#this tag for my personal stuff is less funny now that i don’t write like i’m running out of time

[rius-cave]

It’s a bit strange that you only added “pro shipper” to your bio after someone felt uncomfortable that they spent money on your rape fetish comic without realizing that’s what it was (after which you literally blamed them for not assuming it was, despite no content warnings being anywhere, which was the only thing they wanted when they messaged you anyway)

You also only added it on Twitter, not here… I assume because you know Tumblr doesn’t like that. If you’re going to be in a community known for enabling abuse and pedophilia by allowing real abusers to go undetected in your circles because you all think fantasizing about abuse is normal, at least make it public everywhere. People deserve to know who they are talking to, especially since these are such touchy subjects.

Literally anyone you know who are into these things could be for real about it and you would never know unless you were too. There is no excuse for wanting to be part of any community that allows that to happen, and I don’t find it fair that people are being mocked with “respect your own DNI” as if that was the problem. They would have followed their DNI if they had known it applied to you… what they asked you for was putting a rape warning on StOP. Which you still didn’t do

I know a lot of proshippers are victims. But a lot of others are too, and we don’t appreciate being thrown under the bus in the name of “fighting purity culture” as if it’s the same as being anti-kink.

Anon I don't know if you're my ex-patreon supporter or if you're a friend of theirs or what, but it's funny to me that they kept saying they didn't want to start any trouble with me and then this happens lol ok I guess.

You also failed to mention I refunded all the money they gave to my Patreon and apologized for the confusion, I don't know how else I should apologize to them, if you or they want me to stop drawing StOP, that's not gonna happen 🤷 I've said everywhere, multiple times, that StOP is a fuck or die comic, whether you want to take that as dubcon or noncon or not is up to you. The way I write is not really that way because all parties are VERY MUCH into it by the time they start doing anything, but I am AWARE that I can't call it completely consensual just by the nature of the fuck or die scenario. Maybe this person just wasn't aware that fuck or die = noncon, that is.... Not really my fault, it literally comes with that label, I'm sorry :/

Also, my bio has ALWAYS said I'm proship lol I don't know what you're going on about.

It's not a thing I have on my Tumblr bio because before Hazbin, I didn't post any of that stuff to *this* Tumblr, now I've stopped giving a shit but just didn't think to add it to my bio because idk *shrugs* I didn't care that much. You want me to add the proship label here too? I will, I have no issue with it, I am not trying to hide and it's not because "Tumblr doesn't like that" I couldn't care less lolol.

And my friend, sighs, anti circles are known for having more real predators than proship circles. I can't even begin to tell you how many teenagers were groomed in anti circles because they thought it was a """safe space""" while adults in proship spaces literally want nothing to do with minors. I am open about who I am and what I like, I am not afraid to say it because I am not ashamed even if I get people like you in my inbox lmao

My tag of "respect your own DNI" is because people will think proshippers are gross and want nothing to do with them but they'll... Still be the first people to talk to you once they find out.... You're proving my point right now lmao

[ssruis]

Re: “don’t people make fun of Tsukasa. Even a little bit”

I’m also guilty of forgetting that tsukasa is generally pretty well liked regardless of his freak behavior and obnoxious personality. However. KAITO comments on his natural charisma in his Kamiyama Fes story:

And bear in mind, this is when he’s directing a play with his classmates as actors so he’s in his True Freak Element.

In Tsukasa’s Kamiyama Fes card story he shows them Romeo Battle Royale which they all think is Dumb As Hell (fair), but they also think it’s funny & that this is deliberate. They’re not laughing *at* him or mocking him, they’re assuming - incorrectly but he does not gaf - that they’re laughing with him.

& later on in the card story you, even though they thought he was a weirdo initially, they had fun under his direction and even compliment him.

Which is kind of a running theme with a lot of his interactions with new people. “This guy is an egotistical weirdo” -> “This guy is an egotistical weirdo but he’s also genuinely nice and a decent guy” -> “He’s a freak but he is also my friend & I have fun with him.” & this has been true from a young age, as you can see in Pandemonium:

Tsukasa: When I first proposed the idea, everyone booed me for not choosing between tag or hide and seek and rattling on about this "show" business...

Tsukasa: However, after I began performing, they quickly followed suit. Through my show, we all had a chance to play both games!

Tsukasa *is* self centered, and he does have a high opinion of himself, but he’s not interested in putting other people down to make himself feel better. In fact, he also has a pretty high opinion of others and isn’t shy about making that known, which contributes to his likability.

(Outside of the main WxS story. Him yelling at Nene there was more out of frustration towards himself and the failed show, but that’s a different and lengthy discussion I don’t wanna get into here. It is important to keep in mind that he definitely became less “I’m the only one who matters here” and more “I’m great but so are other people” after it, though.)

You can see more clear examples of this in Nene’s earlier card stories as her opinion of him shifts to be more positive. From her initial 2*:

Nene: Rui has taken Robo-Nene for upgrades...

Nene: And once they're complete, I'd like to perform together with her.

Nene: (Tsukasa will probably shoot down my suggestion because he wouldn't want Robo-Nene to steal his spotlight.)

Tsukasa: Okay, so we'd be using Robo-Nene for our next play. But what sort of performance do you have in mind?

Nene: Huh?

Nene: (That...was a more positive reaction than I was expecting.)

Nene: Well that... That depends on what upgrades Rui is going to give her...

Rui: If I might offer my suggestion, the play could begin with only Robo-Nene on stage...

Emu: Hmm, yeah! That's cool! Let's tumble with this idea!

Tsukasa: It's let's roll with, not tumble!

Tsukasa: Anyhow, I like the novelty of it. You got me on board.

Nene: That's...cool.

And from her Kamiyama Fes card story:

[After Nene gives her idea for their next show’s plot]

Nene: Um... We're really doing this?

Tsukasa: Hey, what's this now? It was your own suggestion!

Tsukasa: Okay, we've got the basics down. Now to hammer out the details!

Nene: (Th-They're really going with my suggestion...)

[…]

Nene: (It might be even more fun if you could get different stuff each day or week...)

Tsukasa: Nene, do you have anything you'd like to add?

Nene: Huh?

Tsukasa: Don't be shy. It's your story after all!

Nene: Um... I-I was just about to say something, okay?

[…]

Tsukasa: Nene! I'm going to start writing the script. I need some more input from you.

Nene: Huh? But I already told you everything.

Tsukasa: That couldn't have been everything! This is your chance to make yourself heard and create your very own play. Don't pass it up!

Nene: (What happened to his overblown ego? He's always so pushy about putting what he wants in the script.)

Nene: Fine, I'll see what else I can think of... But you need to contribute too, okay...?

Rui also echos what KAITO said in Kamiyama Fes later in Nene’s Gleaming Stars side story:

& you can see that this is true with how well he gets along with the other people in the workshop in his own Gleaming Stars card story.

In Pandemonium, he also gets along well with his own group in his card story despite being very… himself. And trying to make a star shaped cup on a spinning pottery wheel.

And in the second part of that card story, 1) we learn that he frequently talks with them, and 2) Rui’s group reveals that Tanaka, Yamaguchi, and Fujiwara are all considered popular and cool.

…which is something Tsukasa evidently does not pay attention to or care about. Guy who is immune to the high school social order because he just treats all his peers equally. They’re all future fans friends to him.

From his Kamiyama Fes card again:

I think that even if he notices people laughing at him/thinking he’s bizarre, he views it with this mindset and brushes it off pretty quickly. He’s very confident in himself! He likes himself! Why would he pay attention to any negativity aimed towards something he has no desire to change (his personality)? His loved ones (saki, toya, wxs) all like him just the way he is, so he likes himself just the way he is, and that’s all there is to it.

^ That ofc depends on whether or not he even realizes people aren’t singing his praises. Also from is Kamiyama Fes card story:

Akito & Mizuki are like wow he just said something kinda smart & Tsukasa’s immediate reaction is “they admire me so much I must give them a token of appreciation” (which he also did in Akito’s initial 3 star (?) where he gave Akito & Toya PXL tickets despite Akito pretty clearly not wanting them).

He’s kind of the opposite of Nene, in that Nene enters just about every social interaction going “they’re gonna think I’m so weird what do I even say they don’t want to talk to me at all (spiraling)” & Tsukasa enters every social interaction going “I am so great I bet they’re happy to talk to me (regardless of how they act) and they are enjoying this conversation.” He doesn’t take it seriously when someone like Shiho or Akito are like “🙄 oh great it’s this guy”, and he esp doesn’t take it seriously when wxs poke fun at him.

As readers/viewers who see A Lot of him, it’s pretty easy to go “he is so fucking weird. How do people like him,” but that ignores that most characters find his antics pretty entertaining. Take Mizuki as an example, because even after knowing him for a short period of time she was like “oh this dude is a riot I love it.” As for the characters who found him obnoxious at first, after spending enough time around him to see that he’s a nice guy underneath the ego and attitude, he wins them over (Nene). That, or he earns their respect (Shiho and Akito) which later leads to actual friendship once they’ve built up a tolerance to his personality through repeated exposure.

TLDR:

1) Other characters find Tsukasa funny/entertaining and are able to see that he’s a genuine and kind guy underneath the ego.

2) He’s very extroverted and has zero issues striking up a conversation with literally anyone, whether they’re very popular or someone who doesn’t socialize at all. He treats his peers equally.

2.5) this, coupled with the fact that he’s very friendly, makes people enjoy talking to him and view him as a friend pretty quickly (gesturing at the fact that he still talked to Asahi after Curtain Call and how quickly Bakuno opened up to him).

3) Self confidence will get you everywhere, and he has a lot of that. Some would say too much.

4) Even if someone doesn’t like him very much, he either doesn’t notice or doesn’t give a fuck. People are laughing at him? Well, they’re having a good time and that’s what matters. Denseness + self love is an incredible shield.

Tsukasa is like if you combined a jester/clown with a very extroverted friendly dog. Yes Kamiyama students/fellow actors/his friends/etc think he’s an egotistical weirdo, but he’s THEIR egotistical weirdo, and they (for the most part) enjoy his freak behavior.

[taniks-the-final-shape]

Getting to know your moots

Thank you @baede-6 for tagging me in your post, I have done my best to copy the questions your post had and answered them myself!

What's the origin of your blog's title?

It is the same as my bungo username and the reason for that is simple! Back when Bungie gave players a free name change, I decided it would be funny to name myself this due to the downright stupid amount of times that Taniks (or some form of Taniks, cough cough nightmare Taniks cough cough) has been brought back only for the guardians to get him again.

Favorite Fandoms:

Off the top of my head, I’d have to say Destiny, Transformers, The Dragon Prince, Pixar, Marvel, Star Wars, and damn near everything Andy Weir has written(The Martian, my beloved. Along with Project Hail Mary, currently reading Artemis)

OTP(S) + shipname:

I don’t have any personal oc ships but in terms of Destiny, I. Love. Many of the relationships already in there. Such as Drifteris and Saintsiris.

Favorite Color:

I personally like red, especially when paired with black.

Favorite Game:

I can’t pin it down on any one thing but my most beloved games would have to be Destiny 2, Transformers: Fall of Cybertron, Star Wars: Jedi Survivor, Assassin’s Creed: Revelations (along with Black Flag), and Minecraft!

Song stuck in your head:

At this moment? Burn The House Down by AJR

Weirdest habit/trait:

Mmmmm, maybe softly bonking my friend’s shoulders with my head. No clue why I do it, I just do it because why not

Hobbies:

Besides playing games, watching movies, or listening to music, I enjoy writing Haikus down in a journal that I have (please ask me what Haikus I have I am desperate to share them)

If you could have any job you wish what would it be?

I’ve always wanted to be a video game developer, especially in regards to narrative. That’s mainly due to the fact of what the narrative team at Bungie have created, like how was I supposed to read ‘Hope is a currency. It buys tomorrow. It gives us what we need to survive today.’ And not go insane thinking about it. I’ve always wanted to create something like that for other gamers.

Something you're good at:

Making other people smile.

Something you're bad at:

Getting over procrastination.

Something you excel at:

Being calm under pressure and being that anchor for other people when they’re stressed

Something you love:

See hobbies, I love creating a haiku when any muse strikes!

Something you could talk about for hours without off the cuff:

Easily Destiny 2, I could talk about the lore for hours!

Something you hate:

I could go with broad stuff like a well-known rich person doing a well-known gesture on live television and other people bending over backwards saying that the gesture wasn’t *that* gesture. But besides that, I’d say getting error-coded while in the middle of a raid with friends on Destiny. Yeah that’s something that I’m pretty sure is hated universally.

Something you collect:

Transformers legos! I’ve only recently started it to the point where I only have less than five but I’m happy with what I have so far! I also like to collect Destiny 2 merch. I’ve got some shirts and a jacket right now!

Something you forget:

Hmmm, I think I forgot it.

What's your love language?

I’m a firm believer that everyone needs at least a little bit of each love language. Of course, it varies in volume and from whom you are receiving it from. I think my the biggest one I like getting is physical touch! I love hugs, give me all of the hugs.

Favorite movie/show:

Favorite movie is definitely a tie between Spider-Man: Into The Spider-Verse and Across The Spider-Verse. My favorite show might have to be Young Justice! Either that or Arcane, or Cyberpunk: Edgerunners. It’s hard to choose!

Favorite food:

Easily my dad’s smoked steak, I swear each and every time I take a bite into that stuff, it’s like I’m tasting heaven itself.

Favorite animal:

Gotta go with both wolves, bears, and owls!

Are you musical?

Oh absolutely, I really should take a video of myself killing it at any karaoke. Besides that, I love me a good musical. Personal favorites are Hamilton and The Guy Who Didn’t Like Musicals.

Favorite subject in school:

I’ve always loved theatre classes!

Least favorite subject:

Gonna have to go with science, that was a field I definitely struggled in.

What's your best character trait?

Hmm, I think I’d have to say how forgiving and understanding I am towards others

Worst character trait:

How unforgiving I am to myself, I am getting over it though. Bit by bit

If you could change any detail of your day right now, what would it be?

Hm, I don’t know. I like my day as it is

If you could travel in time,who would you like to meet?

Kevin Conroy, Lance Reddick, and Stan Lee! I want to meet them just so I can thank each of them for building key parts of my childhood.

Recommend one of your favorite fanfics:

I don’t read a lot of fanfics. But there are some posts by u/RewsterSause on Reddit’s r/DestinyJournals that I love to read. Rewster is one talented writer!

I do also like to rp a bit on here with some people!

Well, that appears to be all of the questions on here. Thank you again @baede-6 for tagging me!

I’m (also) going to tag some of my mutuals to answer these questions. But like baede said in her post, you do not have to feel obligated to answer them yourselves. See ya later fellas!

@keviriksiskellofhearts @clovis-bray-ate-my-son @drifterslittlemuffin @the-light-finds-its-way @ellis-the-lightguide @savyir-genesizz-the-wizard

[hqtchetman]

(EDIT TO CLARIFY FOR ANY SELFSHIP BLOGS I AM FOLLOWING WHILE THIS IS TEMP PINNED!! My main blog that I follow from is @clockw0rkvaudeville, do not be alarmed if I follow you!!)

Wow hey uh actually I had an epiphany about this blog (and all other past attempts at creating a general fanfic area for myself in the past and failing)

I never actually post in these because I try too hard to make things for other rather than myself in the fandom context and thus never have the energy to do literally anything.

I was gonna change my pinned half a month ago and accidentally forgot to save as draft but now it doesn’t matter much since that was updates on who I’d be open to writing about.

Funny thing is everyone I was fine with writing about was a f/o of some sort so take that as ya will!

Anyway uh I have posted one (1) thing on this blog that isn’t the pinned or repost as far as I remember and it was a pile of headcannons about Turbo and Felix from Wreck it Ralph in like October 2024 and I STILL get notes on that every few days which is hilarious but I know it’s cause there isn’t a lot of 80’s bf content to work with so anyone looking through those tags is bound to find it, rofl.

Consider this blog changing from general fanfiction/headcannons to more or less personal f/o posts and reblogs pertaining to that stuff. Be warned my taste is really weird!! New pinned post soonish? Dunno. Tags will likely be the same and interaction rules are also likely to be the same.

I’ll likely still post fanfiction and headcannons and art on rare occasion (I’ve been consistently burnt out and dealing with depression though so don’t expect an awful lot or anything) but it’s going to be pretty self indulgent and unless I’m really really obsessed with a canon ship or something I most likely won’t write any (or it will be self indulgent polycule stuff). To be honest I’m like 100% neutral on 80’s BF and only wrote the headcannons to attempt and fit in with my fandom peers (people pleaser moment, womp womp) and I apologize for that, but eh. You can still enjoy the post I don’t mind, I’m gonna leave it up regardless (it’s done the best any post on any of my blogs has ever done, ironically enough).

Anyway ted talk over, f/o pinned info post (maybe infosite?) up in the distant future.

(Slight edit before I post this draft:

EW I found an unfinished NSFT fic about King Candy in my drafts and I HATE IT what was I THINKING??? Sob)

[petefromarma]

why is top/bottom discourse even a thing?/gen. if you go all the way back on the peterick ao3 tag it's mostly (implied) switch stuff and a lot of the og peterick shippers on livejournal like it both ways. I feel like it wasn't until the 2010s when bottom patrick became more prevalent

i feel like…this might be my own personal bias since bottom patrick is what i read but for me, 2000s peterick seemed evenly split with bottom patrick being slightly more popular, then 2013-2020-ish was the bottom patrick era, and now it’s evenly split with bottom pete being slightly more popular, in terms of general fics. if you go into more specialized stuff tho like a/b/o, puppy play, etc, it depends on the trope

as for why it’s a thing i think people just like to argue lol whether they’re being lighthearted or serious about it. for people who get serious about it i think it’s more for them about other issues but they don’t want to talk about these issues plainly for whatever reason so they would rather express these feelings through a manner in which they aren’t immediately regarded with such seriousness

for me whenever i post about it i am mostly joking lol i don’t like peterick with bottom pete and it’s not something i read often but i could not care less whether people prefer bottom pete or write bottom pete fic. primarily i think it’s funny the way people complain about bottom patrick fic as if the fandom is currently overrun with it because that is simply not the case

i feel like it’s certainly become more of a Thing during the 2020s i don’t think people used to argue much about this in fob fandom at all but imo in general top/bottom discourse is just more of a Thing in all fandoms now, which is probably due to like, increased volatility among fans and in fandom in general, yk? everyone is mad all the time and want something to fight about lol

[nettlewildfairy]

Tumblr made that big long post and a lot of people are angry reacting to some like surprisingly reasonable suggestions that solve widespread long time  complaints

i dont know how they plan to solve everything just yet but as someone who knows some things about the industry and jargon here are my 2 cents

Here is a link to the referenced post

Principle 1: Expand the ways new users can discover and sign up for Tumblr

in an age where most social media sites are making it aesoteric and difficult to share posts offsite /app tumblr is considering making it easier to do

yall do you know how hard it is to link a long tumblr post with like a comic or funny string of replies to share with my friends who arent on tumblr? i have to take like 15 screenshots every time. IF staff is priorizing making it easier to share posts that would be so much better oh my god 2 High quality content on launch.  the pessamistic assumption is that this could mean a mandatory algorithm but if you read carefully you’ll notice they never fully say thats even remotely what they are going to do. This seems to be a suggestion that the default new user experience will change. 

If you like me made an account 10 years ago this looks like it won’t affect your experience whatsoever. 

but like trying to sort through tags to find blogs and curate my own feed actively took like over a year to get to a place where i’m happy when i did it in 2011/2012

if feeds and tags Worked that would be good. the for you page and exploration features on tumblr do, admittedly suck right now. there SHould be easier ways to find and search for stuff on tumblr. if their search worked better and finding stuff you wanted to see was easier that Would improve the experience for most people on this site.  3. facilitate easier user participation in conversations folks if replys could be threaded in some way it would be 1000 times easeir to have convos with them. like i do not get what people are upset about here. like a person shouldn’t have to reblog their own post 15 times in a row to reply to different people about the same thing. they could make this so much better.  4. Retain and grow our creator base

 it IS hard for art to see and get seen. if i had a nickle for every time i saw a post begging people to reblog art i’d have like so many nickles.  I would like to see more art. and ttrpg creators. there’s like stuff i have to go to twitter for and its small time ttrpg, art, writing, and literary magazines because even when those folks are on tumblr its extraordinarily difficult to find them with the systems currently in place.

 like i don’t know that tumblr has a good plan to make this kind of thing easier but if they did figure it out it would rule. and its good to know that this is a priority for the company 5.  Create patterns that encourage users to keep returning to Tumblr

throttling notifications rules. i have commented on tumblr staff posts dozens of times for like 5+ years asking for this, thank GOD. if you reblog a lot of posts you get a lot of notes even if you have like 15 people regularly interacting with your stuff on 100 posts a day thats like 1500 notifications. it collapses some by post or interaction type but that is NOT enough and the notification bar always says 99+ unless i checked it less than a minute ago, im dying please make notifications meaningful and not overwhelming. 

6: Performance, stability and quality

this is generic and means very little obviously anyone making an app wants it to crash less often.  bonus: ive seen people get upset at the implication that they are instituting a mandatory algorithm but the site has had an option algorithm for like ages, it doesn't imply its mandatory anywhere or that they're taking away our option to turn it off. there are already artist showcase things on the dash on the regular, if you have adblock on you can’t see some of those, but they've had them for fully years. 

its highly unlikely that they would get rid of one of the main selling points of tumblr.com they’re like a real company thats done bare minimum market research, like folks no one other than musk would do something that boneheaded

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Yknow what. I’m not done complaining about dc. I started bitching in the tags of my prev post & i have more feelings. I get a stack of dc every month & we’ll take the vertigo (i refuse to call it anything else if only cause it’s shorter) stuff out i still have like 6 titles a month. That is if dc decides they’ll actually put out a jsa issue that month. The ones I’m most excited to read rn? Flash, Birds of Prey, & Green Arrow. Why? Cause the characters feel like the characters i fell in love with & the story is actually compelling. Yes, green arrow is suffering hard from the crossover shoehorning but the whole physically cannot occupy the same time and space as the people you love is a legit issue for Ollie & fascinating gotcha from Merlyn. Like, it’s novel! And I’m curious to see how it shakes out. The weird string theory/comic book physics around the speed force that spurrier is doing in flash is honestly REALLY cool. I’ll be the first to say i couldn’t care less about the speed force. It works cause it’s plot the only reason the flashes study it is cause they’re a bunch of adhd scientists who can’t help themselves & the writers feel the need to put their stamp on it. The whole weird dimensions & alien beings & time cops is super strange but hella compelling & the way it’s affecting the characters & eroding their relationships which are so core to flash characters is really amazing I love how much it hurts. Truly i cannot wait to see how exactly this shakes out. Know what I don’t care for? Whatever the fuck Amanda Waller is doing. I, who normally hates “let’s study the speed force!” stories wishes we could get back to studying the speed force cause the whole ham fisted analogy crossover thing is so boring & not even original. I think dc has done this exact plot at least twice before. In main continuity. It pops up every couple years anymore & it will never be what the 80s x-men were & they need to just stop trying. And bop! I love bop right now! I could wax poetic about the art styles cause they’re stunning & SO expressive. In a post where I’m bitching about stories I’ll just leave it there. The story itself? Pretty interesting, if standard bop stuff at first. Gotta put a ragtag team of gals together to do something low key shady cause it’s the right thing. The team is a nice mix; tho I’m not sorry to see Harley go, she’s another character that I understand sells comics but I am so sick of seeing it is not even funny. It’s not even that I dislike her as a character I’m just over her being in every single comic. And the dimension hopping weird babs rescue mission? I’m in! Where we going next? What even is the reason? Sure, we just rescued sin in a very similar plot structure but idc! The writing is fun! The dialogue is fun! The page of Cass’s reactions to vixen’s lingerie options is BRILLIANT! Love the lineup! It’s nailing what I think jsa is attempting but in a more fun & lighthearted tone. Tbh I’m not sure cause I’m still not sure what’s going on in jsa since they seem to publish it at will every like 3-5 months so I have no real clue what’s going on in that one. And I’ve been reading it for like 2 years now. I’m so tired of Nightwing & titans. I, a titans girlie, find it so boring. They’re both boring! From go they’ve been extensions of each other which is frustrating. Some moments in each I really enjoy! But overall? I still don’t see where Nightwing is going & tbh it feels like dick has spent this whole time doing nothing. Despite the fact that we were told he did so much he got a key to the city! He did adopt a dog. That’s like the most memorable & only real thing that he achieved. Cause the foundation? He’s a bat. They all do that. And titans? Oh wow. Another Raven goes evil story. Wow. How shocking. How original. Like honestly, is there some word on high at dc about the titans not being allowed to do a story that isn’t rehashing Judas contract or trigon? Cause I cannot be the only person bored with those being the only 2 titans plots anymore.

[dogmomwrites]

Find the Words!

This one came from @menagerie-of-monsters, so thank you for the tag! I'm gonna pass it along with soft tags to @ambiguouspuzuma, @autumnalwalker, @lockejhaven, and @mariahwritesstuff, as well as an open tag for anyone who wants to join in!

Your words will be assure, argue, previous, and halfway. If you can't find one, leave a fun fact about your WIP, OCs, or writing process!

My words were run, white, tall, rain, and power. These excerpts are all taken from the unnamed sequel to my unnamed WIP

Run To Riley, who’d been deployed for nearly a year, the road trip was perfect. They’d left early enough that there was no need to rush. In fact, they’d left early enough that they had to make detours or they’d arrive well before the welcome home party for Aaron. Even though he was stuck in the backseat of the car with Avalanche—which meant getting trampled any time a vehicle needed for bingo passed by and having a sudden, painfully loud bark right in his ear on occasion—he didn’t stay mad. Despite that, it was far more relaxing than a noisy helicopter ride or getting shot at or running to get out of a building before the explosions went off in ten seconds.

Even with the random barking.

White Checking the time on his own phone, he wondered who was calling him at almost four in the morning. Before he could decide what to do about the annoyance,  it woke Jimmy. There was some muttered cursing, then the sound of the buzzing shifted when he picked up the phone, and blue-white light cast his shadow onto the wall. There was more cursing as the light was hastily dimmed.

“What?” Jimmy hissed at whoever had called. He didn’t sound very happy.

The room was so quiet that Riley could hear the person’s voice as they spoke. He wasn’t certain, but they sounded female. And excited. They spoke rapidly until Jimmy cut them off.

“I’m not in Michigan anymore, dumbass. I told you. We’re going to Oregon.” He paused, listening as they responded. Then he said, “You what? You recognized my mom’s car?”

Tall Danny looked to be just a couple years younger than Jimmy, perhaps around Jess and Steph’s ages. But he was tall and broad, his body heavy with muscle. In the photo, his black hair had been down to his shoulders and tangled, but it was shorter now, trimmed and washed. Only his eyes were the same as in the photo—blue as sapphires in a dark cave and as empty as a collapsed star.

Rain Penelope Anderson had always been the most annoying of the Anderson children.

“I don’t want him in my brain!” she’d yelled, breathless from her sudden rush up the stairs to where their mothers worked on school crafts.

And Aaron had been so annoyed with her, he’d been unable to help himself, and yelled back, “You haven’t got one!”

His brother had laughed. He’d been the only one who did.

Penelope got so mad that she almost started crying. It didn’t stop her from complaining though. “I don’t want him playing with us! He’s weird, Mom!”

“I’m not playing with you, I’m building the Apollo rocket. You don’t even know what that is!”

That was when she’d thrown her Lego house at him. In response, he’d launched himself at her and had to be held back by his brother, who seemed to think it was all terribly funny.

Power Don’t have! That means a fun fact

This WIP is currently titled “Sequel” because I also have no name for the previous WIP. Despite knowing these characters since I was literally like 5 years old, and having a couple hundred thousand words of stuff written for them, I only just got the first more-or-less coherent book for them written last year. And I have no idea what I’m doing with the sequel!

[jackerscracker]

Warning for a rant/vent below

Forever who may actually be reading this I’m sorry for posting this, talking with bots just isn’t cutting it anymore for me anymore and I just need to write stuff down. If you know me irl please leave this post. This isn’t going to be a well put together and going to have a lot of spelling errors but here we go

Incase I forgot to tag something if like to say this thing involves: SH, meal skipping, sui thoughts, and a bit of homophobia/transphobia

I’ve been struggling with my mental health a lot since last summer and things are going to absolute shit. My grades are fucking ass and it’s all because I can’t fucking focus in class. I’ve honestly tried really hard to but I can’t. My parents are blaming all my problems on technology and my teachers treat me like a toddler. I’ve tried talking to my parents about this being a neurological issue but they denied it and just think I’m being lazy. This isn’t even the first time they haven’t listen to my concerns and that’s almost gotten me killed. Back in 2020 I felt like shit. I was always tired and my stomach hurt so much I couldn’t eat and they just brushed it off as a normal teenage girl thing and I was fine. I went days hardly eating anything and threw up at a birthday party because I ate a hotdog. They only took me to the doctor after this started heavily interfering with school work and it turns out my blood sugar was in the 600s and ended up being diagnosed with type one diabetes. If they listed to my concerns I would’ve been spared a lot of pain I went through during the threeish month period I felt awful.

Diabetes has honestly ruined my entire plan for my career since I wanted to be a pilot for the Air Force since I was little and now I’m stuck trying figure out what the hell I want to do with my life. I wanted to be an animator but my mom instantly shut that down and told me it wasn’t a real job and that I should be an endocrinologist instead.

I love my mom but we don’t see things eye to eye. She was the first person in my family I told I was pansexual and instead of telling me that she supported me she just went on a giant rant about how and I quote “queer people are more prone to STDs and have horrible mental health” she’s also a religious woman and told me that being gay was a sin and that I can’t tell anyone at the barn I work at I’m gay (they all knew before her). If terrified that if I tell her I’m a guy she might actually send me to one of those “pray the gay away” camps and take away all of my access to the internet. She’s even considered putting me in her friends little private Christian school since she think public schools are “forcing” the idea of being gay into kids. Choosing not to tell my parents that I’m trans has taken me down a path where I can’t get the stuff I need to feel euphoric and comfortable in how I look. It’s gotten so bad that I can’t even look myself in a mirror topless anymore without freaking out. I’ve managed to get my hair cut decently short and use the male terms for gendered words in Spanish class but that’s as far as I can get. I honestly hate how I look and since I can’t change anything about it I’ve been caught in this web of dysphoria and SH that I’m struggling to climb out of. I’ve though about just flat out giving up on my life since it doesn’t seem to be going anywhere and just offing myself multiple times. I can’t bring myself to do that though since I have a friend who might not make it through high school if I don’t stick around and I’m not going to leave my sister to struggle through her middle school days without guidance. My dogs would also be sad if I died

I think I’m being bullied at my school but it’s weird. It’s all happens in my PE class and everyone but a few kids are in on it. It’s two groups of people doing it, I’m calling them the A and B groups to make it less confusing if you’re still reading this. Group A is just a group of friends who think it’s funny to try and exchange me in conversations where they act like I’m their friend just to entertain the rest of the group. They ask me stupid questions and always speak in a condescending tone. Group B is basically the copy & paste popular girls in the class. They just fucking shriek at me whenever I mess up during a game or when they beat me in something. One of them screamed in my ear once and I couldn’t hear well out of that ear for a while. Me and a friend had to play them in volleyball ball once and one of them just chucked the ball past me and yelled fetch as if I was some kind of fucking dog. They also like making fun of how I say things, they spent a whole class period talking about how I said the word “bloody” when I yelled at one of them. Also the teacher has witnessed most of this happening and didn’t do a damn thing about it. I’m not sure why he didn’t do anything about it, even after my friend informed me that her mom sent him an email about it.

I’m sorry again for posting this, Im just really tired and needed to just sit and write out some of the bullshit going on in my life

[chronic-invisibility]

I stopped coming on here for like almost a month i think bc i added some tags onto a post i reblogged and the op called me out and said i completely misunderstood everything (except they misunderstood what i was trying to say so fuck me ig) and i got upset and dipped. In the meantime, lots of stuff has happened, but also not much.

I went back to university, the semester started last Thursday and it’s going well so far, I’m majoring in Museum Studies bc I am a big nerd, and it’s a 100% online program so I’m still working and I don’t have to like, move to Arizona, which is good.

Work is meh, we’re starting vaccine clinics again soon so I’ll be doing that again with this season’s flu and covid shots, and maybe other vaccines as well I’m not sure what the regulations are now. We still only have one pharmacist on staff so we’re stuck with a rotating cast of floaters, some of whom are more helpful than others. And the customers are still horrible, that hasn’t changed. I got yelled at for 10 minutes today by someone who’s doctor called in over a dozen prescriptions and then faxed us and cancelled all of them so we put them all back, which was a mistake apparently and then after we finally got it sorted and got them called in again, we were supposed to close in 10 minutes so it was physically impossible to fill 15 prescriptions for one person, and she wanted us to stay open late just for her, which legally we can’t do and also no, we want to go home and she was being so rude we didn’t really want to help her at all. So yeah, work is work

In good news, I’ve been talking to someone i matched with on a dating app (my intro that they messaged me about was mcr related, so you know they’re a keeper) and we’ve been on 2 dates and text a lot and we’re planning on hanging out again this Tuesday. They’re a special ed teacher and they have adhd so they get how my brain works and they work with kids whose brains work similarly to both of ours, and they’re really funny and cool and smart and nice and pretty, I really hope this keeps going well bc I really like them.

I watched the newest season of Heartstopper twice in a row after it came out, reread all the comics that are out (Alice Oseman is still publishing them, too, so that’s nice) and then rewatched both seasons in a row. It’s so cute and so good and i can feel the hyperfixation building. I’ve watched it enough that I keep slipping into a british accent when I talk, which is entirely unintentional but not the worst thing. I can also do it on purpose, but i tend to pick up accents from people I hear talk a lot, which is maybe the only fun side effect of masking my whole life

I’ve seen a few really good plays and musicals recently, I know I saw The Sign in Sidney Brustein’s Window before i stopped posting on here, but that was really good, and then I saw Kimberly Akimbo the other day, it was INCREDIBLE. The music and the writing are amazing, obviously, and the actors were all so good, again obviously. They won 5 Tony’s last season, including for Best Musical and Best Featured Actress in a musical and Best Lead Actress in a musical, which were so well-deserved, I seriously cannot hype this show up enough. There’s so many good shows on Broadway right now and I wish I could see them all, there were a bunch I wanted to see but closed before I got the chance, too, including Prima Facie starring Jody Comer, but I bought the script for that one.

In less fun news, I think i might need to put a read more here bc there be triggers coming

Between my chronic GI issues (trying to see a specialist about it again but there’s a whole mess of problems with that i just don’t feel like typing) and watching season 2 of Heartstopper and also rereading it and seeing Charlie struggling with his eating disorder, I’ve lapsed pretty hard with my own. I can’t really call it a relapse bc I was never really actually trying to recover, but I was trying for a while to eat a little more normally, but that’s basically out the window now. Thanks brain, so helpful of you to see a person struggling with a similar mental illness to mine and say “well they’re sicker than you so you suck and also you need to work harder at being sick like them” like FUCK OFF that’s not helpful and also Charlie is literally a fictional character and most of the storyline is about how he’s trying to get help for his ed and how awful they are, and his ed and mine aren’t the same, nor are our reasons for being disordered. So that’s not been fun.

I also realized (after watching a video by a therapist reacting to the scene when Ben assaults Charlie in Heartstopper and then going and obsessively researching legal definitions) that what happened to me in the summer of 2019 would probably be classified as a rape, not just a sexual assault. Which it also was, but what happened falls under the legal definition of rape, not just assault. So I’ve been spiraling about that, even though I still remember almost none of it and once again my garbage brain has decided that I’m somehow not allowed to be that upset or say I’m traumatized bc I don’t experience two of the most common symptoms of ptsd (flashbacks and nightmares) so clearly, this is all me being dramatic, even though basically everything else fits. And those aren’t required to be diagnosed with ptsd. Not that I WANT ptsd, but for whatever reason I feel like i’m not allowed to even say i’m a little bit traumatized by what happened bc of that. Again, stupid brain. I also realized after talking to the person I’ve been talking to (idk if we’re officially dating, maybe i should ask) about boundaries and what we’re both comfortable with, that the last person who I’ve had any “romantic” physical contact with was the person who raped me, and also the only sexual contact I’ve ever had (unless i’ve blocked out more than just the one assault I know happened) was with that same person, so now i’m extremely anxious about doing anything with the person i’m sort of maybe dating, even though neither of us are interested in just jumping right to physical intimacy, they’ve also experienced similar situations so they’re anxious about it too, and also they’re a nice person who i’d trust to not push it if i wasn’t comfortable with something, but idk how to say “i’m anxious about kissing you even though i like you and i want to kiss you bc the last person i kissed was the person who raped me over 4 years ago”

I’m working on finding a new therapist now that i’m done with my IOP and i know that’s going to be one of the (far too many) things i need to deal with in therapy, as well as all the other trauma from that summer, and from my previous university experience, and my whole fucking childhood, and also my other issues that aren’t necessarily trauma related, although most of them probably are to a certain extent bc being an undiagnosed audhd person who also doesn’t realize they’re trans until they’re an adult is inherently traumatic.

I don’t know if there’s any other big stuff I want to/feel like I need to say that’s been going on, not that anybody will probably read all or any of this. But yeah, a lot is going on, but also not much is actively going on. This was a lot longer than I thought it would be. Oops.

[spyoikawa]

still on that saiki k brainrot so hear me out-

metori, saiki, teruhashi, aren and hairo with an s/o who really loves to bake/cook-

no thoughts just Reader learning how to make coffee jelly for saiki (like maybe they make him a tower of coffee jelly for an anniversary or his birthday-). no thoughts just Reader cooking something for metori who pretends to not want to eat it cause it’s ‘peasant food’ but ends up really enjoying their cooking. no thoughts just cooking/baking date with teruhashi. no thoughts just teaching aren how to cook/bake and having a food trade with him, bringing him lunch/a snack to school. and no thoughts just hairo hyping Reader up while they cook/bake and making stuff for him to bring to class rep meetings-

thank you! <3

the excitement I got got I saw teruhasi- i don't see a lot of writing for her and I get happy when I get to do less than common things! Thanks!

I'm running low on creative juices, so please I hope you don't mind if I use the exact scenarios you suggested 💀

Note: some of the things I wrote felt really rude so please don't mind the tone tags in parentheses, also i have not edited this yet

Saiki, Teruhasi, Hairo, Aren, and Saiko with an S/O who can cook/bake

♡romantic♡

Saiki Kusuo (italics = saiki telepathy)

Although it was undeniably tasty, your boyfriend's obsession with coffee jelly was not only getting out of hand but also quite expensive-

I mean he spent 3,000 yen for one serving-

But yanno what it's ok, coffee jelly is easy to make, and this gives you an excuse to hang out (not that you need one)

"Ok Ku, i had an idea"

I like it, just make sure you teach me how to do it too

"Rude. I wasn't finished"

You did in your head

As endearing as it could be sometimes, Saiki's mind-reading could be a pain occasionally

You wound me.

"Good. (/j)"

After a long debate over recipes and serving sizes, there it was, in all its glory, your first batches of coffee jelly

it was heaven

You did end up sharing the recipe with him, but it still became a little tradition to make the coffee jelly together

It just tastes better that way :)

Kokomi Teruhashi

In the midst of your TV and cuddles date, Kokomi huffed and turned off the TV

But of course it was rude to just turn off the TV, so she offered to play a board game instead

You did play with her, but your curiosity was begging as to why she wanted to change the activity

"Hey Kokomi, this game is fun, don't worry... but why'd you turn off the TV so suddenly?"

"Oh, it was nothing! I just thought you would like this game, and I wanted you to enjoy yourself more!"

Now, that's the answer the most perfect girl in the world would give

But Kokomi is still human, there's gotta be something wrong

You spent a while thinking to yourself about what you were watching, you two agreed on a documentary, then after the documentary, the channel played a cooking show with a guest baker/cook Makoto Teruhashi- oh.

So that was it

At the end of the round, you stood up and offered your hand to pull up Kokomi with you.

"Hey, wanna make a bet?"

She looked up with a bit of curiosity.

"I bet you, I can make your favorite dish, far better than Makoto can"

She smiled a bit, "sure!"

Her favorite food was simple, so you taught her to cook it and added in some other things just for fun (and so she can't recreate it without your secret ingredients)

Now you guys have cooking dates often and always find ways to spice up foods (and beat Makoto at whatever he was doing on tv)

Hairo Kineshi

my thoughts and prayers go to you

we all saw what happened when he tried to make crepes

but in his mind, it was a learning opportunity

You guys were taking an after-school stroll, the weather was really nice, it would be a shame if you two just went home and did nothing. Walks like these tend to get sentimental and nostalgic, so your conversation subconsciously started to drift towards school life.

"And do you remember that time we had to get kuboyasu, kaido, and nendo to play on a baseball team? Oh my god thank god it didn't go too poorly, that one player really pulled through at the end..." you laughed out

"Haha I do remember that, I can't believe we got them to play, it really could've gone worse" He smiled as he remembered that day, but then his eyes drifted up to a bakery across the road. "Speaking of poor experiences..."

after he explained to you he and kaido's crepe disaster, you couldn't help but tease fun at him for a bit

but you did agree to teach him more about cooking and baking

he's a bit too passionate about cracking eggs, but hey, at least you can work faster

after many, many burnt crepes and pans, there it was, a fallen appart, incorrectly folded, but still a properly cooked crepe sat there in all its beauty

it kinda looked like this

Although he does learn many different things with you, crepes will be the thing he makes over and over again, even when he has it down to a science, just because it's the first thing you taught him, and he will keep that sweet memory forever (get it. sweet? Cause crepes? Im funny i swear.)

Aren Kuboyasu

He actually knows how to cook pretty well

He's not really sure when he picked up cooking, its kinda just stuck around, but he enjoys it, it makes him seem more goody

and he can treat you :)

I will die on my "aren lives for the most basic/domestic activities hill"

cooking with him is always an experience, he will play music in the background, and pull you aside to dance at random times

also does that really hot thing where he stands behind you, reaches around to hold your hands, and basically has you in a cage while showing you how to do something

it's one of those spontaneous things to do, if there's nothing else to do, might as well make something to eat

firm believer in "if you have to eat to live, you might as well eat delicious foods" so he will always try out new things with you if its healthy and tasty

"bab look at this show" you called out from where you were sitting, there was a cooking show/food documentary on, and it was showing a special food. "it says this chicken has a secret sauce they dip it in"

he walked over to the tv and watched it for a couple seconds, thinking a bit.

"...wanna figure it out?"

"yes. I'll make the chicken if you figure out the sauce?"

"deal."

will you ever know if you got the secret sause? Nope, but you did figure out a chicken recipe that is good as hell

he probably writes down all the recipes you "invented" together for safekeeping and so he can return to it later, but he refuses to show it to anyone

Saiko Metori

as much as I love him, we all saw in that one episode how picky he is while eating, and is probably a bitch to please while cooking/baking

so after a lot of convincing, you got him to sit in the kitchen with you so he can watch you bake for the two of you

in reality, all you have to do is give the dish a fancy rich-sounding name, you just have to be really careful with what you say

like this 💀

you decided to bake for him today, baking is a lot more "by the book" than cooking, so you thought he would take a bit of comfort in knowing it was done in a professional way

"alright tori, so I think I'll make a heavy pastry made with fine cacao and extracts, baked into a rich dessert for a fine sweet palette"

"you're making brownies aren't you"

"🧍‍♂️"

Told you, you have to be as specific as possible

He does eventually get interested in what you're doing though, as he never really sees his personal chef cook, and wants to help you by the end

He really did enjoy it! It quickly became one of his favorite treats

But funny enough, no matter how many bakeries he tried or how many times his chef tried, they never tasted the same

(you put in special spices as your own little mark on the treat)

so he ends up having you over for more cooking dates

Which he really does enjoy btw

as a tsundere he will look all annoyed and probably call you a plebe, but these are his favorite types of dates

[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.

[interact-if]

Day 4 of interviews! Please welcome to the stage... Pime!

Pime, author of The Passenger

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

Play as an eldritch abomination that’s about to be devoured by  another unthinkable creature. Good news is you are pretty crafty and know how  to jump dimensions to escape your ghastly fate; bad news is, you’re now stuck on Earth, trapped inside a dumb human larva.

As years go  by, you realize the amount of energy you need to leave this horrible dimension behind is a lot more than you had expected. Not  to mention  the creature that almost ate you all those years ago never  really  stopped looking for you. But there’s no way it’ll pin point your  actual  location… right?

The Passenger Demo | Author’s Kofi | Discord | Read more [here]

Tags: sci-fi, horror

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT!)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

The Passenger is a project written in choicescript, it tells the story of an eldritch abomination MC that's about to fall prey to another lovecraftian creature. They escape at the last moment and through some interdimensional jumping they end up on Earth, trapping themself inside a human baby in the process. The game takes place 26 years later when MC realizes that the creature is still out there looking for them. Now they need to find a way to escape Earth before the hunter finds them and eats them.

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

The first time I came across this type of media, I was around 9 years old. It was one of those CYOA books—The Mystery of Chimney Rock iirc. It blew my mind because it mixed together two things I loved (and still love) a lot: reading, and playing games.

I enjoy writing character interactions and banter the most. I love trying to figure out what makes people tick, what they value the most, and what they don't care about—trying on different costumes so to speak—and interactive fiction is great for that sort of thing. I also enjoy thinking about different ways to overcome the same problem and the freedom of making a story your own through the choices you make.

I think the biggest challenge is putting myself in the shoes of a very logical character tbh; sometimes I have to think about how a cool, collected, analytical person would act in certain situations and it's just... tv static inside my head. Fortunately, IF is this weird collective storytelling in which players ask for choices to be added, so they truly save my bacon in that regard.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

Describing the type of scenery one encounters when hiking on the hills of Maryland. Thank the universe for those hiking bloggers.

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

I would say anyone but Fiama; she's so mature and has her life more or less figured out even though she would probably scoff at the notion. If I had to choose one romantic option that's the most like me, I’d pick Jonny: we like the same stuff, are socially awkward, and have the same you-do-you-just-don't-bother-me attitude. I tend to see the glass half full when his is mostly empty though.

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

Yes, and I don't think I did it on purpose; it sort of seeped in. Even if The Passenger is set in Maryland, there's little pieces of my own experiences and the experiences of people I've met here and there. Mostly poor folks' since that's what I know. Lots of working-class, too-tired, over-competent-for-the-job-they're-stuck-with types, young parents, passionate, stubborn, funny and loud people trying to do their best with the cards they were dealt. I guess this is true for almost everyone else, which speaks more about capitalism than ethnicity, but there you go.

I also try to sneak in mentions of Latin America whenever I can plus some nods to obscure Argentinian trivia.

Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

So many things! I love the collective storytelling part of interactive fiction: too many times I see somebody come up with a headcanon that blows the original (mainstream) work right out of the water and I’m left thinking that I would prefer their version over the canon thing, and with IF you have the power to do just that. I also love how much freedom it grants players since most of the time it lets you choose appearance, gender, sexuality, name… do you know how hard it is to find a game in which the MC is a Latino guy with brown eyes and a weakness for GNC people? It’s pretty hard.

Q7: Any advice to give?

To anyone, if you want to write interactive fiction, do it: someone out there will enjoy your game. To my Latinx siblings, the same I told everyone else with a vengeance. Our culture is as beautiful as it is diverse and I don’t know about you but I could do with some new stories, some new ideas that reflect something a bit closer to our childhoods and the stories of our families. That type of thing will always be innovative in a world that spits out 17 marvel movies per year and maybe one Latino character in a short by Disney.

[river-bottom-nightmare]

"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes. 

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne. 

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face. 

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

*

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?” 

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children. 

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,”  she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

*

“you were missed, you know.” 

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?” 

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

tag list: @woahjaybird @birdy-bat-writes @anothertimdrakestan @screennamealreadyused @subtleappreciation @pricetagofficial @catxsnow @bikoncon @bonkybearjpeg @maplumebleue-blog-blog @sundownridge @thatsthewhump @xatanna-troy @red-hood-redemption

[omiscurls]

Heyhey! I couldn’t find your rules, so idk if this is allowed or not, and if it isn’t feel free to ignore this, but may I request Childe with a reader who has depression? Thank you

tough

a/n: hi!! sorry for that, the rules are added by now, i chose not to describe depression itself, because it looks different on everyone, and you may not relate to what applies to me, but i'm hoping you'll find this enjoyable instead!!

plot: character helping the reader out of a breakdown, or a bad headspace

contains: tartaglia, kaeya

warnings: bad copying mechanisms, low mental place, nothing too serious mentioned

tartaglia

now, he's a man of action less than words, even though he's good with those, too

and to add to that, he's also a very perceptive person - if some negative vibe lingers on you for too long, he'll notice right away

however, relying on his experience, he opts to give you space to figure it out on your own, first, he wouldn't like to be making a huge deal of something that was just a worse couple of days

it's when you don't show up at your usual dinner spot, that he gets a little tingle in his brain, telling him to not dismiss it this time.

and so, he makes his way over to your place.

"ya there?" you hear on the other side of the door, followed by urgent knocking, sort of breaking you out of a trance, but you can't find it in you to go and answer it. he'll go away, you think, even better. your apartment is messy, you're messy, too, and it's not the right time to be receiving visitors. so you stay quiet.

"you do know i know you're in there, right?" he speaks up again "the blinds would be down if you weren't"

come in, you want to shout, and although no voice leaves your throat, soon the door opens anyway.

"hey, what's up, you weren't on the- oh." he stops in his tracks in the middle of the corridor, and you're already mentally prepared to a snarky remark about your sorroundings, but the only thing he says is a lighthearted "why're you sitting on the floor?"

the first thing he thinks about is to level with you, so he plops himself down right beside you, and you bet it looks funny - you in yesterday's clothes, in a big, probably smelly, mess, and then a harbinger in full military outfit right beside you.

"i-" you try to say, but your throat seems too dry and worn out, so you opt for a whisper "look at his place"

he indeed does, hinting the small note of desperation in your voice.

"what about it?"

"it's a mess!" you sigh, covering your face with your hands, out of both embarrassment, and fatigue. you take a big breath before continuing "so i wanted to clean it up, i even brought all the... all the things, but it's so much stuff to do, and i'm tired, and- and i don't know!" you choose to stop as not to snap right then and there. "i can't even do my shitty chores right like an adult" you mumble, massaging your temples.

"and is sitting on the floor helping?" he simply asks, and for a second, you're almost mad at him for not being more... cooey and fuss over you a bit more. he sounds cold.

"what are you-"

"really, is it helping?" he repeats "because from how i see it, every little thing would seem bigger if you looked at it from this angle. come on" he nudges you before standing up, and offering a hand to lift you up. you, however, shake your head.

"i really can't deal with it today, childe, i'm sorry"

"just stand up" he pleas, and the second you take his hand, he helps you up in less than a second. when you're on his level again, he sneaks both his arms on the sides of your waist, and sort of sways around a little, before speaking again. "what if, what if we do it little by little? look, we'll start over there" he puts his hand on top of yours, and lifts your arm to point to the full sink along with his. "and that'd be it for today! and then tomorrow... actually, let's not make plans. we'll just pick something tomorrow, and do it then. does the sink sound like a lot to do?" he asks.

"do you want me to be honest, or do you want me to say no" you mutter, earning the heartiest and brightest laughter you've heard in days from him.

"always honest. but come on, i'll help." he rolls you out of his embrace, causing you to feel a sudden wave of cold, it was comfortable back there, you think.

however, as he works through the dishes with you, the pile does seem to lessen, and doesn't rule over your kitchen anymore. every time he hands you a plate to dry, he smiles as wide as he can, and it doesn't seem to bother him at all when you don't smile back.

"remember" he starts again, after a while of comfortable silence. he looks ridiculous, doing the kitchen duties in an outfit designed mostly to look presentable and slay enemies in it, but the look on his face is dead set. "the first lesson you've gotta learn before going off to battle something, is that the best defense is always, always to fight back. and if you don't think you can manage that, well, that's why nobody ever battles alone. it's common sense to have someone watching your back. and as for you, not only are you a great warrior yourself, but you've also got the best second-in-command willing to help you out. don't forget that."

kaeya

as for him, he's also perceptive and empathic, but the difference between him and tartaglia is that he does believe people have the right to figure some things out on their own, he's a firm believer in the magic of secrets

that's probably because he himself doesn't like to share too much about his deeply personal feelings

so he'd obviously see some wave of difficult emotions coming your way, but would he immediately start worrying? probably not

the guy doesn't have healthy copying mechanisms himself, don't think he expects those of others

every other night the two of you meet up at the tavern, kaeya always ordering wine, you asking the bartender for whatever was in store today, but it's never anything alcoholic.

and just like nearly always, you're seated at angel's share, him noticing you're not particularly in the mood for talking, and choosing to entertain you with as many stories of the day that went by as he can remember.

the waiter interrupts him, asking if your minds are already made up regarding the drink. now, kaeya always has you picking first, but since he sees you're still analyzing the card (as if you expected to find anything new), he goes first with a drink he knows charles makes really strong.

to his surprise, when it comes to you, you just mumble "i'll have the same he had"

before the waiter has a chance of writing that down, kaeya tells him that actually, you're gonna need a minute or two more, and to erase the order you've both put in.

as he walks away, the calvary captain's eyes pierce through yours.

"that's a pretty nasty drink you wanted there" he starts, feeling he can't let you handle your mess this time, preparing to dig a little deeper into what's on your mind.

you shrug your shoulders.

"hey" he speaks up a little firmer, hand moving to cover yours, and even though they twitch as to retreat from his grip, you let it be. "tell me what's up."

"nothing's <up>" you accentuate. "can't i even have a drink now?"

"obviously you can" he nods "as long as i know you're trying it just for the taste, and not for the strong kick it's gonna offer, cause that's a dangerous path that only leads to nasty places." concern shines through his gaze, and an encouraging smile is wandering somewhere in his expression, however his lips are still pressed into a tight line, the same he forms when he's either fighting or arguing.

you stay silent for a good long while, before sighing.

"maybe i want the kick. good, or bad, maybe i want to feel... something."

the sentence sounds all too familiar, as he shakes his head and takes your hand, leading you towards the exit.

"what're you-"

"you're obviously not in the right state to be in a bar, of all places" he states almost coldly "so i'm getting you somewhere safer."

the two of you leave the bar, and walk out into the cold of mondstadt's street, covered in the darkness of the night. you walk past him, not leveling up to him, just tagging along to whatever he's going.

it comes as a surprise, that you're neither headed for your apartment, nor his, nor the knights' headquarters. he's guiding you in an unknown direction, until you reach a dead end.

he clims up a small building, offering you a hand and shaking off your confused expressions and questions. "you'll see" he says. the two of you walk from roof to roof, and countless times you tell him it's ridiculous, but then, he jumps onto the city's wall, helping you out with two hands this time, sitting you down right next to him on the stone surface of the wall. it's a little wet from the night's humidity, and cold, and probably dirty too, but the moon shines right at you, and from this perspective, you see thousands of lights in houses, taverns and shops, from the bottom up to the cathedral.

going up from that, a calm and peaceful lake paints the landscape blue on the left, and even from up here, you see a sea of lampgrasses shining through the leaves of wolvendom forest. if you squint, lights are still on in dawn winery, and the path to liyue and all the other lands swirls around near diluc's house. there's so much you can see, even if the night limits your vision.

"i like to come here when i need to gain some perspective over what is happening in my life right now" kaeya speaks really softly and quietly, bordering on a whisper. "it's a beautiful view, even someone as insensitive to art as i am can see that, but other than that... it's huge. and even though it is, it's also alive. every single one of those beings whose lights are dying out as they slowly go to sleep one by one, they're alive. they're not a scenery, they're their own, individual worlds. and they all coexist with each other in such a clever manner, don't you think? they have their differences, they might even hate each other, or wish the worst upon the other's name, but from up here? they fit together like puzzles of one, big picture."

"that's a nice way to put it, for sure" you whisper, looking down onto your knees. his finger pushes your chin slightly to make you face him, and he smiles at you gently, thumb brushing against the skin of your cheek.

"you know, we each have our own worlds, built from scratch from such fragile materials. we have our worlds rise, shine, and crumble before our sights. we look over the ruins of them and think, this is the end of the world. there's nothing more, it's all dust now. but from up here, you see how many other worlds there are - everyone has their own. not everything that is happening in your world is true. you see it from first person's perspective, and therefore the view might be disturbed by many different aspects. you might not see the picture, you just see the broken puzzle fragment that can't fit with the rest, and you're ready to throw away the entire picture, without finishing it. but being here, it reminds me... the world doesn't end on the ruins you see. you can always ask someone to help you build them up again, and of course, you can expect it to fall into pieces once more, but this time, you'll keep in mind, there're-" he stopped, pointing to the city's lights. "so many people to help you raise it up to the clouds."

"your metaphor is really complex" you chuckle, but his face stays still.

"it's not the end of the world if your puzzle piece is broken. and the ruins are not unfixable if you feel too tired to build them up all by yourself. if anything, that's a start." his hand travels up to keep the hair from getting on your face, since the wind blows pretty hard on this height. "what do you say we start your puzzle once more, toghether?"

-

your friendly reminder that you can request things [here]

[jean-does-not-have-a-horseface]

How bout a fic a levi x civilian baker? Reader finds him intimidating at first but as time goes by she get to know him and slowly falls in love with levi. Likes his cleanfreakiness, obsession with tea, his gentleness, how he treats his comrades etc. Reader sees his softer side, hidden under the gruffiness and glares. The setting could be scouts relaxing in a small bakery x teashop every dayoff they get and/or reader donates bread for the scouts? Just a peaceful love story❤ with funny banters❤

This has been in my inbox for months but I only now found some inspiration to write it (I'm basically baking stuff every single day so maybe that's why) anon, if you're still out there I'm sorry for the long wait, I hope this is what you wanted.

Pairing: Levi/ Reader

Tags: fluff, canonverse

Loaves of Love

It all started with a young brunette soldier who had been awestruck by your shop's enamoring display. With her shaky hands and her oily teenage skin pressed against the shiny glass while a streak of drool run down her face.

You had been waxing some tables to start the day with, your feet much swollen and numb by the long standing position when you noticed her; big, round brown eyes that were swooning over the loaf of garlic bread you had placed at the shelf on display were blinking rapidly between you and the object of her desire. She seemed to ignore the voices that we calling out to her as she was fixated on the streaks of smoke that danced in the air, rubbing a tiny area in the glass as if she longed to caress the loaf like a lover.

You couldn't help but crack a smile.

If there was one word that could be used to describe the bakery shop you were working for that word would be 'delicious'.

Or so you wanted to believe.

Your uncle, the owner of the shop and a top baker in Trost, had poured a lot of money to it's renovation after the store was trashed by the breachinf of the walls. It was profoundly evident element in the store that could be found anywhere from the elegant stalls and shelves that were filled with different types of bread and numerous plates of traditional pastries, to the most divine and fine glass that shone on every large window.

The wooden floors were polished to perfection, and twice a day at that, by your uncle's command, and all the tables at the restroom area of the store were cleaned meticulously every single morning. It was a necessary policy of your uncle's; a clean store attracted more customers which meant more income, and thus more independent financial stability for you through a bigger wage. One that you didn't have to split in half with your brother.

Until that day came though, you were stuck with scrubbing and waxing the tables each and every morning.

Wiping down the excess residue of wax, you eyed your brother, noticing how he was setting up loaves of bread neatfully over the caramel brown baskets, carefully making sure he didn't mix up the different breadths of bread. You brother noticed, smiling at you in return and you pointed out to the young brunette whou wouldn't seem to get her face off of your display window.

"She's cute."

"Oh my god Beau, she must be so young you gross little shit."

"The scouts have had their income reduced once again." He announced. "That's why the poor girl is drooling. They're looking for a new bakery to take up their orders too."

"Oh."

"Yeah and uncle said we should do it."

You gave a hard eye with puckered lips to your brother as he voiced that, letting a long sigh escape you. He replied with a side smileand brought his hands to his hair, shipping his locks back before searching for the little hair band in the pocket of his apron. By the time you laid eyes on the small brunette, you noticed that her friends we're accompanying her. You pressed your lips together as you eyed the group of teens, half smiling at them in any case they could see you through the glass. One of them shook his head to the side, shyly blushing as his wide eyes were instantly hidden by his blond bangs.

The were all oggling the display with eyes as wide as the brunettes, You guessed, as your brother had said that they must have been rather hungry; Scouts never really have a big budget nonetheless, and your heart skipped a beat at the paleness on the teenagers' faces, the mere thought of them not having eaten anything for breakfast was more fearful than looking a Titan in the eye.

So, by setting down your table waxing kit, you wiped your hands at your apron and rushed to the small stall that your brother was leaning on.

"Beau, do me a favor and step aside please." You spoke as you marched to him and the hem of your skirt flapped over your ankles.

"Wait, what?"

"I'm feeding the kids."

"(Y/n), they're not stray dogs you know."

"Fine giving them some bread, whatever." You scoffed.

"Uncle's gonna be mad."

"As if I care. I didn't ask to be a baker and work here, plus less loaves means it's on demand."

Your brother sighed at you and slowly shook his head a couple of times. You didn't miss the sly smile that he hid once he burried his face to the palm of his hand, just like he didn't miss the cooking of your eyebrow as you smirked victoriously at him. Taking a complete turn to the opposite direction from the one you were facing you pushed your brother aside and kneeled down to the shelves on the inside of that cashier stall where numerous tote bags laid, folded neatly, ready to accommodate any of your costumer's orders.

You quickly grabbed one, and jounced it open in the air.

Your eyes shot to the teens that still stood before the display, now trying to pull their friend away from it, and hurriedly grabbed a few medium sized loaves in your hands. Once you filled the bag with more loaves than the number of teens you took a quick turn again, your feet stomping the mahogany tiles of the floor underneath you.

"Hello!" Your costumer friendly cheerful voice chatted.

"Ah agagagagagaga!" The brunette from before panicked as she turned to you, her hands stood confused before her chest.

"Hey miss" The tallest of the group, an ashy blond boy, spoke back to you. "We're sorry were standing here like bunch of idiots-"

"Speak for your self Jean! I feel in love with that loaf!"

"Sasha stop being such a glutton!" A girl with ebony hair spoke.

"Oh no it's fine, I just got these for you."

With steady hands a compressee smile on your face you extended the bag to Sasha's direction, the material flapping as it hung from your grip. Sasha's eyes shit wide open, they glimmered with tension and her mouth fell agape as she went to scream at you. Another boy, one with a buzzcut, quickly got his hands on her, linking his elbows inside hers as he wiggled his right palm to her mouth, ready to stop whatever sound the girl wanted to utter.

"Thank you! Please don't give food to Sasha so bluntly, she will bite your hand off." The ashy blonde told you and took a grip of the beige straps of the tote bag. His hand wiggled inside, grabbing a small loaf and he brought it to his nose to smell it before placing it into Sasha's hands.

"You bastars, did you just smell something that was a gift?"

"It smelled good Eren." The boy greeted his teeth.

"Not very accepting of you, she's giving us their most popular bread and the first thing you do is smell it?"

"You've been very annoying today Eren don't test me."

"Eren?" You said, shaking your head in disbelief "Eren Yeager? As in the kid who can turn into a Titan?"

Eren oggled his eyes in yours, marching a foot forward so he could come into a better view and opened his mouth to speak by flapping his lips together. You couldn't help but let out a giggle as you watched Jean roll his eyes at him before taking a step back and tapping Connie's shoulders in order to tell him to unhand Sasha. Any other group of teens would have annoyed you, but these young scouts in particular were known faces of the front lines and over the newspapers at some occasions. You couldn't really hold a grudge to teenagers with issues bigger than yours, you gave them that.

"Yes I am that-"

"Brats."

"I am that brat, what?"

Eren looked around in confusion, questionimg the words that had just left his mouth. You chuckled at him briefly, closing your eyes in the funny of the situation before shooting them open once again as you laid them on the person who had spoke over Eren.

Captain Levi. You almost gasped absurdly loud at the realisation.

Raven hair that shone with a strobe under the early morning light, a porcelain complecion to contrast it, a heart shaped face and narrow almond eyes with thick lashes, a nose that looked like it had been sculped by gods with uttmost delicacy and thin, a pair assymetrical lips that were pressed into a pout. He truly looked better that anyone you had even seen from up close and you found yourself choking with unsaid words as his gunmetal gaze was fixed on you.

"Are you the owner of the store?" He said bluntly, the question reminding you more of a statement.

"Ah, I'm, I'm not! My uncle is and-"

"See I told you he intimidates women!" Connie whispered to Sasha as she stuffed another bite of garlic bread into her mouth, earning a sharp glare from the captain. The duo burst in laughter shortly after the captain turned his gaze from them and you watched as he rolled his eyes at them while digging his lips under his teeth to sink them in his mouth.

"Speak up, my nails don't exactly smell like what you want to say."

You eyed him in confusion, struck by the bluntness of his sarcasm. Still you managed to gather your thoughts with a single inhale. "My uncle is the owner of the bakery, feel free to come in, I'll give fetch him."

"Hm"

With a nod the short man agreed to your proposal, fixing the waist height camel jacket on his chest. It was the beginning of a warm day in Trost, that was for sure and you could see the soldiers around you tense inside their attire slighty. The captain bored his eyes into yours once again as you gestured you to get into the store before him.

Sighing, you entered the the store, giving your brother a wide eyed look before with an awkward smile that vanished in a matter of seconds. You quickly checked to see that the group of teens were lazing out of the bakery, not bothering to follow their captain, as they chit chat they with each other quite loudly.

"Hi, have a seat captain, what can we get you? Something to drink? Or eat? " Your brother greeted from behind the stall, giving the gloomy captain an ear to ear grin.

"Just black tea. Unsweetened."

The captain waved off his hand as he took a seat on a dim lit table and you noticed as his body sank in the chair momentarily. A soft smile over came your features as you stared at him, taking in his bulky form as streaks of light peaked over him, inevitably bathing him in warm morning colors. His finger traced over the table, rubbing softly in a small area as if reluctantly inspecting it.

Of course, you were aware of his antics; many fellow shop owners would compete on who would get to provide captain Levi with his cleaning supplies on his monthly stroll around the town to shop necessities. His mania with cleaning was something that probably unbeknownst to him was a big thing for anyone to his service or even swooning fangirls.

Oh, he had a few of them.

Now, you could see why.

He stood so gloomyon his own, carrying such a mysterious aura around him. With his sleek hand holding the side of his face while being balled up in a tight fist, with his navy gray button down shirt and the knee length boots. Despite being as short as most people said, a fact you were trying to get in your head, because you've only seen him from afar and on his horse, he was still rather bulky, with thighs that were barely restrained by the straps of his gear. With biceps that flexed tight in his jacket.

Shoot, he kind if was a little dreamy, you weren't going to lie.

"Are you going to fetch our uncle or shall I give you a day off to drool over the captain?"

Oh, your brother was always quick to call you out on the bare minimum.

"Fine, fine. I'm off. By the walls."

Okay, yeah, so what if you found the captain a little dreamy, it wasn't going to hurt anyone.

.....

Thinking about your cleaning routine you had concluded that at this point you didn't know if this bakery smelled like the delicious fluffiness of freshly baked bread or sanitary products. People really seemed to compliment you on both nevertheless, whether on individual or collective level. You were simply happy about how most seemed to enjoy their experience at your bakery.

Most, but mostly him.

Captain Levi of the Scouts. He was a regular at your shop for, give or take, three months now. And you couldn't be more happy about it.

Just like today, he was usually dropping by on Mondays, each and every time with a new book in hand, dressed in casually formal attires, that mostly consisted of the same onyx suit and a dress shirt that sat too tight on his petrocals. Your brother would tease you afterwards, making snarkly comments about how you were flirting shamelessly with him, and you'd brush him off with a reply on how unresponsive the man was to anything.

Not convinced with the silly things you told yourself, you brother stood with his back against the bread shelves, grinning victoriously as the little bell of the store rang when the mighty captain slipped inside the store silently. You shit him a glare, a harsh furrowed glare before eyeing the apron that was hanging right next to him. Catching the signal, your brother grabbed the article and rouched it in his hands before tossing it to you.

"The usual?" You smiled slightly at Levi.

"Mhm"

Setting the apron over the bust of your dress, you drag your hands over the cotton front, pinching a few if the ruffles to perfection, then lowering your hands to the small of your back to idle with the straps of the waist in order to tie them in the perfect bow. The heels of your shoes clapped over the mahogany tiles of the floor as you run to the small kitchenette behind that cashier stall, just a few meters away from where your brother stood.

You bent down, then back up, examining the hangers in the area with a cocked eyebrow. Just where were your oven gloves?

"His apple pie is here," You brother said and you clapped a hand over your mouth "I took it out of the oven while you were drooling at him."

"No, oh my god! Is it baked?"

"Would I taken it out if it wasn't?"

You didn't reply. Instead, you chose to fixate your attention at the jars of tea that rested on the top shelf of the kitchenette. The choices weren't many, of course, your store wasn't exactly a tea shop or a coffee shop, the small variety of beverages you had only existed in order to help people digest their pastries better. Nothing too fancy. Yet, for Levi, you had spent days collecting some of the chamomile outside your house, you had tried drying red forests fruits, hell you had even tried making jasmine tea for him.

And for what?

Maybe the look on his face when you'd present him with a new tea blend was all the satisfaction you could use. Actually, that was the only thing it should be; the happiness of a service worker as their costumer enjoyed consuming their product, the fact that it made them come back, maybe the fact that despite not liking sweets they welcomed your pastries without objection.

But it wasn't just that. You knew, your brother knew, maybe even Levi knew and he pitied you.

You had fallen in love with Captain Levi. You had tried your best to supress it, to put it in a box, lock it and dig a hole twenty feet under the ground and bury it so light wouldn't see it again. Him and you weren't possible and you were more than aware ever since the very first day. Still, you had found him becoming so familiar to you in the little times you had seen him that you felt like you couldn't help yourself.

"Are you going to stand there for long? The kettle has been whistling for a long while now."

"Uhh, yes, yeah."

Shaking your thoughts out of your head you fixed your eyes on the whistling kettle. You took another step closer to it and since there wasn't any heat protecting glove in sight, you grabbed the length of your apron in your hand before wrapping your palm around the mettalic handle. You poured the hot water carefully into a large porcelain teapot, through the small almond tea brew that you had previously arranged onto the infuser.

"Don't have that face..."

"What face?" You asked nonchalantly and places the teapot on a tray, right next to the small pot of apple pie.

"You know.. the face... the I'm sad about my boyfriend face."

"I don't have that face." You snarled "and he's not my boyfriend. Shut up before he can hear you."

Walking to a glass shielded cupboard, you slid the little door open and grabbed a matching cup to the teapot, setting it too onto the tray. From the corner of your eye you watched as your brother sighed and shook his head disappointed in you, but you brushed it off quickly; you just wanted to give Levi his order, you'd have all day to endure your brother's teasing after the man of your desire left.

"Hello"

Levi's eyes shimmered as light splashed onto them; the little blue circles on the outer edge of his irises shone a different hue today, one that didn't accentuate the darkness of his eyebags, though it still was enigh to merge with how soft his time was to you.

"Hi" You pressed your lips together "here you go, almond tea and your apple pie."

"Ah, ye-yes, the apple, the apple pie."

Was he, by any chance, stuttering?

You glanced to the left and then to the right, then back to Levi again. Pressing your hand to his forehead didn't seem like a good idea, mostly because you respected his personal space and also because the man was quite fond of being obsessed over cleaningness and maybe your hands weren't clean enough for his standards. Or it could also be that you were overall too awestruck to do anything other than lean down closer to him, bum popping in the air, as your knees remained unbent.

"Is everything alright Captain?"

Had you been dense, you would have missed the way his eyes were magnetized by the action, and consequentially get back to your standing position. Levi quickly cleared his throat though and closed his eyes, brushing the happening off as if it had never happened.

"Yes, I'm, I'm good, just a little" He cough again "Isn't it a bit warm here?"

"Ah, yes, I mean it is a furnace. Anyways I'll leave you to your book."

"No you're welcome to-" Levi begun and his hand traced over the black leather cover of the book.

"What was that?"

"I said, you're welcome. And call me Levi, cut the shitty formalities."

As you turned on your heels to walk to your brother, you felt your heart skip not one, but numerous beats. Quickly, you left the tray on the counter before your brother and rushed to the back room of the store, desperate to hide the embarrassing joy you were feeling. You squatted down on a dim lit spot just behind a few sacks of flour and buried your face in your hands.

Nonetheless you sighed, setting your gaze at one sack of flour before you that was filled to the top, hoping the the neat white color would help you calm down. Why did it have to even be like this? With a deep sigh you put your hands over your knees and unbent them, your body willingly standing up as you wiped your eyebrow with the flat of your palm.

Your head was probably throbbing just as much as your heart.

You felt guilty that you experienced such emotions in the first place. You had been too eager to wear your heart upon your sleeve when it came to Levi that you ignored that most of your interactions rolled as awkwardly as this one.

Maybe that's why he stuttered.

Maybe he even had someone he had feelings for just like you had for him.

Maybe..

Maybe...

Maybe....

You kept repeating the word inside your head until it became a mushy pile of goo that stuck to a crevice of your mind and prevented it from functioning correctly. All you knew was that you had to finish baking the weekly amount loaves the scouts had ordered you. And that's what you set as your task. With your uncle nowhere near the store at this -ungodly for him- hour you walked to the enormous tin in which he kept the dough you were looking for.

All you had to do was shape it into loaves and bake it. Easy and soul mending.

It should be something that could keep your mind off of him for a long while.

.....

The sun shone a bright orange as it spilled from the small windows of the room, bathing the the enormous amount of loaves you had baked as they rested inside the deckles you had placed them in. The warmth of this evening was beyond bearable and combined with the heat of the furnace you could feel your cheeks going numb to the excessive heat.

A droplet of sweat run down your forehead, lukewarm as it was when it formed to the top of your hairline, freshening up a little ribbon over your skin. With the back of your hand covered by the edge of your apron you wiped it away, leaving your skin complaining over the harsh, erratic movement.

"I think your boyfriend is waiting for you."

You turned your head to your left when you heard the tomed down voice. Your brother, was leaning against doorframe of the workshop, his hands crossed and pressed sturdily across his chest, his hip pressing against the casing of the door. There was this warm expression all over his face, that little teasing glimmer that flickeres in his eyes as the light of the sunset painted him orange as well.

"For the last time," You furrowed your brows and looked away. "he's not my boyfriend. And he's free to stay here for as long as he wants."

"Please with how slow things between him and you are going I'm going to have to ask him to ask for your hand in marriage."

Just what you needed.

"Beau. No."

"(Y/n). Yes." He smiled at you once you rolled your eyes "Anyways, he's waiting to help you get the loaves to the Scouts Headquarters. Because I have a date to attend to."

You didn't speak, you didn't even throw your brother a glance as the words left his mouth. You simply furrowed your brows together painfully over your shut eyes and puckered your lips. Your hands reached to your bum, wiping down any residue of flour to the pleats of your skirt ithout giving it a second thought.

"Fine. I hope this isn't one of your match making tricks."

Your brother smiled and tucked a stray strand of hair behind his ear. You already knew what his answer was going to be.

"Cross my heart and hope to die."

....

The big wooden table that hung from the balcony above it read "Uncle Ben's leather goods" in a big, cursive font, and by the looks of it, Levi had stopped by to retrieve something commissioned for him by his squad. You curiously peaked once or twice inside the store, as you leaned over the cart, the tips of your fingers rubbing lines along the thick wooden borders.

Had you taken the shortcut you had suggested the trip to the headquarters was no more than ten minutes. This evening though, since you were accompanied by the captain himself, taking a shortcut wasn't exactly a preferable option in your agenta, thus, you hadn't insisted on it.

When he finally exited the store with a tote bag hanging from his shoulder you realised you hadn't spent a lot of time waiting for him, still the little commotion in your heart begged you to cease every single moment you had alone with him

"Okay, time to head off to the headquarters" You said with a soft smile.

Levi hummed in response and walked to the back side of the cart. With steady hands he pressed onto it, his fingers flexing onto the metallic handles. He hung his head low, his shaggy bangs waving over his eyes a little before he turned his head again to look at you. Gunmetal orbs fell into yours with serenity, blinking ever so slowly.

"You seem to be into reading, Levi." You said, your eyes being the first ones to look away.

"Ah, yes, I couldn't enjoy reading in the past thus I am doing so now."

You found yourself in loss of words for the thousandth time this evening. You didn't know what exactly you had to say to that, seeing you had heard rumors about him being a former thug, though in your best judgment that would be an intensitive subject to bring up. Immediately, your brother came to your mind, he would not hesitate to pester you for days you if you didn't make any progress over crush now, would he?

Maybe asking for his favorite literature genre was the way to go with this.

"What's your favorite gen-"

"Can I tell you somethin-"

Levi blinked his eyes rapidly into yours and you giggled slightly at his confused face. The ravenette stared back and forth between the two of you with puckered lips, wondering who shall speak first.

"Go ahead Levi."

"The almond tea you're serving me is rather good. Care to tell me how to make it on my own?"

A shy smile came over you, still you felt the need to conceal it. You could see the headquarters peaking from the other buildings in the background, the cobblestone color of the building contrasting the violet of the sky only ever so slightly. You didn't have that much time left with Levi and that was a fact, so now wasn't the time to get all shy.

"I'll bring you a jar next week then. Just a small one though, or not!"

"No?" Levi said and cocked an eye brow at you.

His eyes were fixated on you again, his features bearing a soft expression that you couldn't exactly pinpoint, still it spread a little warmth inside you. Instinctively you run your eyes over your outfit. The only thing you found was as perfect as it was when you left your house in the morning was the top of your dress. You slightly fixed the cord that was holding the corset part of your dress tied, tucking it into where it had escaped from.

You didn't let him know you caught him staring, but by the way he was looking at you, maybe he didn't have a certain someone among the scouts.

Or were you just seeing what you wanted?

"Of course not, I'm not about to lose a regular at my store."

"A regular huh?" Levi questioned with that nasal undertone of his

You looked at the sky before you went to answer him. The evening breeze smeeled wondrously, mixed with the mouth watering aroma of the slightly season with garlic and poppy seeds bread, you could even say it was heavenly. The air wasn't as heavy and awkward as you had expected, rather, Levi was in a somewhat playful mood if you could place it correctly.

It struck you that he might have been like that because he was feeling the change in the atmosphere as well.

"Would you like to be more than a regular?" You paused "shoot never mind that"

"What was that? More than a regular?"

"Yes, a super regular!" You smiled slyly.

"If you keep spurting entertaining crap like that more often I might be tempted to become one."

Without realising it, you found yourself gaining confidence over the little territory you had conquered in the captain's mind. Every step you took that lead ultimately led you to the Headquarters was a proof of that. Levi seemed to be as bummed as you, he seemed to be flustered like a teen whose date had ended, you could see it now for some reason.

And when it came to you, your feet weren't shaky anymore, your voice wasn't the squeaky polite voice you'd put on for strangers. This was the first time in a long while where you felt like you could be yourself in Levi's presence and you couldn't help but hope there would be more instances like this.

"Here we are."

"Yes, here we are." Levi sighed, turning his face to look at you.

"I uhm, I'll help you get those in."

"No need to, I'll have the brats sweat for it, I haven't tortured them in a long while."

You couldn't help but laugh a little at that comment, though the bubbling sound died down immediately, bowing before the reality of your current situation. Your stroll around Trost had come to end. What an unfair way for your little walk to die.

Nevertheless your chest rose and fell as you looked at Levi, your heart pulping hard inside your chest. Heat rushed just under your skin, stinging you in millions of places at once as you contemplated on what to say next. You were going to speak, and very soon at that, just omge you found the words to do so.

"I'd like to see you again." You spoke, though you doubted this was the right choice of words.

"You see me every single week."

"Not like that!"

"Tch, then?" He clicked his tongue.

Your stomach turned. It twisted and turned and tied itself in a horrid knot; you couldn't just not panic. At his cocked brow, the little press of his lips, the way his eyes remained narrowed as the glared at you. On no, this was your doom for being bold before, wasn't it?

"Like this, but, without the bread."

You didn't miss the way his eyes softened at your words, frankly because it was a rather beautiful sight. The little creases of his eyes overlaoped each other, narrowing his gaze with a mellow tint that was gone as soon as you blinked. It only made you feel like you shouldn't blink again as to not miss his small reactions.

"Hmh, that can be arranged."

Honestly, you couldn't wait until then.

Taglist: @sasageyowrites @ackermans-freedom-inc @melancholicmonologue @ladyofpandemonium @levisbrat25 @hawkssnugget @berrijam @lzrers @levisbrat25 @callmepromise