gets me laughing with her.

“That was the lamest attempt at a conversation change I have ever seen,” she explodes with more laughter. I wasn’t the only one to think that I guess.

“I’m sorry! I didn’t know what else to say!” I continue to laugh. 

Our laughter dies down, and she turns and starts to leave. Before she walks away though she calls back to me, “I will see you tomorrow in the nice weather at the Egg Festival.”

I stick my tongue out at her and she does it right back. Haley is a huge whirlwind of emotions.

[somestorythoughts]

Eldritch Echo - Part 7

I return. There are explanations here! The kind that answer the what and not the why, but explanations nonetheless. Someone also asks if they can eat the Chancellor, but I promise he doesn't actually want to eat him. That much corruption definitely tastes nasty. Also @mezmatch I'm not sure if I've been tagging correctly but hope this is visible.

In Coruscant, CMO Blood ignores the way the wall across from him peels away from the emerging face with stone eyes and needle-long fangs. He’s stitching a gash in the leg of one of his Corries and isn’t about to pause to look at a dramatic ARC.

“Sitrep?”

“I’ve finished with the Guard. The slicers developed something, but they were debating how to send it out last night. I don’t know if they’ve decided yet. And you?”

“I’ve got the files. Three copies with me, three with the medics you directed me to on Kamino. You sure we can’t-”

“I didn’t know you wanted to be a cannibal so badly.”

“I don’t, I’m just saying that if we ate him we’d be extra sure he wouldn’t survive.”

“A beheading is just as effective and less gross.” Blood replied, leaving the unconscious vod so he could wash his hands. “Give me one of those copies and then keep yourself busy for the next two hours. The meeting is in two and a half, and we need you to play your part in this plan.”

ARC Trooper Fives grins, eager and angry. “Don’t worry Blood. I’ll be there.”

…

In the Marauder, Wrecker approaches Echo, who’s been reading for the past hour. “We’re gonna talk about what we know about your thing. I thought you’d want to know, and since you’d probably listen in anyway I should just invite you?”

“Thanks Wrecker.” Echo replies. He’d been listening to their conversations as much to know if they wanted to kick him out as to see how their investigation was going. As a twin he’s used to looking strange from time to time, but there’s strange and there’s forcibly and painfully altered before being used to kill vod. He’s growing comfortable with his new limbs and his new team, but he hasn’t fully reached comfortable yet. And he thinks it’s mutual, maybe especially now that he’s been messing with them.

But hiding it isn’t a long-term solution, not on a ship this small. The Bad Batch says they like weird. If they’re honest about that, his tendency to occasionally grow claws and turn blue shouldn’t be a problem.

He catches Hunter’s eye when he follows Wrecker in and the Sergent shrugs. Crosshair gives Echo his usual scowl, which he uses for everything from inconvenient terrain to burned coffee, so that’s probably not too bad. “Any chance you’ll just give us an answer?”

“It’s payback.” Echo grins, needle-sharp for all of a second. “For those two times you forgot I hadn’t memorized your plans yet. And the smell of the ship. It’s also entertaining.”

“Your plans are the same kind of crazy don’t deny it.” Hunter sighs. “Can you at least agree not to lie if we ask?”

“I never lied. Not for these questions.” And it’s true. Crosshair may have gotten nowhere with his questions, but every answer Echo had given had been either blatantly ridiculous or true but vague. He’d gotten a lot of entertainment out of it this week.

“We should start by reviewing what we know.” Tech states. “Echo has some form of deviancy from the Prime that expresses itself in multiple ways. They mostly appear to be physical but has also included using his shadow to eavesdrop and talk to us when he was in another room.” He paused, then glanced up. “Incidentally, could you use that to scout ahead?”

Echo made a so-so gesture. “Depends on the terrain. I wouldn’t recommend it over someone scouting ahead in person, but it’s helped before. And I’m not separate from my shadow, I can’t pay attention to what’s in front of me and what’s in front of my shadow at the same time.”

“That is good to know.” Tech replied. “We have seen multiple examples of your shape changing in small ways, not enough to indicate your limits, though from your comment about your prosthetics I believe you either cannot alter them or are still learning how to. Is that correct?”

“Yeah.”

“Could you elaborate?”

Echo tilts his head back, frowning. He’s tried to put words to this before, he likes words, and he’s trying to remember what he’d thought then. “The changing is a bit like a reflex. You can stop it – we all did our best too while we were on Kamino – but it’s also partly automatic. My body’s still adjusting to the prosthetics so they don’t change as much on their own, and I’m still adjusting mentally, so it takes a little more effort to do something like this.”

He raised his right arm. The scomp end split apart into something like a flower, Torrent blue with red stripes.

“There are more of you then.” Hunter states.

Echo smiled, bittersweet. The sweet glowed under his irises, the bitter ached in his throat and bruised his skin as if it was trying to do more than metaphorically suffocate him. “It’s never a good idea to assume you’re entirely alone in the universe. The first pair were decommissioned within their first year. The Kaminoans like uniformity, and from what Ninety-Nine told me that first pair was way off the mark. He said it was as if all of us that came later got the message somehow, our differences were quieter as tubies. But we’ve never adhered to uniformity well.”

Echo, who found comfort in the kind of quiet minute detail-work that was essential but considered boring, who had been threatened a time too many with decommissioning, and who was often overshadowed by his louder twin, had been an exception to that norm. Not anymore.

“And who’s we?” Crosshair asked.

As fun as this game has been, he might as well wrap it up. “We’re twins Crosshair. Myself and Fives, Cobalt and Cerulean, you know that absurdly cheerful medic in the 212th? He’s another.”

“But what is a twin when we’re all clones?”

Echo shrugged. “We just are. You know how you know how to reassemble a blaster, effortlessly and thoughtlessly? It’s like that but without the endless drills. Or the way most batches pick oldest and youngest by vibes. Each twin in a set was decanted on the same day, and when we find each other, we know. Fives I, I don’t remember meeting him and if he says he does he’s lying but, we’ve always known. Someone suggested there was Force stuff involved and it’s as good an explanation as any, but I don’t think any of us knows the why of it.”

Tech and Crosshair shared a glance before Tech said, almost hesitantly, “I read the report of ARC trooper Fives’ death. But you always talk about him in the present.”

Echo’s next breath shudders. “I, I would know. He’s the other half of my soul and I would know if he was truly gone. There was this shiny in Torrent a bit before the Citadel called Dogma. He’d lost his twin a few months before being sent out and I think the only thing keeping him going was his remaining batcher and his extreme loyalty to the Republic. He told him that he felt his twin die from all the way across Tipoca City. So I’d know.”

The squad glances at each other uncertainly and anything they might have said interrupted by a beeping from the console. Tech hurried to the pilot’s seat and Hunter sighed. “Mission time boys.”

Echo shoved up from the seat. Time to get to work.

[vipers-hat]

Call Me When You're Sober

Ship: Past Enver Gortash x Tav (Reina) Rating: M Summary: As pieces of Reina's forgotten past start revealing themselves, including her old ties to Lord Gortash, ignorance can no longer stay bliss, and she has her memories restored. Instead of fixing things, it only complicates them. Note: Features @euryalex's Tara, heavy spoilers for Act 3, NSFT (don't get too excited, nothing terribly spicy)

It wasn't supposed to go like this. Memory loss from a head injury was going to be a setback, not a curse. But seeing the apparition in front of her, she wasn't so sure.

“...I thought we were friends. Return to the city, find Orin, and claim her Netherstone as you agreed to do. And then I will forget this transgression.”

Reina stared at the flickering blue image of Gortash on the screen that had popped up on the sub, hardly paying attention to the threat. This was the face of the man who her old self was bound to, who had memories with her that were all but ghosts now. He had kissed her so thoroughly when he found out she wasn’t Orin in her form that it gave more questions than answers. 

The projection’s eyes found hers briefly, and his lip curled again just as it had hours prior. Something inside her lurched. She hated disappointing him. But why? Why did this break her? He was a threat. He was a problem they needed to solve. But now he was stopping them from resolving a bigger problem. The phantom turned his attention back to Farowyn and arched a questioning eyebrow. 

Farowyn leaned forward, closer to the screen. “Hey Gortash, cut the-“

“Farowyn, stop…” Reina’s voice came softy from behind her. It sounded off, too far away. 

Farowyn turned to look at her. “What? You can’t seriously be considering his offer any longer."

Whatever challenge was on Gortash’s face seconds ago was suddenly gone, replaced by smugness. “Oh? What’s this? Trouble within the ranks? You should all listen to-“ 

“Gor-“ Reina cut herself off. No. Use the first name she had learned. Maybe it would help. “Enver. Please. You too. I cannot do this any longer. I’ve lost too many people I’ve come to care about when I’ve had nothing for weeks. I can’t let this happen. I can’t let you hurt anyone else.”

He was ready to meet her protest. “Good. So tell your people to turn around-“

“No,” Reina cut him off, trying not to flinch at the venom he had said 'yours' with. “Not to mention I’m down here, you blow this place up, I go down with the ship. And I doubt you want that. I have a new offer.” 

He looked through her now. The resulting silence was deafening, only broken by the metallic clanging of the submersible. And then:  “I’m listening.”

“You let these people go. The Duke, the Mind Flayer, the Gondians. All of these people go free.”

“For?”

“Me. You wanted your audience, you want to talk things out, it’s done. I’ll come willingly but these people get to see daylight again.” 

Her friends all started talking at once, but she held up a hand to quiet them. “If you kill these people, we are done. No chances for ‘amends’ or ‘getting to know you again.’”

His image stared her down again, and something in the strange shift of energy made her feel like they were the only two people there in that moment. In another life, in another time, it should’ve felt romantic.

“Quite the bargaining chip you’re about to throw away, My Darling. You’ve assessed your value to me correctly. Underestimated, even. But are you sure you’re willing to play that hand now? Give yourself up for all these people?” His tone was the usual mocking he spoke to them with, but there was something else there this time. Then, without the mocking edge: “They’re strangers.”

“So are you.” 

Something flashed in his eyes, even conveyed over the magical waves. He glanced away, clearly having battling thoughts. 

Shit. That had hurt him, gotten him where it counted. It was good, but she knew it could end badly. She needed to make or break this. “But I’m willing to change that so long as this goes my way.” Still, she needed something else. “If you love me as much as you want me to think you do, you’ll do this.” The manipulation felt wrong, dirty, cruel - but this was his game and she was going to play it. Briefly she wondered if this was the old her coming through. Was she so vicious before, with her words like knives just like him? Is that why they had worked so well? 

Gortash was silent again, fuming, and briefly Reina wondered if she had ruined everything, if he was going to set the place to ruin over her interference.

“… Fine. Conditions met.” He turned to Farowyn. “Go rescue these people. Be the heroes you so desperately want to be. We will talk when it’s sorted after you’ve surfaced.” He did nothing to hide the underlying threat. The alliance could be in peril now. “And Reina,” he turned his attention back to her. “Come home. Alone.” 

The feed cut off, and everyone in the sub waited in dead silence for a few seconds. They hardly believed that it had worked. So they waited a few more minutes, but no threat came. The place remained intact- if not a little rickety. 

Farowyn, Gale, Wyll and Astarion had gone down to retrieve Wyll’s father, Omeluum and the others. 

Reina had stayed behind, lost in her own head and trying to help the survivors get settled as they came up. She tried to sort out the scraps that she had learned from the man himself. She had been Gortash’s right hand. They had been engaged to be married. They had a son. And there wasn’t supposedly a lie if the negotiation on the sub was to be believed. He loved- or perhaps just cared for her enough that he would trade anything for her safe return. There were too many moving parts now. She tucked her head down, hovering just above her knees as the world spun. It was too much all at once. She was torn, but why? Were her old memories somewhere in her brain causing conflict? Was she endlessly loyal to Gortash? Did part of her not want them to succeed for fear of losing him? By the time they had reached the surface and given up the sub’s captain to the ladies of the water, Reina had come to a conclusion. If she was going to Gortash, she was going to try to be prepared as possible. She was going to talk to the Emporer to see if it was possible to put her memories right. Maybe it was the tadpole interfering. And so she had taken the Artifact from Farowyn briefly, asked for an audience, and the Emporer had arrived, heard her request, and with a deep sigh- admitted it all. 

The head injury she had chalked up her amnesia to was a cover story- fed to her by the Emporer no less. The Mind Flayer had come across her on the beach, recognized her from her past with Gortash, and upon knowing she was a fierce, powerful fighter they could use, had wiped the better part of the last thirteen years from her brain- all of the ties to Gortash. ‘I needed an asset, not a liability.’ 

It felt like the worst betrayal yet. Now all she felt like was a loose cannon with no clear allies outside the main group. Most of the trust she had built in him all but disappeared in an instant. Maybe she should’ve gone to Raphael about all this. Too late now. “Fuck that. Give me back what you took,” Reina spoke after a long moment. It was the only way she could trust him again. Besides, Gortash had named his terms: “Come home.” It was simple- but then she had no idea where ‘home’ was. And then she concluded she needed her memories back to have the biggest chance- and she would make the Emporer return them. 

“That will prove to be an unwise choice,” The Emporer answered. 

“I don’t care. I’ve lost enough. Give me back what you took. Give me back my life.” 

“And if you revert to… your old self?” The Emporer inquired. 

“Then you can sense it, and you’ve got all these people here to strike me down for it.” 

“Are you… sure, Rei?” Karlach asked from the back. 

Reina looked at her. Of course, Karlach would be the most skeptical. She deserved to be. And her heart ached for the both of them. It was true. What if she did come back… different? Her old self? How would she be with Karlach? Still, she wanted to try. Needed to. “I have to, Karlach. I can’t… not know. This whole time I’ve felt like more than my memories are missing, and now I know why, and I just-”

“I get it,” Karlach offered. She smiled weakly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. 

“Hey, Emperor, everybody. Karlach gets the first and last shot at me if this ends badly, and I go back to Stab-Happy me.” 

Karlach laughed weakly, and the others merely murmured in agreement, too weary to say much else. “For what it’s worth, love or loved the new you.” 

“Same to you.” 

Karlach hesitated, then pulled her into a hug before releasing her quickly. “Sorry. I just… needed to get that in. Just in case.” 

“It’s good. I’m glad you did,” Reina assured her. She looked at the others, who merely watched her sadly or nodded their own brief potential goodbyes. She turned back to the Emporer. “Now, do it.” 

The Emporer nodded. “It will feel strange,” he explained before he drifted over to her. 

“Worth it.” 

He extended a hand, and magic flowed between his fingers. He waited a moment, then touched her head. 

The effect was immediate. There was a rush of strange energy, enough to send her to her knees. Her head spun, and then suddenly, there were rushes of images- memories. 

She was young, surviving on the streets. A woman steals the bread she had paid a few days’ wages to get. She’s hungry, desperate. The next moment, the thief lies dead in the street, her blood running off the knife in Reina’s hand. It wouldn’t be the last time she did it. Several such occurrences pile on from the first. 

The flashes continue as they slide back into place in her mind. Her first was certainly not the last. More people fall to her blade—some over important offenses and petty reasons. A Flaming Fist grabs her ass at a tavern. She pounces, clawing at his face and shoving a knife between his ribs. She’s got an audience. She’s immediately thrown out of the bar and is threatened that more of the Fists are on the way. So she runs- straight into a broad chest once she goes around the corner. One of the stranger’s hands cradles her elbow and the other her waist as he apologizes, but before she can accuse him of being a lech, his hands are gone. He introduces himself as ‘Enver’ and informs her he saw the ‘display’ at the tavern. She panics, and then he’s got the audacity to shush her, and she’s incredulous until he offers an easy, knowing, attractive smile and offers her a job. He’s got a ‘dangerous’ business to run, and he needs someone to watch his back who isn’t ‘afraid to get their hands dirty.’ She feels like it’s a trap of some sort, then he assures her it ‘pays handsomely.’ What was she supposed to do?

Time drifts forward. She becomes Enver’s right hand, mostly there to stand silent and look scary and produce a flame in her hands when things start to sour. 

Men cheat Enver, and they meet her blade or fire - it doesn’t matter which one to her. 

Enver wines and dines her on occasion after a ‘job well done,’ and the pair talk about their rough pasts. It’s nice knowing someone else out there had been so wronged. He starts calling her “Reina, my Reina,” and it warms her in all the right places. 

Enver gains power, and ‘Gortash’ starts carrying weight around town. Still, people doubt his prowess, and they either suffer the fate of the others or they’re spooked enough by her looming presence that they relent. 

Months later, there’s some big job. Reina doesn’t understand all the details. Still, Enver does most of the intimidating this time. She’s there for backup. It’s got no business being so attractive. After they come into their payday, Reina guides him into a dark corner outside his home when they’ve seen his buyers off, basking and emboldened with the heat in his eyes as he lets himself be led. She leans up and kisses him. It’s slow, and after a moment, Reina realizes he isn’t giving much in return, and she pulls back, afraid she misread the signs, and then suddenly he’s on her, crushing her to the stone wall and kissing her back with three times the force she had. Her world narrows down to him, trying to keep track of limbs when they get lost in each other, and when he hoists her up into his arms, she goes willingly, locking her arms around him as he tries to get back into his home as quickly as possible. 

They don’t even make it to the damned bed. There’s a table in the foyer, and Enver shoves everything off of it before placing her on it, and they get to work tearing at clothes. And then he’s inside her as the pair exchange heated kisses. They eventually make it to his bed, and she rides him, and everything feels right in the world. 

Life continues like that. She intimidates his enemies; he makes deals, they fuck. At some point, lust turns firmly to love, and she hopes it’s mutual. Enver recruits more people to the cause. One such person is Karlach, and somewhere where her minds are meeting, her stomach twists at the recognition. 

Enver’s invited to parties now, given his reputation. He brings her on his arm, and she feels all sorts of powerful, enjoying the thrills of high society, the dresses, the wine, the poorly disguised competitions of who’s got more money or power or whatever the current interest was. 

One such party has her in a flowing red dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. Enver can barely keep his hands off her between the business dealings, and she soaks it all in. They speak to someone; she can’t recall his name. Aevan, she thinks. Enver’s hands rest teasingly on her thigh under their dinner table as they talk business. 

Reina grows bored with it quickly, and her eyes drift to a raven-haired elf in the corner, looking terrified. Tara. It was Aevan. They had known each other. Or maybe ‘known’ was a strong word. 

After that, she sees Aevan more and Tara less. It’s a concern, but she’s not that invested. Business is business. 

Somehow Enver grows powerful enough to deal with Zariel. She doesn’t know the details either, but he’s anxious. Karlach goes missing from the glimpses after that and she assumes there was a deal for her. Her current knowledge swims with the newly revealed information, and the twist in her stomach becomes a damned tempest. She knew. She knew.

Later, a doctor tells her she’s with child. Enver’s ecstatic, talking about legacy, a family. She points out that the mighty Enver Gortash shouldn’t have a bastard child. He proposes then and there, and she insists that he shouldn’t be ‘marrying the help’ either- and to his credit, he’s incredulous at that, assuring her that she’s more, but she refuses- and then tells him they’ll be married ‘when he means it’- she didn’t even understand that now. She wants to be ‘away from it all’, and the same should be said about raising a child. She supposes that’s clearer. Perhaps. Enver buys them another house in the Lower City by the water. A ‘Summer Home’ he had called it, though it had gained the reputation of a ‘Love Nest’ for those of his associates who had started to wonder about Gortash and his ‘Head of Security’ but had no idea about the boy.

Their son- Thomas, is born and grows. She takes a temporary retirement from her position to raise him. Enver’s a decent father, stopping by as much as possible given his ever-growing-busier schedule. He’s there for the milestones: first steps, first words. 

Thomas is four when Enver gets the idea for what she now knows is the Steel Watch. When he’s at home, he tinkers with various mechanical pieces, talking at Thomas for the most part as the boy watches him without knowing what he’s doing. It’s a lovely, joyful sight for the old Reina, but the tempest in the new one’s stomach sours. Gortash is dangerous, not to be trusted, not to be humanized, but there’s something too soft in this. She knows it’s real, but it feels wrong. Enver isn’t Gortash.

The Steel Watch idea takes off. Enver becomes less of a laughing stock in town as the first few models help with Baldur’s Gate security. 

She makes a passing joke about being redundant after the Steel Watch takes over her job. He assures her that it wouldn’t happen; she’s still his favorite guard and takes her to bed to prove it. It should’ve been sweet. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong. 

A competitor tries to kill Enver sometime after that. Enver survives, Reina comes out of retirement to strike the man down, and they move on, but Enver’s weary. Good, Newer Reina notes bitterly.

Enver makes a special Steel Watch automaton as a gift for Thomas’ seventh birthday. An added security measure, designed solely to keep close to Thomas, keep him safe from threats ‘as backup to his dear mother, of course.’  Thomas nicknames him ‘Shadow’ fittingly. 

Months pass of the same. Enver starts a project that he keeps mostly quiet about. He’s quick to relent when she finally asks, holding her close and telling her stories about the Absolute and being a Chosen for Bane. It sounds like nonsense, but there had been rumors about these ‘Absolute’ attacks around the city where people credited ‘her.’ She’s skeptical, but he apologizes for keeping her out of the loop and promises to do better. Liar, New Reina thinks. 

Unfortunately, she’s proven wrong. Enver’s very open about it and starts talking about ‘invasion plans.’ It’s still preposterous until he notes that it’s an easy power grab for them. A better life for them and Thomas. A nicer life, ‘no more shadows. Well, aside from our automaton friend.’ 

He eases her concerns with a kiss and a “Marry me now” against her lips. She agrees. He takes her to bed again, asking how ‘Lady Gortash’ sounds, going over a would-be timeline in the afterglow. There’d be a coronation. He’d marry her that day, declare her his wife after he was knighted. Let Thomas’ secret out. Sure, he’d have a reputation, but who would argue with a Lord? A Lord with Bane’s blessing behind him? 

It works. New Reina wished it didn’t.

Old Reina teases him afterward, telling him she wants him all to herself- a small wedding before the pomp and circumstance. Only they would know about it, their little secret. 

He agreed, and then, the following day, he arranged the paperwork and an officiant and married her by the sea a couple of days later, promising that she’d get the ‘real doting’ she deserved at the ceremony. 

It hit Reina then as the memory slid home. The Coronation. When this version of her met him, she crashed her own wedding without knowing it. No wonder Gortash had been so stunned. Not only that, but she was a bride with no memory. That explained it. Orin had called her ‘Runaway Bride’ in the sewers. The missing pieces slid into place. All the confusion began to clear. 

Fittingly, she meets Orin next in her memories. She’s terrifying as she was months or weeks or whatever it was later.  Orin tests her, producing a knife seemingly out of thin air and dancing the tip along Enver’s side when he had been distracted enough when it first made contact that he didn’t react until it dug into his skin. Reina had been faster, however, rushing her and pressing the blade against Orin’s throat. 

Orin had giggled at that and clapped, declaring that she liked her. ‘You’re much too fun for Gortash.’ 

She disappeared in a red cloud after that. 

Reina had barely left Enver’s side after that- until she had to. 

Some sort of ship appeared, ripping its way through the atmosphere. There was panic in the streets, and she had gone out to quell some of it, only for Orin to pop up in front of her when she had made it to the city proper. 

“So sorry about this, Spare, but Gortash loves you so, so very much - it’s going to be fun watching him struggle without you. Hurting him is just… so delicious. Wonder how he’ll cope with a runaway bride.” 

She had stared for a moment, then upon figuring that had been an apt threat, she pulled her knife on her, then froze when Orin shifted into a mirror image of her. She finally found herself on the receiving end of her own predatory smile. Orin-Her waved, and Reina turned to see a large tentacle directly behind her. She barely had time to react before it collided with her chest, and she felt herself get ripped to shreds- 

And she woke in one piece, locked into some sort of apparatus in the dark- on the ship? She panicked, but the more she struggled, the tighter the strange bonds on her limbs and over her chest tightened. There was suddenly a hiss, and a red mist spilled into the pod. She fell into a deep sleep. 

She woke to the sound of an explosion. She looked around, and there was chaos. The dark surroundings were engulfed in flames, falling apart. From straight ahead, someone had jumped out of a hole ripped into the ship's side. One of her future companions, no doubt. Sleep called to her again, and despite fighting it, she went back under. She woke up shortly after as the flames had grown since- but that also meant she had less time to escape. She struggled again, and the bonds loosened. Good. Whatever mechanic had been hit controlled her bonds. She rotated her wrists experimentally, and when the bonds gave more, she faced her palms out towards the glass, focused, and sent flames hitting the cover. It shattered, and after some maneuvering, she wiggled out the rest of the way. She found her footing and immediately headed for the hole, but the ship suddenly lurched and sent her flying. 

The ship took another hit, and the velocity sent her straight for the hole. She was relieved- until she cleared the ship and realized just how far up the ship had been. There was a thousand-foot drop from her and the ground, and it was closing in fast. Well, that just did it. She was about to die due to someone finally cheating her. It was karma, she supposed. Thomas, I’m sorry. 

New Reina held her breath just as much- this was it. How it all happened. 

She closed her eyes and waited, expecting it to all stop, but even as she could hear the wind growing louder, passing around trees or whatever would be her grave, it all stopped. She risked cracking an eye open, only to find she was surrounded by some sort of purple magic, hovering a mere few inches up off the ground. What in the Hells? The purple faded, and she was dropped gently on the ground. She sat up and then panicked again when the space in front of her seemed to tear open, and a Mind Flayer stepped out of the gap. She screamed, only for it to lift a hand- and silence her. That did nothing to her, and she tried to scream louder and went for her knife, but it was long gone, probably lost in the fall. 

The Mind Flayer stepped closer and shifted his hand. “You. This is a surprise.”  the Emporer’s voice entered her mind. He closed in, touching the side of her head, then the front. You will be useful. Well, if that wasn’t a terrifying thought. “Be at peace. I will find you and the others later.” 

Suddenly there was a tremendous pressure- not pain, but not pleasant either, and Reina felt it all over again as she realized this was the turning point- undoing whatever memory magic he had used.

The matching sensations collided, and whatever remaining loose ends in her memory slammed back into place, and Reina was whole again- no Old Her, no new. Just her. It was overwhelming and dizzying, and when she felt The Emporer’s hand release her - the snap feeling was enough to send her to the ground, retching. Even her magic was skewed by the sensation- she felt flames explode from her hands into the sand below them, and she would hardly be surprised if she pulled glass up with them. 

Her head stopped spinning, and she looked up at the others. The Emporer observed her, subtly leaning towards Farowyn- a silent order to be ready to strike. She looked at the others gaping at her, but then her focus immediately shifted to Tara and Karlach, standing together, also leaning towards each other, clearly aware that they’d be the most affected by the retrieval of her memories. She shot upright, and they visibly tensed, ready to go onto the defense, and even if she expected to be attacked, she launched herself at the pair of them, looping an arm around each of them, pulling them closer, shoving her neck between them so she could force their heads together. She didn’t know when she started sobbing, but she was.  “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry. I couldn’t- I can’t- I-”

“Good. We get Rei back. So long, Bronze,” Karlach offered, careful where she held her to return the hug. “Can’t exactly forgive you from back then, but this one? Yeah. ‘Sides, I guess Gortash’s dick can be a hell of a manipulator. Unfortunately.”

Reina managed a half-laugh, half-grossed-out groan that matched Karlach’s even as she made the joke. She looked Tara’s way, and when the woman offered a reassuring smile but said nothing, she sighed, trying to gather herself. “Aevan’s on the list of bastards we take down after all this if we make it out alive. I promise.” 

“Sounds good to me,” Tara agreed. 

Reina looked at the others, who were all watching them curiously, either touched or relieved- to her own surprise, Astarion was in the group of the former. She turned her attention back to the Emporer. She opened her mouth, then shut it. 

“I hope you can understand.  It was the only way.” It hesitated. “I implore you honestly: Can you pursue our cause with this knowledge? I will know if you lie.” 

She stared at him incredulously, then sighed. “I…” Did she truly not know after this? Her mind was still swimming with the possibilities, the conflicting feelings. Could she betray the man that she did love? Gortash hadn’t remotely lied about that. “Yes. But… my son. I need him safe. I… I need to play the field, but I’m with you. En- Gortash has caused too much damage. They all have. My son’s got nothing to do with this. He’s innocent, he doesn’t understand.” 

The Emperor waited a moment, then nodded. “See that it is done. I sensed no ill will in the boy. Hardly his father’s son.”

She didn’t care for his tone then, picking up on a hypothetical threat. If he did show any of Gortash’s personality, what then? Protectiveness swelled in her.  No wonder she had been so inclined to care for every child she came across. It was probably part of her trying to remind her of Thomas. 

The Mind Flayer picked up on it and put his hands out, this time in relative surrender. “He’s safe from harm; you have my word. I have no doubt you’ll keep him from straying from the right path.”

She didn’t know how to dignify that with a response. “I’ll make contact as soon as I can.” 

“See that you do,” The Emporer responded, keeping her gaze when she glared back at him. 

The others protested, too, promising not to stray far from the estate once she pointed it out on a map from the glimpses she had seen. She had said her goodbyes then and headed for the Upper City, finally reaching their mansion. Bronze accents were everywhere. She supposed they really did have a color theme going. 

The front door opened and Gortash himself looked back at her from the threshold. She couldn’t read his face, much like she couldn’t on the sub. Sure, there was cold fury there, disappointment, skepticism, but something warmer. Relief? Hope, in an ironic twist? It was a small comfort that she didn’t know, even with her memories intact. She understood him less than she feared. 

They continued the stare down for a while, and when Reina took a careful step forward, eyes not leaving his, he finally stepped aside and crossed his arms over his chest. 

"Reina, My Reina. Welcome home.” 

[lords-of-mayhem]

In The Interim

Ship: Euronymous x Dead

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: Dry humping, frottage, grinding

Words: 1,079

“You fucked up the makeup,” Øystein teased, echoing Pelle’s earlier words back at him.

Both of their paint was currently smeared across Pelle’s face, a result of him finally breaking down and kissing him with no regard for how it would affect it. Black paint had turned gray as it met the white carefully applied to Pelle’s lips, but both were paying more attention to each other rather than the makeup. 

“I’ll fix it later,” Pelle promised and kissed him again, equally desperate this time as he had been the first. He seemed unable to get enough of Øystein and the dark haired man had to admit it was flattering. 

His fingers wove into blonde strands, curling around them gently. He did his best to not get too rough with Pelle, not until he knew if he wanted that. Pelle had always chased pain if the scars that littered his body were anything to go by, but maybe intimacy was different. Maybe he wanted to be treated like something fragile for once, something worth holding gently. 

Pelle kissed like he needed it and Øystein was happy to give it to him. The already small bathroom felt even more cramped as Pelle moved close to him, but he didn’t mind it. He enjoyed having the other this close, no real room in between their bodies. Øystein groaned against his mouth as one of Pelle’s legs pressed between his thighs. 

He was almost halfway hard just from kissing Pelle which would embarrass him if he wasn’t so caught up in everything going on. Pelle’s thigh moved with purpose, acting as though he knew what he was doing. Øystein wouldn’t be surprised at all if he did and was doing this to rile him up more. When Pelle forced his leg against him more firmly, Øystein realized exactly what he wanted him to do. 

Øystein was a bit awkward as he began moving against him, trying to find a comfortable angle. He gasped on the first rock forward, surprised by just how good the friction felt. His cheeks burned bright pink at himself, flustered about essentially humping Pelle’s thigh and how needy he sounded for it. He was sure he looked desperate, but Pelle didn’t seem to mind. The blonde smiled down at him and kept his leg in place for him. 

“Does it feel good?” Pelle asked and he nodded almost immediately, glancing up at him. “Good. Keep going,” He encouraged and that was all Øystein needed. His free arm wrapped around Pelle’s middle to pull him closer and his thighs squeezed tighter around Pelle’s leg. Each rub along Pelle’s warm, solid thigh made him want to shiver. It was surprisingly good and Pelle’s fingers finding his own hair only spurred him on. 

Pelle’s fingers twirled through his dark locks and pressed another kiss to his lips. Øystein had a hard time even calling it a kiss. It had more teeth and tongue than anything else, but that was so fitting for Pelle. His teeth sank into Øystein’s bottom lip, biting down a bit too roughly. It earned a small whimper from Øystein and this time, he couldn’t even be bothered to feel embarrassed by it. All he could focus on was the pleasure. 

“The makeup really is fucked up,” Pelle noted when he pulled away from the kiss this time around. He was smiling at Øystein, genuinely smiling in a way he hadn’t seen in a while. He laughed back, although the noise was breathless. His hips continued to rock at the pace he’d found, doing what worked best. He’d finally gotten the angle worked out and he was afraid to lose it if he slowed down. 

“Looks like you have lipstick on,” Øystein told him. The hand that had been in his hair moved to Pelle’s face instead, pulling the hair away from the paint on his cheeks. His hair looked unusually dark against the stark white paint, but he was beautiful. “You should do it more often,” He added and Pelle laughed loudly, moving his head to the side of Øystein’s neck instead. 

Pelle began rocking against his body as well, rubbing along his hip more than his thigh. He dug his teeth down into Øystein’s skin, making the smaller man jolt beneath the feeling. Øystein let out a quiet groan and knew he wasn’t going to last much longer, especially not if Pelle kept biting. He didn’t foresee it stopping, the blonde had always had a penchant for sinking his teeth into things he probably shouldn’t. 

“Fuck, Pelle. Too much,” Øystein tried to scold, but his words were halfhearted and Pelle knew he didn’t truly mean them. He kept going, licking over the spot he had just bitten. Blood hadn’t been drawn this time, but the threat was always there. “I’m going to come,” He warned him and as expected, Pelle didn’t back off. He wasn’t usually one for teasing, not when it went this far. 

“Come for me then,” Pelle encouraged and Øystein nodded the best he could. Teeth and tongue returned to his skin, sucking a mark close to his jaw. It was much too high for Øystein to be able to cover it with clothes and he suspected Pelle did that on purpose. 

Both of Øystein’s arms wrapped around his middle, forcing him even closer to him. He didn’t even pull away now, simply rubbing himself up against Pelle like a cat. A moan escaped from deep in his throat, sounding just as desperate as he felt and he was spilling into his boxers after a few more moments. He didn’t stop until he was bordering on overstimulation, whining as he tried to pull away. 

Pelle kept him close for a bit longer. Luckily, it didn’t take many more minutes before Pelle was letting out a noise of his own. It was light and airy, and Øystein was shocked by it. Pelle usually wasn’t terribly vocal, so he especially treasured every noise he did manage to draw out. Even if he didn’t really do anything except stand there this time around. He recognized Pelle had finally come as well, gently pulling away after a bit. “Jesus,” Øystein breathed as he tried to catch his breath. Looking up at Pelle, he examined his features for a second. He was disheveled, hair messy and lips parted. “You’re wearing my corpse paint,” Øystein said once he managed to regain his composure, a small smile on his lips.

[afteriwake]

9. Write about a heated debate -- Jane and Darcy about Darcy's love life (you can pick the ship).

I decided to put this in my "Just Pieces On The Board" series with Jane and Darcy discussing her relationship with Loki (because I don't think Darcy dating Steve or Stephen would upset Jane that much...Bucky would probably be forgiven more easily because of his brainwashing, but Loki would draw more incredulity).

Differing Opinions - Darcy and Jane have differing opinions on Darcy's budding relationship with Loki.

READ @ AO3 | SERIES PAGE

“I can’t believe--” Jane took a deep breath. “You and Loki?”

“He’s changed,” Darcy said. “I mean, you’ve been around him since the trip to Asgard. It’s not like it was a surprise. We spent nearly a week in bed before I moved here to New York!”

“Yes, but a fling I can see. An actual relationship? No way.”

“I don’t need your permission to date him,” Darcy said, bristling slightly. She and Loki had just figured out that a relationship was what they had, and it was something they wanted to keep. Thor had been happy for her and his brother, but here was Jane, on her high horse about it. “And besides, Thor is happy for us, and Loki said his mom is too. They know him better than you or I do.”

“And that’s the point. He’s only been back on Earth for, what. A few weeks now? How long did he leave you alone?”

“I could ask the same of Thor. No one seems to be giving you the third degree.”

“My boyfriend didn’t launch a full scale invasion of New York!” Jane said exasperatedly, throwing her hands up in the air.

“And he’s paid for it. Thor said he’s paying his debt, and the world governments made Thor his babysitter. He’s changed!” Darcy turned away from her friend. “Why can’t you just be happy for me? I’m happy with him.”

“You’d be happier with someone less megalomaniacal,” she said.

“Get out,” Darcy said quietly.

“What?” Jane asked, her eyes wide.

“You don’t get to dictate who I date and I don’t want to continue this conversation, so go before I say something I’ll really regret.” Jane, smartly enough, said no more, grabbing her knapsack and leaving Darcy’s apartment.

I’m not going to cry, Darcy thought to herself before a tear dropped down her face. She dashed it away and stood up, going into her kitchen and pulling down ingredients for...something. She’d figure it out depending on what she had.

An hour later there was a pan of Better than Sex brownies cooling on the counter and another one in the oven. She’d make a bunch and plate them up and leave them in the common room for everyone to enjoy. Except Jane. She doesn’t deserve to enjoy the gooey goodness of my brownies, she thought to herself as she started to make her third batch.

There was a knock on the door and she set her spatula down before going to the door. Jane stood there, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Darce. You’re right. I shouldn’t try dictating who you date. You’ve always had good judgement in the men you associate with.”

Darcy leaned against the doorjamb. “You talked to Thor?”

“Actually, I talked to Loki,” she said, and Darcy’s eyes widened. “He’s totally smitten. Maybe already in love with you. But...I don’t think he’d hurt you, at least not on purpose.”

“Come on in,” Darcy said, moving out of the way.

“He didn’t get angry, though he had every right to. I was basically questioning both of your judgment when I should have at least trusted yours. I mean, I’m in the wrong, and I hope you can forgive me.”

“Of course I can. Come ’ere,” Darcy said, opening up her arms. Jane grinned and gave her best friend a tight hug which Darcy eagerly returned. “Come on, you can have some of the first batch of brownies I made. They’re still warm.”

“Better Than Sex brownies, I take it?”

“You know it.”

“I can’t resist,” Jane said, moving to the counter. Darcy grinned and knew that whatever Loki had said it spoke well for them, and for him too, and she was glad. She was absolutely smitten with him, too, and she wanted them to be together for as long as possible.

[the-zk-directory]

Has the Zutara fandom ever analyzed this (x) interview with Aaron Ehasz? ‘Cause I really think we should...

I think it’s the only time he’s ever directly addressed Zutara publicly. And, of course, he doesn’t say much, and certainly doesn’t confirm the rumours -- but I still find this video incredibly interesting, especially within the context of said rumours.

Girl (Ingrid): “Okay so, if you could change one thing in the legend of Aang, what would it be?”

^^Starting off with an interesting exchange because she knows what she’s really asking

^^And he knows what she’s really asking.

AE: Y’know, I’m, *stutters* --- It’s hard, because I’m happy with how it turned out…

                                                           ----x----

AE: I’ll tell you the one thing that comes to mind…

                                                          ----x----

AE: …which is not what you’re expecting and it’s a little bit… petty *proceeds to go into something else which, while interesting, is not at all related to shipping*

                                                          ----x----

AE: I don’t know, that’s probably not the best answer you were hoping for but uhhh… MAYBE that’s the thing that I would change…

                                                          ----x----

AE: but, I respect the choices that the directors made and that Mike and Bryan made, y’know – probably good reasons.

“I respect the choices Mike & Bryan made” does not sound to me like someone who always agreed with the choices Mike & Bryan made.

So, he successfully deflects away from talking about shipping. But then he gets a little bold:

AE: What were you hoping I was going to say, Ingrid? *jump cut* What would you change?

Ingrid: Are you sure you want to know this? Are you sure?

AE: You can tell me. You can trust me. You can tell me. I wanna hear it.

Seems he really wants to hear it. Hmm, why would a writer, who, ~potentially~ had quite a few arguments with the creators of a show in which he advised them about a certain topic (advice which would have evidently been ignored), and who seems ~potentially~ unwilling to speak about the topic directly (but ~potentially~ still harbors a bit of frustration about the whole thing)… be so eager to hear an audience member’s public opinion on said topic?

(Especially when said opinion ~potentially~ validates his side of the ~potential~ argument?)

Just a hypothetical.

Ingrid: I would like Zuko and Katara to be together…

AE: *nods*

Ingrid: [...] because, that scene, where she almost uses the water from the oasis to heal his scar it was, like, so much tension…

AE: …yeahhh

Ingrid: And they seemed like, so in love…

AE: yeah

                                                          ----x----

*jump cut* (I believe)

AE: I will say, I’ve seen some “fake” interviews with me online from time to time in which… I’ve seen fake interviews with me where – where it was not actually me

“fake”

This is interesting; I actually only noticed this as I was working on making this post. Why does he put air quotes around ‘fake’?

Definition of air quotes from idioms.thefreedictionary.com:

A hand gesture done when speaking to draw attention to a particular statement or indicate that it was someone else's words or that one is skeptical or critical of its use (similar to scare quotes in print media). Air quotes are made by curling the index and middle fingers of both hands at the same time in order to mimic the shape of quotation marks.

AE: *proceeds to wheedle out of giving an answer one way or another on ZK vs. KA by just saying that he lets the characters guide him, blah, blah, blah.*

No one brought up the rumours either. He brought them up himself, only showing that he’s well aware of them, but doesn’t want anyone to mistake what was written in that “fake” interview (this one (x)) as something he’s said publicly.

                                                         ----x----

AE: Like the question: Are you Zutara? *jump cut* I try not to root for ships because… I have to stay open minded to what the characters are gonna tell me and what -- what it’s going to tell me and the other writers. So, we try to follow them through on their stories and figure out what’s happening and pay attention to like, the signals that the characters are giving us, and then be open to the natural thing happening right.

I mean, sure, this is what a good writer’s supposed to do.

But like, clearly, as the show was coming to a close, there must have been a pairing that he felt was the more natural thing, right? Which one was that? Did Kataang feel like “the natural thing” to him???

He doesn’t tell us. And if he did feel the canon pairing was a natural ending, I don’t know why he wouldn’t just say that.

If it was a non-canon pairing that felt more natural to him though, well…

(“I respect the choices […] Mike and Bryan made, y’know – probably good reasons.”)

AE: So, if I rooted for it, I would contrive something, and it would feel contrived.

Cue Mike and Bryan (technically just Mike): “we always had a soft spot in our hearts for ‘Kataang.’” (x)

                                                           ----x----

*jump cut*

Last note: I really want to know what was said right before this.

(‘Cause if I was Ingrid, I would have pressed him for a real answer and then just agreed to not put it in the video.)

She’s laughing too. I JUST WANNA KNOW.

[dalyntha]

Why is it always like, “well, you can just get back on the horse you rode in on”? Why didn’t we keep updating this saying, not only for accuracy but because it’s far more hilarious.

“Listen, Mister, I don’t know who you think you are, but you can just get right back into that carriage that you rolled up in on, and go right back to the grisly streets of London, where you came from!!”

“Hey is there a problem here? Because you know, you could just climb right back into that big rig cabin that you drove in on, and trucker your little ass right back to Cincinnati!. I dont care if you have sixteen wheels and a bed in the back!”

“Ahem!! Listen, people, if there’s going to be an issue, you all can just climb right back into the clown car that you and your fifteen coworkers came in on, and take your creepy job back to the circus, I’m sure they have noticed their fifteen weird ass clowns are gone “

“John, I told you once, and I’m not going to say it again. I don’t like you disrespecting my wife, so you can just climb right back onto that unicycle and meander away back to your own crappy marriage”

“UH UH, I don’t think so—you can’t be dipping your toes into the river Styx while I’m crossing l it. You people can’t even hold it together while I get you to the frickin afterlife. I can just turn this thing around and you can get right back onto the funeral pyre you came in on, and here’s your stupid eye coins, this currency does nothing here, ugh.*i hate this job, I can’t believe I didn’t finish trade school, ugh *

“Mindy, you are a liar and a cheat! I think you should just tie your lying feet right back into the roller skates that you rolled in on before you stole my boyfriend, and just keep on going till you get back to the trailer park!”

“Well, good sir, I’m of good stock, I nearly perished during the long journey here, but I persisted. You, however, should just get right back on the Mayflower, and have them take you back to England where you belong. I hope you catch your death of scurvy!”

“Amelia, I know you just got back, I mean we were looking for you FOREVER, but if you’re going to be a snarky bitch because (mimics Amelia) I can fly a plane and you casaaant…..! Then you can just fly back to the Bermuda Triangle and get lost again”

“And then I was like, ha, look grandma—you may not make me pay rent, and you may let me sit on the furniture without the plastic covers on them, but honestly if you think I’ll just stand around and take it while you make fun of my gaming schedule, you can crawl over to your electric wheelchair, hoist your wrinkly shit into the seat, and just leave. I’ll open the front door even, and then I can play World of Warcraft any time i damn well please. My girlfriend is on there, she lives in Abu Dhabi—but she’d love to see Iowa in the spring”

“One small step for man, one—-oh hell, wtf? JIM I SAID I GET THE FIRST WALK! I had my special phrase all ready to go and you just come out here in the middle of it, all giggly, floating around like this is a damn game! This is serious! Grr, just get back into the stupid space ship we came here in and go back to earth. Maybe if you leave me here I can finally get some peace, if it’s not you people it’s the wife, nagnagnag!”

“Lucinda. Did you seriously take my last newts eye and toad spit? How the hell am I suppose to reanimate a corpse if you’re off taking my important ingredients to make love potions to give your dumb friends?! Here’s your broomstick, straddle that stick, will ya, and let it magic you back to your apprenticeship, because you never should have passed!”

“Omg. No one is getting along, there’s just blood and chaos every where. Is this war even worth it? Over a woman!!?? Helen can’t be that great! *man nearby overhears* HEY DID YOU JUST SAY HELEN ISN’T THAT GREAT?! bro, get your friends, load up into that wooden horse you came inside of, and stop blaspheming Helen!”

“Donkey! Fiona just told me you said she needs to go on a diet? Ogres don’t diet, you idiot! Just climb back onto your dragon wife and have her return you to your terrible family, it’s not my fault they left you and the sheep took you in, leaving you with no donkey friends and trauma you deal with by making jokes! Jokes that now have my wife breathing fire up my green ass hotter than ANY dragons breath! This time when you are getting a lift try not to impregnate her again, you have like eight donkey dragon babies already and they’re a terrible example for Fergus, farkle and Felicia!”

“I thought you were going to propose, you know… the romantic ride here, the picnic on the grass, us dating for ten years…. But if you’re just going to tell me you’re not ready yet, you can climb back into that hot air balloon basket and let the thing take you back to your dumb Subaru. I can not believe it was a five hour ride here and I thought I was at LEAST going to end up with a decent rock on my hand!”

“Yay you’re here! I’m glad your mom brought you to the playground! You what? You want to play with ben instead? But I waited all week!!!! I’m going to tell Ben you pooped under the slide, so you can just get back into the little red wagon that your mom pulled a mile to get you here, you big meanie!”

[petrikaira]

The Maid

The Offer, chapter 4 (Previous)

Rating: G for General audiences

Tw: implied financial abuse, tw: curse words

“A copper a day?!” Micah shrieked as she ripped the parchment from Mama and Papa’s hands.

Retha blew a strand of hair out of her eyes, the smell of the fire filling the room with the pungent odor of smoke. “Don’t rip it,” she chided her little sister. “Yes, a copper a day.”

“Do you know all the cute clothes I could buy? We could buy new things for the kitchen, too, make it all cute, maybe with some of the pretty delftware!” Micah cried, looking up.

“You think I’d let you use my money for all that?” Retha replied flatly. “I’m not gettin a maid job to fund your closet.”

Micah loved new clothes, new make-up, and remodeling the house as often as she could. She always had. As klds, their parents had encouraged them to make new wall paint with eggs they couldn’t use. Micah had always been the one to paint her room in them every couple of months. Right now the paint on her last project, a group of lilies around her baseboard, was beginning to chip. It was the longest she had had any particular painting in her room to date and Retha suspected her little sister was actually itching to change it. 

“You’re really going to leave your family high and dry like that?” Micah shot back, lips pinched together and dark brown eyes shooting fire. “You know we only get a copper a week from Mama and Papa, you think they’re getting this kinda money here in this rinkydink little island town?”

“I’m not leaving anyone high and dry!” Retha spat back, standing up from her seat. “You think I’ll be sending you money regularly just for your dresses and things? Maybe sometimes! But if I’m sending money back it’s going to Mama and Papa primarily-”

“Oh! Selfish! You’re so selfish, you think that just because I’m your little sister I don’t deserve to have nice things?” Micah yelled, shaking the parchment at Retha violently. 

“That’s not it at all! I think if you want nice things more often you should get a job-”

“I’m going to be taking your job, bitch!”

“Yeah! You are, you’d better save up-” Retha said back. “With all that extra-”

“They’re not going to give me extra! Still gonna be a copper a week, you know-”

“GIRLS!” Mama’s voice broke through the din with a creak of her chair as she stood up. “You two quiet down, right now, and you two listen to me.”

Retha clamped her mouth shut, and across the room Micah did too, both glancing between themselves and their mother. Their Papa sat in his chair, minding his business, and Braam turned to hurriedly stare away from them into the fire, pretending as they usually did that nothing was wrong. 

Mama rounded on Retha first, snatching the offer from Micah’s hands. “Retha, you’re the older sister, you’ll be sending your money back for Micah too, now and then. You can’t deny her good things when you’re gonna be havin enough to pay for an entire weekly wardrobe!”

Retha pressed her lips together. The look in Mama’s eyes said she’d strike if Retha so much as argued. It was her money. She would be sending back what she felt was right, only now and then to Micah as a treat. You didn’t leave the family out to dry.

“And you’ll be sending that back monthly, won’t you, for your Mama and Papa too?” Mama said suddenly. “We could get that new chicken fence we always wanted, pay for that spot on the ships- maybe I could get a new nice dress now and then too, or maybe we could even get a nice fancy carriage like the Gartner’s have down on their apple farm-”

Retha rolled her eyes and plopped back down in her chair sullenly. “Mama, I’m not-”

“You’re not?” Mama turned, offering pointed straight at her. “You’re not being selfish like your sister said, now are you?”

Papa stoutly looked away. He would be no help, here. Retha’s eyes strayed to Braam, but he was staring deep into the depths of the fire like he couldn’t hear them. 

“No, Mama,” Retha said flatly.

“Good, now you’ll be sending something back monthly. Let me go get you a quill so you can sign this.”

Mama hustled off, leaving the crackle of the fire and the uneasy silence hanging in the room, as she usually did. Mama often called the financial shots, which sometimes meant frivolous things. Mama was where Micah got it, though Mama’s frivolities were more on the business side of things and Micah’s nice dresses.

Across the room, Micah stuck her tongue out at Retha. Retha wrinkled her nose and rolled her eyes. There was a clatter of the drawer by the finance books. A rustle of skirts. Mama came back.

“Here, now, you go ahead and sign and you’ll be taking it to them in the morning,” Mama said. A quill pen and ink pot held aloft in her hands. 

Retha hesitated. There was a sour taste in her mouth. There was always a sour taste in her mouth over things like this, like when she had gotten a new cotton dress from their grandmother when she was younger that was embroidered with the prettiest daffodils and her sister stole it, and when she had complained to her Mama about it, she had been called selfish and told to just share with her sister. It was the type of thing that never happened to Braam because he was older, and a boy. 

Yet, beneath the sour taste in her mouth, the excitement still ran through her blood. Maybe even higher. If she signed, she could have breathing space without that, every day, constantly. She snatched up the quill pen and the ink, and dipped it in, and with a flourish, signed her name right at the bottom.

“There you go, good girl,” Mama said, and took the parchment from her. 

She bustled off across the room once more, while the good girl scowled at the way her mother treated her. Retha watched as her mother lay the parchment out to dry. And, for a moment, she waited.

She half expected something to happen, something wonderful magical that would whisk her away. It didn’t.

She supposed she would have to do this the human way, tomorrow, and bring the parchment with her back to the Barman’s keep. Maybe that was the proper way the prince prided himself on, the way he was using to try to make his new wife proud.

Still, she couldn’t help but be disappointed.

[neocityjs]

Clingy - LJN

Pairing: boyfriend!jeno x reader

Genre: a lil angst, fluff

Warnings: established relationship, Haechan is a bit annoying in this one I’m sorry (Haechan best boy)

Words: 3k

Summary: hurt after hearing your boyfriend and his friends calling you clingy, you decide to show them how not clingy you can be.

A/N: everything is fictional, including the characters’ traits. English is not my first language, therefore I’m sorry for the errors.

Movie nights with your friends were your favorites.

Well, it’d be more correct for me to say “with your boyfriend’s friends”, since you didn’t know them before meeting Jeno. But that doesn’t matter, because in no time you managed to bond with everyone, especially the clumsy yet adorable kid, Jisung, and the loving caffeine addicted boy, Jaemin.

Movie nights with your friends consisted in you eight – even though today you were only seven since Mark was out with some of his friends – sprawled on one couch –  don’t ask me how, but all of you always manage to fit in since no one wants to sit on the carpet – with a blanket covering you and some snacks passing between. Those represented some of those moments you swear you would cherish for all your life.

Tonight seemed to be no different. Jeno had come picking you up at 7 p.m., you spent some time together, walking around, talking and giggling like usual, and you dropped at his house where other five – well, four boys (Jaemin lost to rock paper scissors so he had to go shopping for snacks) – were waiting for the both of you. Donghyuck always got to choose the movie you would watch, not without complaints from every one of you, yet at the end you’d always like what he picks, but Donghyuck doesn’t need to know that.

And there you were, all sprawled on the couch – though not in a very comfortable position –. You had already seen the movie which was playing loudly on the TV, hence you decided to pay more attention to your boyfriend instead. You were all cuddled up with him: he was hugging you, stroking your back from time to time. Your head was on his shoulder while your hand rested on his chest. Sometimes you couldn’t help but leave a furtive and quick kiss on his jaw, praying no one would notice you. He’d smile at you – gosh his eye smile UWU – and then he’d hug you closer.

About one hour after the movie’s beginning, you felt some physical needs pressing, so you quickly excused yourself and got up from the couch.

“Should I pause it?” Renjun asked, the remote already between his hands.

“No, don’t worry. I’ve already seen it anyway”

You made your way to the bathroom only to find out that the toilet paper was missing.

You sighed. Boys.

So you went back to the living room, where everyone was gathered.

You were about to open your mouth to ask where they kept the spare paper but something odd caught your ear. You backed up, hiding behind the wall. You obviously knew that eavesdropping was not by any means honest, especially if it was a conversation between your best friends. But you were almost certain that they were talking about you, your name dropping from one of the boys’ mouth.

“Enjoy being free while you can” Donghyuck joked with Jeno. You furrowed your brows.

What was that supposed to mean? You peeked your head cautiously, not wanting to be seen.

“You’re just jealous you don’t have a girlfriend” Jisung laughed at him, to which the boy responded with a sharp stare.

“Seriously, Jisung? When you haven’t even had your first kiss?”

“Ya ya ya! Shut up and don’t fight you two” Jaemin intervened, throwing a popcorn at them.

A brief moment of silence followed. You still didn’t understand what they were talking about.

“She’s just affectionate, that’s all” Jeno finally spoke, at which you held your breath.

So they were talking about you being clingy with your boyfriend. And this response from Jeno meant that he didn’t mind it, right? Or else he would have agreed with the boy. The thing is, you never thought about it: you supposed that a little kiss every now and then was a way to show your love and affection to him, plus he never complained about it, or never backed away.

“I know, but don’t tell me you don’t find this suffocating sometimes” Donghyuck continued.

Okay, now he was seriously getting on your nerves. What the heck did he care if you were clingy with your boyfriend? This was something between you and Jeno, and he wasn’t allowed to interfere with it, especially in front of everyone in the room. You thought he was making fun of you by now.

At this point you expected something to come out of Jeno’s mouth, anything that could have proven Donghyuck wrong, but he said nothing.

And silence means consent.

How did you know this? Well, Jeno wasn’t one to back out from speaking his opinion, especially with his friends. Especially with Donghyuck, for God’s sake, this guy was constantly bickering – though not with malicious intentions – with everyone.

“We shouldn’t talk behind her back like this” affirmed Jaemin with a severe stare. Jeno looked down: you didn’t know it but he was feeling suddenly guilty, agreeing with Jaemin. Everyone then went silent, the only sounds that could be heard being the dialogues in the movie.

You pressed your back against the wall, processing what you just heard.

Why didn’t he ever tell you? Why did he act like he loved it while, actually, he hated it? Then you thought about every time you held his hand in public, or hugged him, or kissed him, and then your thoughts went to five minutes before, when you were hugging him on the couch. You started feeling sorry.

Maybe after all it’s true, and he didn’t tell me anything because he didn’t want to hurt me.

But well, now it hurt twice as much since you weren’t aware of what your friends and your own boyfriend thought about you. Maybe every one of them, except for Jeno obviously, thanked God they hadn’t a girlfriend like you, who was suffocating and clingy.

And it was at this moment that your guilt turned into anger.

You just wanted to show all your affection and care to your boyfriend who you loved with all your heart, but apparently you were only bothering him. And Donghyuck - oh Donghyuck – you were so angry at him right now. What was the point in making fun of you in front of everyone when you weren’t even there? At the same time, you took a mental note to thank Jisung and Jaemin, the only two people who stood to defend you.

Okay, tonight you were proving everyone how not clingy you could be. Indeed, you were going to interact the least possible with Jeno. He wanted space? Good, you were giving him tons of it.

You eventually went to the toilet using one of your tissues since you were not asking any of them where the hell was the toilet paper, you washed your hands and went back to the couch.

But this time you didn’t hug Jeno. You simply forced a smile and sat next to him with your arms crossed. You tried not to be too obvious, you still didn’t want them to know that you heard everything, but you were sure your face was saying otherwise, and the confirmation arrived when Jeno asked you “Is everything ok?” full of concern.

You just called me clingy and let Donghyuck make fun of me. Yes, everything’s amazing.

“Yes, of course. Why?” you replied, using all of your acting skills in the process which, by the way, were very poor. But apparently they worked, because Jeno smiled at you and shook his head. “Nothing”.

But if you were successful at lying to him right now, then by the end of the movie he understood that something was wrong. You were avoiding all of his attempts of skin ship because “it was too hot”, but then you were grasping at the blanket like there’s no tomorrow. You were also laughing at everything remotely funny that came out of Jaemin’s mouth while you simply ignored all of Jeno’s attempts of making you laugh. Hell, you didn’t even argue with Donghyuck when he murmured something about Jeno being the most unfunny guy he ever met. Oh and you were playing and laughing with Jisung who was sitting next to you.

In short, you were avoiding him.

But he decided to shrug these thoughts away. Maybe he was being paranoid, he thought: you were just enjoying your friends’ company, plus it wasn’t written anywhere that you were allowed to talk and give attentions only to him.

Little did he know, this was just what you were trying to do: shower everyone with attentions except him.

Eventually the movie came to an end, and while everyone was pronouncing their goodnights and heading to sleep, you just remained there, with your phone between your hands, scrolling mindlessly on your Instagram feed.

Usually you and Jeno would have gone to bed together, sharing your thoughts about the movie you just watched, or simply talking about everything and nothing at the same time. But not today. He wanted space? You were giving him space.

Jeno already stood up to make his departure, but soon noticed you weren’t following him like you always did. “Are you coming?” he asked you, stopping on his tracks.

“I’ll just reply to a few messages and then I’ll go to sleep too. Don’t wait for me, you can go”

“Y/N are you sure everything’s okay? You’ve been acting quite weird. Are you alright? Did something happen?”

“Of course not, Jeno. Nothing happened” you replied rather coldly. Then you sighed. “I’m good, don’t worry for me” you added, softly this time. Although you believed he deserved it, you didn’t want to be too rude to him.

He nodded, and without saying anything more, he left.

At this point you started feeling a tiny bit guilty, still you couldn’t simply pretend nothing happened: their words hurt you and even if you really wished to just forget everything, you couldn’t. You just couldn’t, it was stronger than you.

By the way, you had no intention of sleeping with Jeno tonight, so you grabbed the blanket all of you once shared when watching the movie, and struggled a little bit to find a comfortable position. Eventually, after some tears escaped from your eyes, you drifted into a restless sleep.

It took a couple of hours for Jeno to realize you were not in bed with him.

He just fell asleep, a part of him believing that later you would have joined him. But when he woke up, he immediately sensed that something was off. Still sleepy, he touched the other side of the bed only to find it empty, and immediately stood up. It was 3 A.M, why weren’t you sleeping? What the heck were you doing? Did someone kidnap you? At this point he was surprised of how paranoid he could be.

His thoughts came to an end when he saw you, on the couch, with a blanket shielding you from the cold, all curled up. He didn’t see the dried tears that stained your face, though.

Sitting slowly beside you, not wanting to scare you, he gently shook you, not sure himself if it was the right thing to do. He was just so confused, he genuinely didn’t have any idea of what was happening. But he knew one thing for sure: you had been acting cold with him and he wouldn’t had moved until you confessed what was going on. Was it something he said or did? Was today your anniversary or something and he forgot it? Poor boy absolutely couldn’t find peace unless he knew what he did.

Soon you opened your eyes, still heavy from the – lack of – sleep.

“Hey” he murmured softly.

You considered pretending to sleep but nah, as I said earlier, you weren’t a good actress.

“Hey” you replied, stretching your limbs a little bit.

“I got worried since you weren’t sleeping next to me” he chuckled awkwardly. Sure thing, he didn’t know how to handle this situation since this was the first time you were acting like this.

“I… umm… I just fell asleep here” you replied looking at your hands, which you were scratching due to the nervousness.

Another lie.

Then silence.

“Y/N look at me” his voice suddenly changed, turning colder.

You swallowed, a knot forming again in your throat, as you forced back the tears that were trying to escape. You didn’t want to give in so soon.

But how could you, when he was getting angry at you? You should have been angry, not the opposite. And you know what? He was right, you were taking it too far. He didn’t deserve this. Look at how nice he tried to be all night, you managed to anger a calm and patient man like him. How stupid could you be at this point?

With a quivering lip you turned your head, facing him. He was watching you intently, with a serious frown on his face. Your grip on the blanket got tighter, almost ripping it with your nails.

You stayed silent. Then he spoke.

“Why are you being like this?”

You swallowed. What should you say? Were you even allowed to say anything at this point?

You tried to open your mouth to say something, but as soon as you tried your eyes were filled with tears, rapidly falling on your skin. You just couldn’t take it anymore, so you just faced away and buried your face in the pillow, trying to muffle your sobs. You didn’t want to look so pathetic in his eyes, although by now you thought you were being beyond pathetic.

If earlier there was any anger in Jeno, now every hint of it dissipated at the sight of you crying, curled up on the couch. He suddenly felt guilt taking over him. But the amount of confusion and frustration was bigger, so, as much as it pained him to see you cry because of him, this didn’t prevent him from trying to find out what had gotten into you. He was honestly so tired, he just wanted to sleep with you on his side.

He gently, almost scared, touched your trembling frame, and when he noticed there was no sign of rebellion from you, he lied down and hugged you tightly from behind.

And you kept on crying silently, a loud sob escaping occasionally, as he murmured sweet nothings into your ears, shushing you gently and telling you that everything’s fine, I’m here with you. Just let it out.

When you finally finished crying, he placed a soft kiss on your neck, then another on your wet cheek.

“Wanna talk about it?”

There was no point in lying by now. So you faced him, face full of concern and arms still tightly secured around you. And you just let out everything, from how you overheard their conversation – including how sorry you were for doing it and promising it would never happen again -, to how you were hurt by Donghyuck’s words but mostly by Jeno’s lack of words.

On the other hand, poor Jeno didn’t have any idea this could have affected you so much, and because of this he didn’t even think this could have been the cause of your sudden behavior. He just listened everything silently, surprised, just like a kid to whom the newest things are explained.

“I just got so angry at you for not defending me, and for letting Hyuck make fun of me. So I wanted to distance myself from you as much as possible to have my revenge” you openly confessed, hiding your face in his chest.

“I’m really sorry I took this so far. I should have talked instead” you add.

“Well, that’s true” Jeno replied, “but I can’t say I’m in the right either. First thing, we shouldn’t have talked about you like that, plus I’m really sorry I didn’t say anything to Hyuck, I understand this hurt you a lot”

“But do you really think I’m that clingy? Because if so, all you have to do is say the word and I’ll try to respect you space more” you asked, looking up at him with watery eyes.

And if your ears were sharp enough, you could have heard the sound of Jeno’s heart shattering.

Now he was the one who was on the verge of tears.

“Y/N please don’t ever say such a thing. You don’t have to change anything about yourself. I love you because you are you, including your touchy and loving nature. Besides, don’t look at me this way or I’m seriously gonna cry” he added whining, causing a smile – a real one – to appear on your face.

“Now it’s a lot better” he affirmed, tracing your curled up lips with his thumb.

“Can I kiss you or you’re still mad at me?” he asked.

“I don’t know, I was thinking about making you suffer a little more” you joked.

“Oh my God, you’re unbelievable”

“I think so too”

He raised an eyebrow. “Maybe I should kiss that annoying attitude of yours away”

“I don’t know, should you?”

“I’ll take that as a yes”

And with that he kissed you, the fight of moments ago long forgotten. A slow and gentle kiss, a mixture of emotions being shown: remorse, love, affection. It was a way for the both of you to say “it’s all in the past now”.

After you parted, one thought snapped in his mind.

“Wait, how will you manage the matter with Donghyuck? I can talk to him if you want” he pointed out, concerned. He perfectly understood if you were angry at the boy in question, but he also wished all of you to be as bonded as a big family, his family.

“There’s no need, I’ll just confront him by myself, beat him up until he asks for forgiveness and then forgive and hug him”

Jeno looked at you, almost scared. “What…?”

“Just kidding” you said, laughing at his funny face. Still hugging, you made yourselves comfortable enough to sleep.

“Or maybe not”

[winterstarqueen]

Can you write a story the reader been ignoring Sora for while and Sora upset that he thinks he did something wrong but it turns out the reader lost a love one and just wanted to be alone for while

Healing your heart. (Sora x female reader.)

Lately you haven’t been yourself. After training you would go back to your room and stay there for hours. This made Aqua worry about you. She sighed. “Maybe she misses Sora.” She said frowning. “That has to be it. After all he’s been busy lately and he just came back home.” Ven said. You locked your door and put your hood up. Suddenly your phone rang. It was Sora. “Sora?” You asked looking at the screen. “I’m sorry. But, I can’t talk to you right now.” You whispered putting your phone in your nightstand drawer. Meanwhile,Sora was looking at his phone. You usually answered. He would do most of the talking. Because you’re shy. “That’s weird.” Sora said frowning. “What?” Riku asked. “(Y/n) usually answers her phone when I call.” Sora said. “She’s probably busy.” Kairi suggested. “I think I’ll try later.” Sora said frowning. He really wanted to talk to you. It’s been so long since he last saw you. He didn’t want to waste time anymore. Sora wanted you to come with him and see other places. He kept this to himself ever since he began having this crush on you.

Later that night he tried again and nothing. “Is she sad?” Sora asked. He had been paying a ton of attention to Kairi. This was because the master told him and Riku to take Kairi with them. This mission was important. “(Y/n) please call me back.” Sora said frowning. He didn’t want to lose you. Sora looked at his phone and sighed. “I’m going to land of departure tomorrow.” He was going to see what the matter was. The next morning he came. You were going to your room as usual. But,you noticed Sora was here. You blushed. He looked so different from when you last saw him. “I can’t let him see me not like this.” You said sighing. Your eyes were red from crying and you hadn’t slept at all. Your sister tried to talk to you. But,you just wanted to be alone. You heard a knock on your door. “(Y/n)? It’s me Sora. Aqua made lunch for you. It’s your favorite.” He said. “J-Just leave it there.” You said trying not to sound upset. “Okay.” He said.

Sora didn’t know what to do. You were avoiding everyone mostly him. At least you would go out and train with your friends. “Did I do something wrong? The master has been keeping me busy lately.” Sora asked. “I don’t know. (Y/n) won’t tell me what’s wrong.” Aqua said. You eventually came out of your room. “(Y/n)?” “The master wants Sora and I to go to Traverse Town.” You said. Before you knew it you were in the gumi ship with Sora and he didn’t like the silence. “(Y/n)? Are you okay? You haven’t answered my calls or texts and you don’t talk to your friends.” He asked. “I’m okay.” You said. “But,you’re not. You’re avoiding everyone. Even me. Normally you would be the first one to greet me when I visit.” “I’m sorry.” You said. “I just want to know what’s wrong.” Sora said. “Nothing. I just wanted to be alone for a while.” You said. “Okay. I understand that you want space. It’s just…it seems like it’s more then that.” Sora then stopped the ship and turned to you. You didn’t want to tell him. Not now. “I don’t want to talk about it.” You said looking away. “You don’t have to. I just want to know is it me? Did I do something to hurt you?” He said looking concerned. “No.” “Good. I don’t want to hurt you. You’re special.” He said. You turned your head in a cute way. “I am?” You asked. “Yeah. Come on we have to finish.” He said. “Right.” You said.

As you were walking around in second district you stopped in front of a restaurant It was empty. You remembered how lively it looked when it was open. “I guess that their kids didn’t take over..” You thought looking down. You were a regular at the place. The elderly couple who ran it were so nice. Sometimes they would give you a free chocolate lava cake. They were like the grandparents to you. “I miss them.” You whispered to yourself. “Hey. Are you okay?” Sora asked. “Yeah. Let’s continue on.” You said. Only Sora stopped you. “Huh.” “You’re crying. Come here.” He said hugging you. “I’m sorry. I’ve been avoiding everyone…” You said. Sora brought you to a bench and sat next to you. You told him everything. “I miss them so much. Aqua and I were on our own. I don’t remember our grandparents or family.” You said frowning. “So,they treated you like a granddaughter?” Sora asked. You nodded. “Yeah and sometimes I would help with cleaning the restaurant. But,they got into an accident and I couldn’t believe it.” You said with tears. Sora put his hand over yours and gave it a squeeze. “I’m sorry.” “It isn’t your fault.” You said frowning. “Let’s bring you back home. I’ll call the others and one of them can get the supplies. Okay.” Sora suggested. You thought for a minute. Maybe you needed rest. You nodded.

When you got back no one was there. “I guess that they’re on a mission.” Sora said. You slowly nodded and went to your room. “I’ll go get you a snack. Okay.” He said. You sat on your bed. The you remembered that all of your childhood toys were still in here. You didn’t have time to redecorate. When Sora went missing you were helping the Twilight Town gang. You could feel the blush on your face. “I got you a pudding cup.” Sora said smiling. He even added whipped cream and a Kit Kat. You sighed. Because you were embarrassed by your room. You thought that Sora would tease you or laugh. But, he didn’t. He just handed you your pudding cup. You took it. “T-Thank you.” You said. “No problem.” Sora said smiling. You enjoyed the treat. “Are you feeling better?” He asked sitting next to you. “A little.” “Come here.” He said giving you a hug. You blushed. “Do you want to watch a movie?” He asked. You nodded. He went over to your shelf. Only you fell asleep. “What do you want to watch?” He asked before seeing you fast sleep. “I’ll come back tomorrow and help cheer you up.” He whispered before leaving. Sora hoped that you would cheer up soon. After all he had been thinking of asking you out. Also what would your sister think? After all she sometimes treats you like a kid. Maybe she thinks that you’re not ready for him. One thing is for sure is that Sora wasn’t going to forget about you.

[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.