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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

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“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.

#harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fan fic #harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles one shot #harry styles oneshot #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #enemies to lovers #dwd!harry #idk I always feel like theres more I need to put in here but idk #pls leave feedback and reblog

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madtickler39 · 3 years

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Welcome to Club T’s

One of my fan favorites from the old blog, enjoy:

One could look at Emily and assume her life was perfect A nice home, well off family that was well known in California. Naturally blonde hair, a petite little figure and long legs all around a smile that could turn a man to stone. Going to movie premieres, sports events and mingling with LA bigwigs, Emily was never long without something to do. Oh dont get me wrong, Emily never complained. She loved her family, loved her friends, loved her job. She’d never complain for a second. But still something was missing. That’s why Emily found herself where she was, in a taxi outside a new and mysterious club in downtown LA. She stared at the door for a long time before the driver finally asked “Are you gettin out or what?” Emily came back to reality and paid the driver, and stepped out of her car as confidently as she could. What she couldn't sell her blue dress and black heels could. She walked into the club like it was nobody’s business, and was an instant bombshell to the eligible young men at Club T’s. What made her walk into this particular club that night? Well, to understand that, we have to go back a little bit. Emily had a friend named Stephen, and one time not too long ago Stephen did something she couldn’t get out of her head. He tickled her. It wasn’t her first time being tickled, not by a longshot. For some reason, the feeling she got when he finally stopped kept coming back to her head like a drug, needing to come forward again and refusing any lesser pleasure. She had no trouble finding a man to do anything she wanted, but for some reason this one request proved elusive to her charms. After a brief search on the internet, she found out that club T’s was the place to find what she wanted. It wasn’t easy to find out how to get in, the people she was here to see were very secretive. The main club was just like any other club. The music was too loud, the drinks were too expensive and you couldn’t see or move anywhere. After a few minutes of moving around she found the specific corner that housed the VIP section of the club, she said the codeword to the bouncer, and with a smirk he let her in. It was the look a wolf gives a deer after a day without food, and it unsettled her. Inside, the VIP area was another world. The clothes were different, the lights were a bit brighter, and you could hear yourself over the music. The men were dressed in anything from suits to T-shirts while the girls were wearing some pretty revealing clothing, anything that exposed the belly, shorts, mini skirts and few of them wore heels. They wore colored wristbands, green yellow and red. Green was an open invitation, yellow required an ask, and red meant not to approach. Emily had a yellow wristband, fastened around her ankle like the website advised. There was more seating space than at any normal club here, couches and chairs everywhere. The dance floor had some people, but others were chasing each other around the floor, and in a couch by the corner a man had a captive girl in his lap. Her hands were bound and her feet were in his lap. As he grabbed the toe of her sock, her bound hands came up to her face to conceal her smile and she shook her head. He grinned evilly and slowly pulled the sock off, revealing her bare foot. At the edges of the dance floor were a few suspended cages, each with a girl inside and a person outside sticking a feather duster in. Emily asked the bartender “What’s all that about?” A cute redhead in a black corset said “Those girls work here. The customers pay to use the feather dusters for a time. They can also pay to remove clothing or lower the cages. It breaks the ice for the newcomers. Speaking of, is this your first time?” “Why yes” said Emily looking around. “Is this actually for real?” The bartender, whose nametag read “Sam” said “It sure is. I can lock you in that cage if you’re too nervous to get started on your own?” Emily blushed, and suddenly a voice came from behind her that said smoothly “Sam, hasn’t your boss told you not to mess with the new talent? Or do I have to tickle you for your tips again?” Sam blushed now, and backed towards the liquor shelf nervously. Emily asked the tall, suit clad stranger “What?” He said “Oh you haven’t heard? If you find their service in any way lacking, you have to give them the oppurtunity to get their tips tickled back into them. That’s why she wears a corset, her pits are her worst spot.” She hissed “Damon!” So you weren't kidding on the website” Emily asked. “This really is a tickle club.” Damon said “Oh yes, but if you want to see come by when Sam brings my bottle of Dom. She needs a good tickling to earn her tips back after that hiss…” Sam gulped. She’d done it now. Damon slapped down a 20 and said “Whatever the lady likes is on me.” Sam fixed Emily a drink and grabbed a champagne bottle, but Emily hesitated as Sam left. Sam looked over her shoulder and said “You comin? This is what you wanted right?” Emily finished her liquid courage, and followed Sam to a door labelled “Barefoot Room” Upon entering, Sam said “It’s quite literal, no shoes allowed inside.” Sam quickly kicked off her pumps and went inside, and Emily removed her peep toed heels to join her. “You learn quickly Emily” Damon smiled as he smiled at Emilys little feet as she flexed her toes “Im just amazed” Emily replied blushing as she felt Damon's gaze on her toes “Theres nothing to feel scared about Emily" Damon smiled as he took a sip of his drink. “so tell me what brings you here”” Emily took a deep breath, and then she started “It all started when my friend Stephen tickled my feet a few months ago. It felt...well I guess how a normal person feels being tickled. Sure, the laughing was fun but when it was happening I just wanted him to stop after a few seconds...afterwards I couldn’t get it out of my head. I tried forgetting it, distracting myself. Anytime I was alone with my thoughts, I thought of that sensation and how badly I wanted it back. So I found this place...and here I am.” “And here you are.” Damon said. He saw Emily look down nervously and said “Emily, come sit by me.” She came and sat down next to him hesitantly, and drew her feet behind her knees, where Damon couldn’t see them. It was all she could do not to blush. He asked her “Sam needs to be tickled if she wants her tips from me, where should she be tickled?” “Her underarms” Emily replied without hesitation. Sam shut her eyes and raised her arms, beginning to breathe heavily. She begged “Please be gentle.” Damon looked and raised an eyebrow “you answered that quickly for a newbie; I think we may have a little sadist here. Sam, I think we should let your new friend here do the honors” Emily looked nervous again, and said “You want me to tickle her?” Damon nodded silently and said “If you'd prefer I can tickle her. The whole time you watch her suffer knowing that it's coming for you next…” She was up in an instant, and facing Sam directly. Sam felt her breathe and winced, that gave Emily an inexplicable pleasure. She pounced. Emily dug her nails into Sam’s underarms, and Damon smirked as she screamed. Sam was able to hold her arms up for a few seconds, but within 15 seconds they came down reflexively. Sam laughed like crazy but Emily wouldn't let up. Sam tried to turn away, but Emily kept at it, and pulled Sam closer. The punishment became a wrestling match soon as the girls came to the ground, with Emily straddling her hips. Emily leaned forward and pinned the poor bartender’s wrists over her head and blew on her underarms, which drove sam into a mad fit of giggles. She begged “HEHEHEHE Stop teasing!” Emily couldn't tell you why she said this, but she shouted “This is club tease!” Before she could sink her nails back into Sam’s smooth hollows, Emily burst out laughing “HAHAHAHAHA!” And lost her grip. Sam scrambled out from under her, and went to Damon, who was holding Emily’s ankle, with his other hand gently stroking her sole. She giggled gently with each stroke of his hands. He patted Sam on the butt and said “That’s enough sweetie. Call me when you get off work. For now I have some soft, pretty feet to break in.” This comment made Emily blush, and wiggle her baby blue toes. As Sam walked out of the room and grabbed her shoes, Emily looked down, anticipating the tickling. The tickling was slow, methodical. He was really tickling her brain more than her sole. Reminding her that he could do what he want, control her body against her will. He could make her laugh whenever he pleased. All it took was a foot and a finger. He had the finger, and the foot may as well have been a plaything of his. It was in his grasp and she wasn’t getting it out. Emily remained on all fours(or threes, not counting the foot that belonged to Damon at the moment), and giggled when Damon wanted her to, otherwise she just accepted the breaks and caught her breath. Sometimes she would look back at Damon, nearly melting him with that forced smile. Other times she looked away and tried to just take it. During a break, Damon rubbed her sole with his palm and commented “I see you took the website’s advice and got a pedicure. How recently?” Emily giggled “A couple hours ago hehehe.” she heard Damon inhale deeply and felt his lips rub along her sole now. His lips tickled ever so slightly. She giggled “hehehehe are you smelling my foot?” She read many of the men here also had foot fetishes, but never expected to find herself here tonight… He replied “You used a vanilla scented lotion. It’s my favorite.” “EEP!” She squealed, something had pinched the ball of her foot, and one look back at Damon licking his lips told the whole story. Could she really drive him so crazy with just her feet? This could add some fun to the tickling...but before she could finish that thought, her mind commanded her to laugh again. Emily fell flat on her belly as she felt a warm, wet sensation streak across her arch. She turned her head to the side to release peals of laughter, and started pounding the carpet with her fist. If Damon’s finger was mean, his tongue was just cruel. Emily was at once suffering and feeling an indescribable ecstasy. All she could do to cope was laugh, and between breaths beg “Hahahaha! Stahahahahap!” Emily got herself a momentary respite from Damon’s tongue, but only because he needed it to taunt her. His fingers returned to gently stroking her arches as he taunted “Oh you don’t want this to stop. If you did you’d pull your foot away. Look.” Emily flipped over and saw that his hand was open, only cupping her heel. He tickled with all his fingers slowly, and she reflexively pulled back a few inches, then paused. Emily hesitated a few seconds, it tickled so bad but there was just nothing like it. Her foot slowly slid back into his grip, and his hand closed around her ankle. She gasped, what had she done? Damon taunted “See? I knew you liked it!” And he tickled her sole all over again with his fingers, making her laugh even louder, wondering why she gave her foot to him. He lifted her foot up to his mouth, but there was resistance from her tight little dress. Damon lowered her foot and said “Emily, your dress is lovely but if you want to have more fun, it may be best to change.” Emily blushed again and said “I don't have a change of clothes.” Damon began stroking her instep and commented “Not to worry. There is a private changing room in here with spare clothes, better for our activities.” Damon helped her up, and opened a wall panel that led to a cozy changing room. Emily removed her dress and placed it on a hanger, then found a pair of little pink shorts and a white tshirt to put on. The shirt was awfully short, and only came down to her ribs, leaving her midriff vulnerable. The shorts were quite short, revealing her long tanned legs. She emerged a little sheepishly, but Damon gushed over her, making her blush for the umpteenth time tonight. She came up to the couch where he sat and requested “Where do you want me?” She felt his eyes combing every inch of exposed skin, searching for a spot to make her squeal. She felt uneasy, but exhilarated. Damon grabbed her by the hand and sat her on the couch next to him. He draped her legs over his...and once she breathed out he lobster clawed her knees. Emily shrieked, breaking down in helpless laughter as she tried to sit up and reach his hands. After a few moments of squeezing her legs and knees, Damon began to gently scribble his fingertips all along her thighs and up towards her hips. Emily’s laughter went up in pitch as Damon reached her hips and pinched, and he licked his lips looking at that bare midriff. Damon gave Emily a break to catch her breath, and breathing heavily she sighed “hehehe that was fun.” Damon had an evil smirk on his face, she asked him “What is that look for?” Damon said “I’m going to have that cute tummy of yours next. But I’m going to give you a choice, my tongue or my hands?” Emily’s eyes bugged out, and she couldn’t possibly choose between tortures for a moment. She thought about her feet, and his tongue was much worse there. She answered “Hands.” Damon smirked, had she chosen wrong? What was he playing at? She didn’t have time to think any further as ten fingers began wiggling along her midriff, and her tummy exploded with ticklish sensations. She let out a loud belly laugh, and cursed as her hands wanted nothing more than to seize his and make it stop. Despite this desperate need, her mind would not allow them, making them twitch up and down her sides in a comical fashion. The game changed utterly when Damon managed to wiggle a finger into her navel, making Emily scream like a banshee before breaking down in frantic laughter. She tried to get him off of there, but her hands were swatted away by his free hand. This was almost as bad as her toes, or that tongue! Maybe she should have let him use his tongue after all… After a minute or so of her navel being explored and prodded, Emily couldn’t take anymore. Her begs became more desperate, and Damon heard it in her voice. She cried loudly “Uncle! Hahahahahaha! Please! Mercy! Hahahaha!” Damon stopped rather quickly, but Emily didn’t manage to stop giggling for another minute. He rubbed her belly during this time, and at last she recovered. She propped herself up on her elbows saying “That was wicked...I’ve never felt anything like it before.” Damon smirked, and said “I bet not.” Before they could say anything else, a blonde woman and a brunette with golden brown hair came into the room dancing with each other, kicking their shoes off as they entered. They plopped on the couch opposite Damon and Emily. The blonde said “I told you if we danced Damon would get us a snack!” Emily covered her face nervously as she blushed like a teenager, and would have curled into a ball had Damon not held her knees. The brunette asked “Who’s the tickle toy?” Damon said evenly “Girls, this is Emily. Emily, that is Shay, and Blair. Two tickle slaves of mine, who need to remember what happens when they don’t use their manners.” Damon continued “Emily is new, and I think she has had enough for one night. Blair, why don’t you tie Shay’s arms over her head?” They got to work, enjoying themselves and clearly under the influence a bit. Emily asked “So what, just like that we’re done?” Damon smirked and said “For tonight, after I do one quick thing. If you want another session I’ll see to it that you can contact me. Sit tight.” Damon got up and tested Shay’s bonds, who was standing on her tiptoes in the middle of the room, suspended from a chain. Damon produced two more cuffs and said “Your turn Blair.” She giggled as she assumed position for her restraints. Once they were restrained Damon instructed Emily “Give me your sole” holding his hand out. She placed an ankle in his hand, and he produced a pen. He slowly and painstakingly wrote something on Emily’s sole, but she couldn’t tell. All she could do was laugh and scream until he finished. It felt like an eternity of that ball point pen stroking her arches, but it was bliss for her. When he finally finished, he pecked each of her soles goodnight and she left for the evening. She inspected her sole before putting her shoes back on, and it read Damon’s number and address.

#tickle club #ticklish #ticklish feet #Tickling #ticklee #tickler #club Ts #ticklish belly #belly tickling #Damon the ler

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extravalgant · 3 years

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the seven main schools (+ astral & shadow) as flowers

NOTE: i did not dive too deep into researching for this and most of the information i got for this post i got from this site . please dont come after me if i get a meaning wrong IM TRYING MY BEST!!! moving on

this is going to be a LONG POST so sit tight

myth - clematis (also known as traveller’s joy, old man’s beard)

i chose clematis mainly for its meaning: representing artifice, ingenuity and mental beauty. i think part of being a conjurer means that the world is only as big as you make it, and part of it is utilizing your imagination to its fullest extent. mental beauty and ingenuity go hand in hand with being creative, but artifice, in this flower symbolism, means to be cunning or be deceitful. i also think this comes from cyrus drake also being your teacher, which means he would teach in a style that would want you to exploit the weaknesses of the creatures that you summon (that being, calling their true name) in order for them to do your bidding.

“Myth dwells between Fire and Ice, for that is where the shadows lie, and Myths are the shadowy forms of thought made real.”

storm - gladiolus (also known as a sword lily)

urgh.... storm was such a hard school to choose a flower for @_@ according to the wizard101 site storm is also based on creativity, but since we already had that sort of meaning attached to myth, i decided to go with the next best thing which is that gladiolus represents strength, strong character, honor and moral integrity. i feel like it’s pretty well known fact that storm is a hitting school, and a pretty well known one at that - their reputation as a power school is pervasive through all wizarding circles. i feel like this is also where a diviner’s sense of pride comes from - being able to one-hit ko enemies and brandish your power proudly.

amazingly enough, the wizard101 site also addresses this, saying that, “the Storm School will train its student wizards to do a lot of damage. Storm Wizards have the ability to unleash high amounts of damage from an early level, which is good, but they place too much emphasis on power, and therefore suffer in terms of accuracy.”

placing too much emphasis on power... very interesting indeed

death - papaver (poppy)

death was ALSO a super hard school to pick a flower for. i debated between the dracula, the poppy, and the spider lily before deciding to settle with the poppy. I chose poppies in particular because “Poppies have long been used as a symbol of sleep, peace, and death: Sleep because the opium extracted from them is a sedative, and death because of the common blood-red color of the red poppy in particular.” source

I FEEL AS IF THE SPIDER LILY WOULD HAVE BEEN TOO EASY OF A CHOICE but i wanted to encompass all the meanings that death has and has been associated with. some people associate death with peace (at being in a “”better place””), and some people sometimes to describe it as “sleeping” to a younger audience with no death awareness. also heres a nice little excerpt from the w101 site: “Death is about ending and closure. All things pass eventually, and time cannot be held back forever. Wizards devoted to Death Magic, known as Necromancers, understand this fact about everything around them and strive to face it without fear.”

ice - magnolia

as soon as i saw this flower and its description it was PERFECT for ice. magnolias represent longevity and perseverance, due to the fact that magnolias are believed to have existed even at the beginning of time. the ice schools main theme is about persistance - which is to say, that if you’re patient and determined, you will collect the fruits of your labor in the end.

the school page even says this, noting that “The Ice School will train its student wizards to take high amounts of damage and survive.” To thaumaturges, it is simply about surviving to see the end of the battle, and that’s what their play style involves. both magnolias and thaumaturges have that in common : persist and survive.

fire - ixora (also known as jungle flame, flame of the woods)

it was also hard choosing a plant for fire, seeing as so many plants can be described as “passionate” in a symbolic sense. it was between this and orange tulips, but i felt that both the names “jungle flame” and “flame of the woods” both fit fire’s theme. that being said, ixora’s represent passion - the core of fire’s development and description. it is the “bright, burning flame of raw emotion sweeping over everything.” (w101)

fire wizards mainly utilize damage over time spells, which reminds me that a frog boiling in a pot will leap immediately out of the water if its too hot, but will stay until it dies if the water’s temperature reaches steadily. while fire’s general message are that it may consume everything it touches, and how pyromancers are quick to anger and tempestuous, fire plays the longer game by slow roasting their enemies until it is too late for them.

balance - cosmos

when i saw this flower and its meanings there was literally no chance any other flower could compare omg

balance is described as finding the equality of everything and harmony. they are described as broad-minded, taught to be considerate of all things, as well as their own place in the world they live in. cosmos, in this case, represent order, peace, modesty and harmony -- all things which are important to a balance wizard. balance thrives in the company of others, simply because it was made in mind to help others in the heat of battle. “The Balance School will train its student wizards to be effective in group play.” (w101)

however as a result, they may appear as stand-offish and impassive, unable to choose a side or make a choice. such is life when you’re raised to consider all factors of every choice you make - every decision feels heavy.

life - achillea (also known as yarrow)

named after the greek hero achilles, legends would say that his soldiers would treat their wounds with this. source

i chose achillea for life simply for the fact that it represents healing and protection, as well as it being used it being a versatile plant used to treat a variety of maladies or sicknesses - it’s been used as a medicinal plant for a long time across the world.

life embodies “the spirit, the force of awareness and existence. It is about constant growth and movement.” (w101). theurgists are described as having simple pleasures in life, in revelling in the idea of the living, breathing, planet around you. it utilizes the song of creation, using it to weave life where there was none previously. it definitely has powerful roots in the canon storyline - i just wish it was utilized more through its play style.

(astral) star - aster (also known as starwort, frost flower)

ok i dont have a deep meaning for this im sorry . i mainly chose aster simply because “aster” is derived from the Greek word “astron”, which means “star”, and because of the shape of its flowers. pretty simple reason but ill try my best to do it justice

however, aster is represented by patience and elegance -- star magic may be a lesser form of sun magic, simply because it is meant to power yourself rather than your spells. i think theres something inherently elegant about an aura wrapping itself around your figure, bending to the whim of your spells, as it both enhances your health or your spells.

(astral) sun - datura (also known as devil’s trumpet)

Datura symbolizes power and caution. It is a powerful and deadly plant, but also a major religious and cultural symbol.

i chose datura’s for sun because sun is all about power -- datura is highly poisonous and very dangerous to be around. the main deal of the sun school is that they use spells to make their own stronger - it has the “power to endure, power to persevere, and power to change”. we don’t get much of a canon explanation for how sun magic works outside of battles, but i imagine that you have to be careful with sun magic, because as we know - absolute power corrupts absolutely. aint that neat

(astral) moon - protea

protea’s represent ingenuity, diversity, transformation and courage. a big part of moon magic is that it is all about change. changing your spells, your body, your thoughts -- it is symbolized by the moon because it goes through many changes (the tides, the phases of the moon, etc).

i feel as if moon magic might be one of the harder magics to master out of all the astral schools - the transformation into something else may not come as easy as star auras, or that it simply may be too hard on the caster in question, having to change their physical appearances and battle tactics to fit into a new one.

shadow - rhododendron

rhododendron’s represent temptation, caution and danger.

despite how pretty it looks, the stems, leaves, and flowers can be poisonous to humans and pets if ingested. i feel as if that describes shadow perfectly -- the pleasant sight of these pretty flowers is enough to entice a person (wizard) forward, but you must be careful with how you handle this plant, or else you will end up facing dire consequences. (backlash)

shadow magic as a whole can be very tempting to those who seek it -- offering power that scales above others. but it is an advanced magic, and those who seek to play with it often end up paying the price with their lives (in this case, morganthe was crushed underneath the weight of power that shadow gave her). shadow can give you an upper hand, however, if used right -- and the wizard, for the most part, is using it right.

shadow is mainly a cautionary tale of not playing with higher, advanced, magics with the wrong intentions.

#wizard101 #w101 #girl how do i even tag this #i just like to play around with meta xd #also these are just some of my opinions please dont come at me #however if you disagree id love to see a post or explanation in the comments >:333 #i simply love... flower language and assigning symbolic meanings to plants and flowers #this took so long to type up . please look at it . the fruits of my labors #long post #LETS HOPE I DIDNT FORGET A SCHOOL OMG #if someone already did a post like this i will die straight up

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sydneyshipsstuff · 4 years

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so uh last night at like 4 am i couldnt sleep, decided to walk my dog, and came up with this bad boy. It’s a rough draft, though. um @professional-benaddict read it and told me to post it, so whatever rafni says goes.

-Little! Peter with like everyone lmao (platonically), but main pairing is Tony x Peter. everyone is 18+ and Littles are known. but yeah, I call this “uncanonically Canon AU” because it follows canon character tropes (except Peter).

----------------

so i LOVE the doctor trope w stephen and tony to death, like probably a lil too much, but hear me out

--canon tony and the avengers with not canon (aka powerless) little peter

--im thinking how they met is before peter became classified as a little, he was smart smart. so, he still gets the internship, but a real one this time.

--hes hanging out with the other interns when he feels himself regress. he freaks and goes to hide in a bathroom or something

--he runs into (probably pepper??) someone and they help him get out of the tower because he's obviously very vulnerable

--they (pepper?) take him to the hospital to get tested and find out hes a high care little. once they find out peter freaks out because omg he cant work like this

--(pepper?) assures him that they will figure it our, but with no CG, and just for plot sake, he also is living alone at this point so they dont feel comfortable sending him home, so he stays overnight, at least, in the hospital

--(pepper?) goes to talk to tony himself about this since hes the one who chose and hired the interns. tony isnt quite sure what to do because peter is one of the best in their group

--(pepper?) suggests that he go have a one on one talk with peter and see what the boy wants to do with his future, and also meet with the doctors to see what they think is best for his future

--now, tony has met peter a few times, and the kid is pretty cool, but he never really cared about him (harsh, but canon tony is pretty reserved so yuh) so, when he goes into the hospital room to talk with him, hes mentally preparing to never see peter again

--but, when he walks in, he sees peter sat on a cot carefully coloring in an avengers coloring book, and his entire aura is different and /adorable/

--as if he wasnt already kinda done for, when peter notices he's there, he looks up, eyes blown wide and a kid-like face on full of awe

--he sits on the end of the bed and they simply stare at each other before peter finally gets the courage to ask why tony is there, stuttering through it like an adorable mess

--tony freaks out, because as good as peter is, he planned on letting peter down, but now that hes here, all he wants is to see the boy.

--instead he smooths his nervousness and easily asks about how the boy is doing. he asks if peter has a CG, and predicably, peter just sadly shakes his head

--anyways i dont really know how this part would be worded, and it probably wouldnt happen in just one day, but eventually tony asks peter if he wants tony to take care of him

--peter is a cutie and accepts, again dont really have this part planned out, im akward when it comes to writing about the adopting of a little

--he goes with tony and since he lives in the tower, he also gets the avengers as glorified CGs. now this is the part i LOVE

***added part by Rafni:

"I’d imagine that Peter would just be kept in the hospital, like he doesn’t need any meds nor saline so he doesn’t even have a drip nor is he hooked up to any monitors. He is just there in the hospital pyjamas colouring and waiting for someone to take care of him🥺👀"

And since there’s no medical concerns (anymore) the nurses would have more time to just chat with Peter and make sure he is like mentally taken care of 🌸🌸

---

tony stark- he's obviously the main man and does all the main caring. hes the one who sleeps with peter and makes sure he gets food, and plans the days. he also sometimes will hand make little gadgets (safe ofc) to occupy peter. he gets peter little engineering/inventing kits and will hold back any groans he has as peter hits his leg with a plastic hammer and screwdriver. he also is the one who is ALWAYS there, when he cries, when he's happy, when he's sad.

thor- he lets peter play with his hair, and even lets the boy snuggle, and sometimes even chew on, mjolnir (because of course peter would be worthy)

steve rogers- he lets peter look at and hold the shield. one day he finds the boy curled like a cat dosing on the inside of it

natasha- she speaks in russian to him, and when he goes outside to the park, shes there making sure no one disturbs him

wanda+sam (i had an idea for them when i originally thought of this, but i cant remember it now :/)

bucky- he lets peter also mess with his hair, although more rare than thor, but he does let peter suck on his metal fingers when hes really small, and will scratch peters scalp with it, the metal scratching much better than normal skin. also if he ever gets a fever, the cold of the arm feels amazing on his forehead

bruce- not strictly canon since hes more sciency than doctor, but i imagine bruce is the one who does checkups and takes care of the meds when peter is sick

stephen- he doesnt do it often, plus he's not at the tower much, but hell do little harmless "magic" tricks to excite Peter and when peter gets grumpy, stephen will give him a little stress spell thing to calm peter down

peter quill- i imagine hes the one who is down to do lots of fun stuff, but is also the most reckless towards the actions suited towards littles, getting a lot of scolding from tony. also, he has great taste in music, so when peter has bursts of energy, he'll bounce around the room dancing to old 80s music

rocket- hes the closest peters ever gonna get to a pet, and with lots of bribing from tony, rocket /occasionally/ lets peter pet him and feed him "treats", sometimes peter will ask rocket to do a trick like jump or spin, but rocket with always decline...at first. peters trademark pouts do the trick because either rocket will concede and hurt his pride, or tony will see and threaten rocket into making his little boy happy. its always worth it to see the happy little squirms and claps

gamora- she's the resident story teller. when its bedtime, she'll share her cool space stories, leaving out the gory/scarier aspects. it always does the trick as hes out in minutes. sometimes hell catch her and peter q engaging in loving activities (ie kissing, hugging, whatever), and he'll just giggle away, and as embarrassed as gamora gets, not being an openly affectionate person, she might just go to the extreme to hear the cute giggles out of the little boy

clint- hes pretty chill with peter. he also likes to play games with the boy, playing things like peek-a-boo when he's super small, or playing darts when he feels older. tony isnt /too/ happy about it, but its better than quill so he doesnt say anything.

pepper is there too because i love the idea of tony working away somewhere and pepper calling peter in, handing him a few sheets of paper, sometimes actual documents, sometimes just scratch paper to entertaim the boy, before asking peter to deliver them to tony. she always has a smile when peter eagerly nods with his whole body before running to the office to give tony the papers. it almost always ends with peter in his lap, but it /always/ ends in tony praising him, saying something along the lines of 'theres my little helper boy. look at you'

---

--on any particular day peter wakes up aged up, he doesn't even miss his old internship because this life is so much better, although on these days tony actually lets him help with some safer stuff in the lab with him

--also, they are still the avengers and still have to save the universe. tony leaves him in the care of Happy or Pepper, trusting them both to handle him. sometimes, it ends in disaster. sometimes, they are lucky enough to find happy laying on the couch, with a drooling little boy soaking his suit

--no matter how things end up, it never gets old being able to come home and cuddle up with the reason tony wants to save the universe.

--its no surprise peter is able to help the man just as much as tony helps him. tony stops locking himself up so late at night so he can put peter to bed and cuddle up. he stops drinking when he's stressed, instead finding his boy and reading a story to him. his hookups end, he wants to be there for peter all the time. he gets more work done, the added bonus of having a pretty little boy in his lap helping keep his mind on track.

--tony still has his canon issues, but having peter there makes everything a little more manageable. and when he eventually gets too old to be ironman, its okay, because his universe is lying in bed, a red pacifier in his mouth, and a family of superheroes softly arguing about who the boy loves most

--and despite tony being a narcissist, he knows this is not that, when he thinks that without a doubt he is peters favorite. after all, peter helped him see the good inside the bad

---

so uh yeah thats all i had to say. maybe in the future it will become an actual thing, idk. i still have so many projects im working on first. feel free to add whatever you want to it though !!

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stargirlrchive · 4 years

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Hi! Can I ask for angsty Specer Reid with reader working as a medic? They dont see each other lately, mostly because his gf avoiding him, because they are both stressed of work so every discussion end with fight so in the end reader is insecure of herself and not sure if she is good enough for him. She starts overwork herself more to improve her skills and satisfaction,forgetting about proper sleep and meals. And during their next fight she just pass out in front of him making him extremaly 1/2

“2/2 extremaly guilty and frustrated because being occupied by his own work and life he doesnt even notice struggles of someone who he dearly love and care for. Sorry for such long and detailed request! I hope it doesnt bother you! Thank you so much nad have a great day!”

Busy Schedules - Spencer Reid

masterlist ; request are open

author’s note: hi omg this request came really easy! i really hope this lived up to your expectations @ anon <3 and i hope you all enjoy it! im already working on another request so yay ❤️ i had said 3 fics this summer and this is my fourth one <3 cute!

disclaimer: a bit angsty!! and also talking about like reader not taking care of themselves all that great, like forgetting to eat && reader passes out so if that’s something that upsets you, please do not read it!! GIF NOT MINE

pairing: spencer reid x reader

wordcount: 1,976

You weren’t sure how long it had been since you had last seen your boyfriend, but before the argument that had transpired a few hours ago, you knew that it had been several days since the two of you last spoke. Both of your work schedules took up a large portion of your life and during the beginning of knowing Spencer that was a huge wedge in the two of you actually starting a relationship. But you two later on found out that it didn’t matter how long it took for you two to have time together, because when you did it was like magnets linking together. There was a domestic routine to your very busy lives when you were alone, like adding the final puzzle piece, everything just clicked.

Or it had been, the last few months having a decrease in employees and you having to pick up extra shifts at the hospital, had left you next to no time for yourself. And the time you did have off, Spencer was always away on a case. The last couple of times you were irritable from work, and just missing your boyfriend and it ended with the two of you arguing, it never failed.

You’d end up crying from frustration and exhaustion and Spencer would find himself nursing a bottle of beer with Morgan. Something he never did before, and it was quickly becoming a bit of a habit for him.

Your head was pounding as you woke up, it was eleven pm and your throat felt insanely dry. You looked for a cup of water, but of course there was none. You were never good at looking after yourself. Spencer always told you that and you felt tears well up in your eyes, you missed him so much. The crying mixed with the headache worsened everything you were feeling and you began to feel dizzy. If you were being honest you couldn’t remember the last time you had a proper meal, you had been surviving off granola bars and black coffee. That with working nearly 100 hours a week, it was definitely starting to take a toll on you.

You sat up and realized what had woken you up, there was knocking on your main door. You trudged slowly to your front door, still feeling dizzy as you tried to focus on the figure through the peephole. Even with your vision being blurry you could tell it was Spencer.

You quickly opened the door, which you shouldn’t have feeling the way you were. You felt all your blood rush down and felt a cold shiver run down you. You really needed to get something solid into your system. But with Spencer’s demeanor you could tell you wouldn’t be eating anything for some time, he was tense, eyes burning and you wanted to scream at him. It wasn’t even your fault the two of you were angry.

But you couldn’t even bring yourself to do it, you were so exhausted. You let him in and he brushed past you, pacing through your living room. “Spencer I’m really tired, can we just do this tomorrow? I don’t feel good.”

You knew he didn’t even hear you, he was in his head and from the smell of beer on him you could tell he had been drinking. He wasn’t drunk, but you knew he was a lightweight, so anything he drank would have him more there than here.

You walked towards him, mainly to get him to stop because his pacing was making you feel that the room you were in was spinning. But he moved from you just before you reached him and it caused you to stumble forward, barely catching yourself against the rest of the couch. You had to close your eyes to try and stabilize yourself. “Can you stop trying to push me away?”

“Well you do it, why can’t I?”

He was being childish, you both knew it. “Spencer I’m not doing that, if you feel that way trust me when I say it’s not intentional.”

You muttered something under your breath, you probably shouldn’t have but it slipped from your lips before you could stop yourself. “That’s not fair! I deserve days off with my friends as well!”

“I never said you didn’t, Reid.”

He knew you were angry, you only ever used his last name when you were, but he was angry too and he was glaring at you. “Well then it’s not fair for you to say that I decided to hang out with my friend over you.”

“Did you not? I think it’s been over a month since we’ve seen each other, you see them everyday and we both finally had a night off together and you decided to go out with them, people you see everyday! I feel like I’m not even part of your life anymore.”

Your breathing was labored and rough, you could feel yourself coming in and out of consciousness and could barely focus on the words leaving Spencer’s mouth before everything went black.

Spencer himself did not register what was leaving his mouth as he saw your body going limp, any bit of anger or alcohol leaving his system that very second. He instinctively caught you before your head hit the floor and he was frantically calling out your name. He hated how pale your skin went and how your lips weren’t as red as they normally were. You looked frail and he laid your head on the floor to go look for a cotton ball and rubbing alcohol, when he was looking around your apartment he noticed that the only dirty dishes in your dishwasher were coffee cups and there were scattered granola bar wrappers and nothing else. He sighed through his nose as he realized that’s all you’ve been eating. Much like him, people always said he never took care of himself but he was so good at taking care of you. And he knew you weren’t. He was frustrated at the thought of you two arguing during the little time you had for each other so he decided to go out with Derek and Emily instead. But he quickly realized he shouldn’t have, he really hadn’t seen you in a month, two days, thirteen hours and 54 minutes. And that turned into an argument. He wanted to slip into your apartment while you were asleep, lay down with you and cook you breakfast and have the two of you slip back into your routine. He knew all the frustration and anger was from not seeing each other and now you were passed out on your living room floor and he felt so guilty.

Guilty for not going over after a case, when he really could’ve, guilty for not checking in more. He was your boyfriend and he could’ve been doing more. You were still laying on the floor and he lifted your head onto his lap, brushing the alcohol filled cotton ball under your nose and letting a watery laugh leave his chest as he saw the color come back to you. He was so relieved he was able to wake you up, and since you didn’t hit your head he knew you didn’t need more medical attention. Plus he knew you’d hate it. “Honey, c’mon let me help you into bed.”

“My head feels so heavy.” It was a tiny whimper and Spencer felt his heart ache at how confused your voice was. His hand brushed softly against your cheek, you were colder than he liked for you to be, you sent him a smile, your eyes still closed.

You began to get up and Spencer helped you towards your bedroom, bringing you a cup full of water after he had laid you in bed. He let you slip back into bed as you sunk into the comforters around you. His fingers were lightly brushing through your hair, your face was scrunched up in discomfort and he knew if you didn’t get anything into your system, you’d wake up feeling worse.

He slipped out of your bedroom and walked into your kitchen, he found eggs and bread and decided that this would do. Toasting the bread and spreading butter on it as he waited for the egg to finish cooking. His thoughts causing him to spiral, he still felt so guilty.

As quickly as he could he had everything cooked and was once again walking back towards your bedroom. Your arms were spread out and your hair was in your face, your color fully restored. He left the food on the cabinet by your bed and slipped into bed with you once more, pulling you onto him. Your arms instinctively wrapped themselves around his chest and your face tucked into neck. You stilled in his arms and then quickly pushed yourself away, “Spencer?”

“Who else?” He laughed quietly, but the worry began to set in him to see your confused expression. “Are you okay? Do you remember anything?”

You looked sad and just slumped back into bed, staying close to him but not wrapping yourself around him, “Yes, but I thought it was just a bad dream.”

He took your arms and wrapped them around himself, bringing you in as close as he could as he pressed kisses to your forehead, which you had only just noticed was pounding. “You scared me out there.”

“I didn’t do it on purpose.”

Spencer laughed and began to rub small circles on your back, “What have I told you about making sure you eat breakfast and lunch? What if I wasn’t around and you would’ve hit your head, or you would’ve passed out while driving?”

Spencer’s chest had begun to rise and fall heavily with the prospect of something far worse happening to you if he hadn’t been around, the guilt eating him up.

You grumbled out quietly, “I was going to eat something after letting you in, but you looked upset and I knew we needed to talk.”

You both stayed silent and when you looked up at him, his eyes were already trained on you, he let you speak first. “I am really sorry, I know you deserve to go out with your friends and I obviously know spending time with them outside of work is different than when you’re at work. I was just really tired, the shift was long and I missed you. And I took it out on you and I’m sorry.”

There were tears streaming down your eyes and you wiped them away quickly, “It’s hard having the jobs that we do.”

“I’m sorry too, I think I was still upset about what happened a few days ago and I didn’t want to spend the time that we did have arguing and I opted for going out instead of being here. But I’m still mad at you.”

You laid your head on his chest so you were no longer looking at each other, “You can’t be living off granola bars and coffee.”

“I just forget! I don’t do it on purpose.”

“I know, but for both of our sakes, I need you to sit up and eat.”

You perked you at his words and sat up quickly, causing the room to start spinning again. “Take it easy.”

Before he could reach for the plate you pulled him to you, pressing a few kisses to his lips, “You know I love you right?”

He mumbled quietly against your lips before pressing a kiss to your nose, “I love you too.” He continued to cover your face in soft kisses, only stopping to rub his nose against yours gently, “I missed you.”

“I did too.” He pressed one more kiss to your lips before grabbing the plate, he didn’t let you move from your place until you finished everything.

taglist: @swellwriting @carolinesbookworld @theboywhocriedlupin @awfulmoons @lumos-barnes @fortisfiliae @finnofamerica @beskarjedi @aperrywilliams @ta-ka-shi-ma @spenceluvbot @la-vie-en-amour1 (let me know if you’d like to be added <3)

#criminal minds #spencer reid #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fluff #spencer reid imagine #criminal minds x reader #criminal minds x y/n #spencer reid smut #criminal minds smut #criminal minds angst #criminal minds fluff #criminal minds fandom #aaron hotchner #derek morgan

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dialoguelostloop · 4 years

Photo

remember when my hand slipped and i accidentally a bunch of hollow knight gijinkas? the hand... did not stop from keep slipping, suffice to say lol. i think i’m done now though.

part one (ghost, hornet, the dreamers, and quirrel) can be found here. notes on these folks will be under a readmore!

please read my faq page! (tl;dr version: dont use my art for icons/graphics/whatever without getting my permission beforehand, please use neutral pronouns for hollow and any other vessels in any tags/commentary, dont tag as kin/me/whatever pls)

HOLLOW - as i mentioned under ghost’s gijinka description, i think proximity to void & pale being energy is what causes vessel growth. when tpk figured this out he, like, supercharged hollow with both so that they’d be fully grown as quickly as possible. this is how they wound up 6′7″ at all of 12, which just gave them fragile joints and height dysphoria as severe as ghost’s. they went into the black egg with the same bob haircut and it grew out badly while they were in there. they’re not totally blind in their right eye, but their vision in it’s pretty bad and they’ve lost some red/green definition too. their prosthetic arm works through soul so they can take it off whenever they want, which is good, because it’s not very comfortable.

GRIMM (and grimmchild) - from what i’ve seen most grimm gijinkas lean into the circus master/dracula side, so i went for the clown/catboy angle instead lol. yes that’s greasepaint. i was going for “almost sexy, but unfortunately still a weird clown” but am informed by friends that i overshot and he wound up hot anyway. as for grimmchild, i really just wanted them to be a kid in a kigurumi for each in-game charm level lol. they start out looking 3 but grow a year with each ritual stage completed, so lv4 grimmchild is 6. whether grimm is cis or trans/perisex or intersex depends on what the previous grimmchild was, so he’s used to his anatomy changing with each reincarnation. he never dresses any differently either.

WHITE LADY - your weird alien mom who’s the face of Horny On Main... this is her precanon outfit, her midcanon one is gray and more covering lol. aside from the crown there’s just a lot of white palace foliage in her hair in general. her hair should always be drawn trailing off the edges of the canvas, like ultimate madoka.

RADIANCE - before anyone asks, tpk is obviously what happened to her legs. her prostheses are even more Cool But Uncomfortable than hollow’s (she literally has to float, you cannot walk on those toothpick feet) so her chair is very necessary for when she gets tired. yes the dreamshields on the big wheels actually function magically; its cushions are the same sort of cushion in seer’s room. her clothing patterns come from dream realm spirographs, from the normal and absolute versions of her canon halo, and the architecture found at the crater’s crown. also her hair just Does That naturally. her tears being the same color as her eyes/the infection is a little on the nose but it bears emphasis, so lmao

LACE - i wasn’t gonna do any silksong characters but... She... i poured as much Adorable Bastard Energy into her design as i could!!! i was really torn whether to adapt her canon design’s hat into a pink diamond hair type white afro or just a hat over cornrows or s/t. i went with Fluffy, but if we ever see lace without her hat in canon i guess i’ll retroactively make her fro into a wig so i can have both worlds

SEER - everyone knows i cannot turn down the option to give a character sky-patterned clothing, so seer’s cloak is the sky of the moths’ dream. the gold spirographs on her arms and face are religious body paint that only dream masters/dream nail teachers are allowed to wear; the wisteria pattern on her face (obv taken from the charms in her room/in the dream realm) is scarification.

MARMU - did you know that on real puss moth caterpillars the brown thing in the middle of their faces is their actual face, and what looks like a face and mouth around it is just camouflage to scare predators away? so obviously i had to put marmu in a big cloak that looks like her canon design as a recursive joke. she’s a lighter brown than the other moth characters because i have way more marmu sadstuck headcanons than anyone ever wanted, including me.

UNN - just wants to go back to sleep. she’s the tallest of the higher beings, probably pushing 8 feet. aside from her size her canon design is pretty unassuming so i just gave her Clothes Comfortable To Sleep In. the clasp on her cardigan is the shape of unn charm ofc.

BRETTA - i have found the new home of 90s antenna ahoge. it is a design choice made for bug gijinkas.

CLOTH - i could only picture her as a more subdued, brown-eyed/slightly lighter-skinned gideon nav. my apologies to taz.

MYLA - lost that front tooth in her line of work. mining is very dangerous. her hairstyle and freckles are just because i think both are cute lol

#hollow knight #hk gijinka #the hollow knight #grimm hollow knight #white lady hollow knight #the radiance #lace hollow knight #seer hollow knight #marmu hollow knight #unn hollow knight #bretta hollow knight #cloth hollow knight #myla hollow knight #hollow knight spoilers

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violetnotez · 5 years

Text

Rookie |2|- Dabi x Reader

Omg guys! The amount of love I got for Part 1 makes me- ugh- just- THANK YOU! You guys make my day! I tagged as many of you guys as I could who asked for a Part 2, and also- we hit 400 lovely followers! YAY! I love all of you so much! <3

Dabi x reader

Genre: Fluff

Word Count:

Warnings: cussings, and again Dabi is ThIrStY

Summary: You had just come from school at UA, excited to finally spend another blissful evening with your new found friends, the LOV. But unknowing to you, Dabi has other plans for your night.

PARTS: |1| |2| |3|

(RULES | MASTERLIST| REQUESTS OPEN!!! :))

You sighed, watching the clock move at an agonizing pace. Couldn’t this class go any faster?

You hated this room, this school, these people around you, especially the teachers that tried so desperately to turn you into something you weren’t….

You checked the time again, and felt disappointment bubble in your stomach for what seemed like the 100th time: All you wanted was to meet up with the villains. They liked you. They accepted you for who you were, quirk and all. They may be dangerous and cruel at times, but who was to say that you weren’t the same way? You watched out for yourself: they just did the same thing.

After that very rough introduction between you and Shigaraki a few weeks prior, he had realized you had been serious about your intentions. All your information about Izuku was correct- what classes he took, what train route he would be on in the morning, where he would usually be at after school, his best friends, his worst enemies….every and any thing Shigaraki needed to know you had in that amazingly beautiful brain of yours. To Shigaraki, you were this blessing in disguise that he had been dreaming for for so long.

-----------------------------

You and Shigaraki were sitting at the bar, his piles of ideas for missions scattered across the top like a detective’s work table..

“So,” Shiagaraki drawled out, “what is this information you have for me?”

You sucked in a deep breath, allowing your mind to calm itself, to will yourself to remember every piece of information you had accumulated over the past few weeks.

“I’ve been watching Izuku for a while now,” you explained, “Since that attack on Class 1-A you created, I noticed how he always seemed to have some sort of run-in with you...so thats when I’ve been tracking him a bit. Keeping tabs: Where he lives, what train he takes, his friends, his enemies, his hobbies, his powers, his weaknesses…” you looked down at your drink, letting your words set in.

The more you talked the more Shigaraki got visibly excited- all this information, finally at his fingertips! He smiled a craggly grin, perking up his head at the word weaknesses.

Dabi leaned across the wall in the adjacent hallway, invisible to you or Shigaraki. He looked at the hunched backs at the counter, listening in to your conversation. That pretty little face of yours faced Shigaraki, your shoulders all too close to him for Dabi’s comfort. He knew a pretty little thing like you wouldn't want anything to do with that dried out mummy of a man, but he couldn't help but feel some sort of angry possession over you. A pang of jealousy erupted in his chest, wishing he was the one sitting next to you.

“That’s not all I know.” You sighed, “UA is doing some...training camp in the summer. Only for the students, and at some secret location- so its very under wraps.”

“You think you can get us inside the camp then?”

You scoffed. “If I didn't think I could, why would I tell you?” You laid back in your chair. “Yeah, I can do it.”

Shigaraki smiled so wide it looked like a grimace, the dried skin looking hideously strecthed under the hazy lights.

“If this works out Demon, we may just have an open spot for you on our team.”

Dabi’s heart unexpectedly skipped a beat, a rare grin spreading across his scarred lips.

-----------------------------

The final bell rang, your eyes wide with excitement as you flew out the room as your teacher tried desperately to remind the class of some quiz the next day. You rolled your eyes. You didn't bother with school anymore: if you joined the League, what was the need of it? You’d be more than fine by yourself. You could give two damn’s now if you passed your classes: you just wanted out of this place.

You finally came upon the grand entrance of UA, pushing out the door with the rest of the student body. It was amazing outside- the sky was a fiery orange, red’s and yellow’s dancing in the sky as the sunset’s glow illuminated everything in its golden rays. You smiled, feeling the power of your quirk pulse excitedly in your veins, your hand tingling slightly, a memory flitting into your mind.

-----------------------------

You had just come from school, taking time to hang out with your new friends- the League. They had seemed to have been taking a liking to you, Toga loving having a new girl counterpart, Shigaraki now welcoming you with much less hostility after learning your importance, Twice seeming to forgive you for spraining his wrist, and Dabi- well- Dabi was a character.

He was unpredictable, merciless, and cold yet...warm at the same time. He wasn’t afraid to play dirty, or be dirty, for that matter. He had countless times thrown you smug stares that made the heat in your face rise, or sexual innuendos that would make your whole body shiver. He wasn’t a clean man, Dabi, but hell was he attractive.

“So Demon,” Dabi asked, sprawled on the couch with you, “what exactly is your quirk?”

“Yeah, I wanna know!” Toga yelled out as she clutched her face, her eyes wide with hungry anticipation.

“Really? I haven't told you guys? I'm surprised!” you laughed, racking your brain to see if you had shown them. You surprised yourself- you had been around the League for two whole weeks now, and couldn't remember once showing them your quirk.

You rose from the couch slightly, Dabi feeling the weight leave from where he was sitting, missing the feeling of your body close to his own.

“Well….it’d be easier if I just showed you instead of telling,” you replied nonchalantly.

Dabi watched you with gleaming eyes, his eyes eating at you with the hopeful, slightly seductive look he always seemed to give you, a small grin on his face. You were wearing the same type of outfit when you first arrived to the group- black sweatshirt and matching black sweatpants. He had not once seen you without it; when he confronted you about it, you had blushed all so adorably he wanted to practically eat you up right then and there.

Your main reason was that you met with the villains after school, and you would throw these clothes over so no one could see you walking to the villians in your UA uniform. So, now, as you reached down and pulled to lift the thick fabric of your sweatshirt, Dabi couldn't help but feel excitement erupt in his stomach

His heart beat pulsed sharply, watching those delicate arms of yours become- finally- exposed, his breath hitching. You were wearing a simple black tank top, the curves of your body tightly contained. Your unmarked skin glistened in the light, making Dabi’s mouth water. He drank in everything about you: how your shoulder muscles protruded from your skin, each dimple and spot on your arms, the way your hair cascaded around your body and face oh so perfectly. Dabi noticed the delicate chain necklace resting on your throat, the tiny pendant fitted perfectly between the ridges of your collarbones. Something about that necklace drove him wild inside, imagining how it would feel to twist that little chain in between his slender fingers as you moaned out his name, him trailing kisses down that sweet soft skin of your chest. He licked his lips, trying not to get too overwhelmed as he followed the trail from your strap down to bust, the slight cleavage make him frustratedly hot inside.

All you ever did was tease him, and you didn't even know it. It drove him crazy that you could do this to him.

You closed your eyes, unaware of the lustful dilemma Dabi was going through seeing you take off your top. You instead focused on your quirk, allowing its power to build, feeling a familiar warm heat grow in the pit of your stomach. It started to spread, a honey warm sensation sliding down your body, hugging your thighs and torso in it as it trailed its way up. When the sensation finally reached your chest, you heard a loud, in awe gasp from Toga.

You smirked, imagining how strange it must be to watch you transform: its not everyday you get to see someone turn into something otherworldly. You opened your eyes, looking down at your hands. Your skin was now fiery red, the color of a ripe maraschino cherry. You looked at your new friends, smiling sheepishly as you saw their shocked faces.

“WHoa! Your eyes! They’re completely black!” Toga breathed out in awe, now sitting on her knees as she craned to stare at your new form.

“Yeah, it's a small side effect of my quirk-” you chuckled.

“I guess I now know why you call yourself Demon, doll face.” Dabi smirked lazily, drinking in this new you. “Your pretty damn hot like that.”

“Ew Dabi dont start that now- Im right here!” Toga complained loudly, not unlike a child seeing their parents kiss. Dabi sighed, rolling his eyes. He forgot-the little brat was still here.

Not going to lie, he was not expecting this: he had thought maybe you used some weird illusion quirk or maybe an elemental type quirk, but nothing like this. Your whole body was this red hot color, your skin completely pigmented to the color of a bright red lipstick. Your hair was crazy and wild from pulling off the sweatshirt, matching the fierce, dangerous gleam in your pitch black eyes.

Why were you so hot to him- even more so like this? Maybe it was because you looked so dangerous now? He didn't think he could hold in more of this sexual tension- he was ready to pounce on you right here. If god damn Toga wasn't there, he probably would. He was just so used to seeing you as this innocent little angel, somebody who had no idea what world they were truly entering into. Yes, You could hold your own, talk back, and stand up for yourself, but- he just loved how flustered you would get with him. The smallest pet name would make you go crazy, cheeks blushing and a stuttering mess. He could tell you were most likely inexperienced in many aspects of love, and oh how did he want to teach you. Every damn thing you didn't know.

But now he couldn't tell- he just knew that with that red blood skin and all black orbs you looked like some other wordly being, straight from Hell itself. You looked like a sex goddess. And he loved it.

“My quirk is kinda rare,” you began nervously, tugging on the small necklace, “Its called ‘quirk bonding’. Basically, I don't just get a mixture of my parents quirk, I actually get both in their entirety. My mom is the one who actually looks like this and she had a fire quirk. My dad on the other hand had a mind quirk- he was able to look into people’s minds and see what their deepest, darkest desires were at that moment. Some people can actually have more than their parent’s quirks, like aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents….but those are especially rare- I just have the two.”

“Whoa….” Toga squealed. “So cool! Fire quirk- just like you Dabi!”

He ignored her voice, shock riddled in his stomach. Hell, you had a fire quirk too? He was surprised at himself though- he would have thought he would feel some type of intimidation from you for having the same type of quirk as him, plus another one on top of it. But he didnt feel anything like that- it was like he was almost glad to hear you had a similar quirk- it made him feel that maybe that meant you two were destined to be together: a sign of some sort.

“So, you can look inside people’s heads?” he asked, his bright blue eyes burning into yours.

Dabi tilted his head up at you, his tongue dancing upward to lick his top lips, a giddy sensation frothing inside him.

“what do you think I'd be thinking about princess?” he flirted, snickering as he watched your already red face somehow turn even more red.

Damn you for looking so cute. He shifted deeper into the couch, watching as you giggled nervously.

You would be the end of him.

-----------------------------

You looked over your shoulder, making sure no student was in sight before slipping into the dark alleyway where you usually changed into your baggy clothes.You had seemingly managed to out walk the sea of white and gray school uniforms you had been consumed in, allowing yourself to feel slightly safe. You let the memory wash over you, relishing the look on Dabi’s face in that moment. He always seemed to give you this sweetly dangerous look, as if a lion looking at a lamb. It made you shiver, but God was it hot. You knew it was bad for you to be having feelings for this villain, but how could you not feel some sort of way for him?

You heard a pair of feet coming up the street, the steps making anxiety ripple in your stomach. Your breath instantly hitched, your mind going a thousand miles a minute: did you finally get caught? Was somebody out to get out? You flattened your body onto the wall next to you, feeling the rough stucco prickle onto your back as two loud school girls walked by, laughing and texting as they strolled by without a care in the world. You rolled your eyes at their ignorance for giving you such a scare, willing your heart to lessen its intense pressure on your ribs. You breathed out a soft sigh, a hand placed over your heart, feeling the beats like a kiss on your digits. Thank God, now you could finally relax-

“Didn’t think you were so jumpy doll face- if you're gonna be working with us in the future, you're gonna have to get more loose,” you heard a male’s voice chuckle out, a playful taunt as you whipped your head around, fearfully searching for the source of the voice. A pair of fiery blue eyes emerged from the shadows of the alleyway, Dabi’s characteristically lazy smirk making annoyance bubble inside you.

“What the hell Dabi!” you cried out, feeling your overactive heart scream against your chest, “you scared me!”

Dabi laughed, no guilt evident on his face.

“Im a villian, sweetheart- get used to it.” He was now standing dangerously close to you, his lean body towering over you. That sinful look was back on his scarred face, his lips curling into a bi-colored smirk. You felt the heat rise to your cheeks as you tried desperately to keep your stance and not melt under his intense gaze. You both kept up your staring contest, each side not wanting to falter.

“Its still not cool,” you retorted back, feeling your anger bubble away as you felt yourself get lost in those blue eyes. Damn him for being so dangerously pretty- you felt your eyes began to roam his face, following the separation between his smooth skin to the death purple, marred scars. The staples glinted like stars in the lowering sunlight, the sky turning a soft shade of indigo.

Dabi had been staring right back, loving the annoyed expression on your face- even if it was directed at him. He had no shame as he admired how sweet and innocent you looked in that school uniform, your curves slightly hinted at behind the thing white shirt and pleated green skirt. The short stocking you wore didn't help his imagination, his mind taking each article of clothing off one by one. It was such a stark contrast from your true quirk, he couldn't help but find it somewhat comical that you were on both spectrums: the most purely innocent to the downright sensual. He continued to gaze at you, noticing the blush creep up your cheeks, not minding if he was making you feel uncomfortable.

“Dont look at me like that,” your voice wavered, barely audible as heat flooded your body, Dabi’s ice blue eyes stopped scanning your body and meet yours.

If it was anyone but you, he would have instantly defended himself- he did whatever he wanted to do, damn what others told him. But you- you were different, he never wanted to intentionally hurt you, and by the way your voice faltered, you seemed to like that he roamed your body. You just weren't used to it- but that was alright, he’d make sure you got real comfortable with how much he adored you.

He took a step closer, your bodies a hair away from being pressed up against each other.

“Why’s that?” he asked huskily, his smirk growing dangerously.

Your mind felt numb- how could he do this to you? You felt like you couldnt even think straight- you were so consumed in those aqua eyes and the lingering scent of firewood that seemed to grow with each step he took towards you. God, he was downright intoxicating- you could drown in him forever.

While your heart was loving the fact that he was outright flirting with you, your head was screaming with logic- he was villain, this could never work! This complicated your plans, not make them clearer! And he could be doing this to dozens of other girls- making them feel like they were special, and then ripping their hearts out to shreds. You wouldn't put in past him. You reluctantly stepped away from him, ending the trance you had put yourselves in abruptly.

You spun around, trying to calm your heart, your head faced away from him. You needed to end this, now- you couldnt let this one man get in the way of your goals, even though you were seemingly falling for his charms.

You took a deep breath of cool night air, forcing yourself to get rid of the heat he had cause inside your body.

“Its rude,” you shot over your shoulder, your voice icy as you slung your backpack off your shoulder to dig for your clothes.

Dabi just merely rolled his eyes, his grin still on his face. You pushed him away, he could take it: He was angry that you ending the energy between you two so suddenly.

“Besides-” you added, “how did you even know I would be here?”

He leaned on the wall, his smirk now half as small, shrugging his shoulders lazily. “Just followed the wave of school kids, until I found your face in it.”

It sounded innocent enough, but in his voice, it sounded menacing, like a predator stalking its prey. A satisfying chill crackled up your back. You imagined Dabi slinking in the alleyways, following and watching your every move with those icy blue eyes. The thought made your body feel off balanced, your head foggy.

You contiued to not look at him, knowing full well that lazy smirk was plastered on his face.

“Well that was stupid-” you scolded him, “you couldve been seen.”

“Aw, you care about me? How precious,” he cooed at you mockingly, enjoying the way your back stiffen, knowing you reacted to his words.

It was so easy to make you react to him, even when you tried not to- Dabi found it quite fun. A game of sorts.

You rolled your eyes, hating how even when he was mocking you, he could make you feel so warm inside.

“No, its just I dont think its smart to be sneaking around a whole building full of Pro Heroes that would arrest you in a instant.” You retorted calmly, trying to act as if his words didnt effect you in the slightest.

Dabi perked up his eyebrows, a little bit of annoyance bubbling inside him. He knew damn well you werent any better than him- you were probably a little worse. You were a spy for the League of Villians- you were practically in the belly of the beast every day. He knew you really meant no harm, but he didnt like to be questioned, especially by someone who was doing exactly what he was doing.

“Dont patronize me, Demon,” he sighed, his body relaxed but his jaw tight, “ you do the same damn thing everyday.”

Well that hurt.

You stopped rummaging through your backpack, startled slightly by his lack of friendliness in his voice. It bothered you that he called you by your name you had told him, not by the sweet pet names he always called you by. You shook off the feeling instantly, letting it slide off your conscience- it didn't matter that he seemed annoyed with you. Damn him- you were only concerned for his well being.

“Maybe- maybe not. I’m just….careful. And I just want you to be too.”

You chose your words carefully, not wanting to escalate the argument any further. You chose that time to peak a look at Dabi’s expression. To anyone walking by, he would have looked calm, relaxed even. But you observed him a little more closely- his jaw was clenched, and his hands stuffed in his pockets roughly. He was obviously bothered by your words. The air felt heavy enough to slice with a knife and the silence unbearable to deal with to you.

Dabi couldn't believe what he just heard- this was the first thing you had said to him that reciprocated some sort of feelings towards you. Even though you were being pretty nosy a few minutes ago, he couldn't help but feel exhilarated by your words. They were sweet and pure, and he really didn't know how to feel about it. Dabi was a man run by primal passion, and not really keen on the fluffy feelings of love. It was a hassle to deal with, especially with the wall he had around his heart, and he wasn't used to others expressing concern for his well being. But you just did right now, and even if it was intended to be friendly, it made his heart race and new, honest emotions bubble inside him he hadn't felt for years.

You sighed, feeling you had said the wrong thing as Dabi brooded in his thoughts.

“Just let me change, then we can go to the League.”

Dabi heard your voice and instantly shook off the feelings he was feeling for you, reluctantly rebuilding the wall up around him and plastering that lazy smile back on his face.

“No need to do that- Shigaraki has something for you.”

He walked past you, that agonizing smell of firewood drifting off his clothes as he pulled out a black, thin box from a hidden corner in the alleyway. He held it out, motioning for you to take it. You watched his every move, giving him a quizzical look as he held out he box for you to take. He flashed you a cocky grin, making a weak smile come out of you. You didnt know where the new found friendliness had came from, but you were just glad Dabi had gotten over your argument so quickly. You took the box eagerly, confused on what it could be. The box was thin, with a small silver latch on the front. You unhooked it, a satisfying “snap” filling the air as you opened the lid, a small gasp escaping fro your mouth.

“Your new villain suit,” Dabi smiled at your shocked face.”If your going to be coming out as a villain pretty soon, your gonna need something better than some voice changer and pajamas.”

You couldnt belive it- your own authentic suit. One that wasnt trying to covering you up. Back at UA, your hero suit was pretty mediocre- it completely covered up your body, except for one arm so you could activate your fire quirk. You felt covered up, as if they wanted you to look less menacing, as if your red skin was a curse. It was already a curse enough to have a quirk that changed your whole body- why couldn't they just let you accept it?

But this new suit- it was completely black, a reflective gray shine to the fabric as you shimmied the fabric in the setting sun. There were etheral black cut outs at the hips, tendrils of fabric like flames licking up to make the bodice. Matching cuffs with yellow orbs like moons were there to accent your arms, giving the ensemble a pop of color. It was exactly as you invisioned yourself to look like- powerful. Confident. Dangerous.

You gave Dabi a look of appreciation, his blue eyes watching your face with a look of humor. He didnt think youd get this excited over it- you practically looked like a kid on Christmas.

“They are not pajamas-” you finally retorted back after a few moments of admiring your new outfit, trying to keep your overwhelming excitement at bay, “ their sweats.”

Dabi laughed, not really knowing how that made a difference. “Whatever you say Demon.”

You continued to look at the costume, feeling a surge of appreciation fill you. You couldn't believe it- you were finally being accepted. After years of being alone, of suppressing your quirk because of the fear people had of you and your quirk's effects on your body, you finally found a group that actually liked you for you.

“This is really mine?”

Dabi smiled softly. “Who else would it be for? Dont ask questions- just take it.”

You gave a curt nod, smiling down at the outfit.

“Ya know, I gave some ideas for the outfit to Shigaraki.” Dabi commented, a flirtatious tone in his voice

“Oh really?” you said sarcastically, “ I didn't even notice.” Dabi’s touch was definitely in the suit- he seemed to have a flare for black with gray pieces, which was evident in the material used for the cuffs. And how tight the whole suit was, you could definitely see him trying to convince Shigaraki for that little detail.

“I hope you love it as much as I do.” He leaned in close to your face, those fiery eyes piercing your soul with such a lustful look you couldn't help but look away- it was so hard to keep eye contact with him.

You blushed again furiously, angry at yourself for instantly looking away. How was he so easy to control your emotions? You felt like this was just a huge cat and mouse game to him- he’d give you some space, allowing you to feel confident enough to banter and kid with him, and then he latches onto you, throwing in a comment that throws you in for a loop.

“Th-thank you-,” you stuttered slightly ,swallowing to regain your composure, “but Im confused- why wouldnt you just give me this at the bar?”

“Oh he didnt tell you?” Dabi smiled evilly, making your heart race. “We’re going out training tonight- just you and me.”

You internally screamed. What the hell Shigaraki?! He knew how much of a pervert Dabi secretly was- he didnt try that hard to hide it. So why was Shigaraki trying to screw you over by placing you with this man you were slowly gaining feelings for?

“Shigaraki thinks it would be a good idea for me to train you,” Dabi continued, hardly noticing the terror erupting inside you from the thought of being alone with him, “ since our quirks are similar. Help you feel out how to work alongside the League once we put our plan into place.”

You simply nodded your head, trying to pretend you were cool and collected about learning this new information.

“Smart,” you agreed, “-alright, I’m in. I just need a place to change into my costume.”

“Oh, thats alright princess- I dont mind if ya do it right here. Matter of fact- I’d really love it if you do.”

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Was this good? Did you guys like it? Im debating whether to write a Part 3, so I’ll just base my decisions off of what you guys decide!

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REQUESTS OPEN/ Matchups closed/ Asks open 24/7!!!!

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Taggings:

@cin-midnight @ justaweaboonugget @ tinyweaselhoundpickle @ missalicebaskerville @ velvet-kissesss @ nekee-lilac02 @ placeoftime @ lillushx

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florence-is-gay · 4 years

Text

I made a ship fanfic for florence’s oc and mine. Have it.

“Hey, Lulu! Wake up!”

Lumine slowly opened her eyes, to see Bottle grinning ear to ear at her.

“What is it BB?” She said, leaning up from her bed to stare at her lover.

“As you know, its been raining for quite a long bit, and i was bored in the middle of the night. I was then reminded of this tv show where the main characters tried golfing when it was raining, and basically-“ He sat down onto Lumine’s bed as she saw that Bottle made an entire mini golf course inside of their house.

“-I couldnt sleep and was bored so i made this, simply put.” Bottle said, extending his arm to express the vast quantity of mini golf he made.

Lumine was still trying to wake up, but was impressed at what bottle had made. “I love it, honey!” She said, proceeding it with a stifled yawn.

“Thanks! I also made you some breakfast because i still had some free time after i finished the golf course.” He said, hugging Lumine with one hand and grabbing a plate of hash browns and bacon with another. “Now eat up, because i honestly want to try and play some mini golf because im exited to see how someone else would think of this!”

“It looks great from what i can see! Lumine said, as she quickly kissed bottle.

Lumine, still slightly tired, took a bit of time to eat her food, but scarfed it down once she woke up a bit more. It was honestly a tad bit burnt, but she didnt mind. Bottle made this stuff for her out of love and she didnt care if it wasnt perfect. Love already made it perfect.

When she was done eating, she gently placed her food on her bed and got up. As she was about to leave their room, though, Bottle suddenly opened the door, seeming even more giddy and exited than before.

“Lulu, guess what?”

With a quick chuckle, lumine answered with an over enthusiastic “What, honey?”

“We didnt have golf stuff so i bought us some, and i also got us-“ Bottle, out of flair, did a spinning backflip, and landed in a completely new outfit. He was now wearing a plaid sweater, white and green, with a white beret instead of his normal stereotypical pirate hat. Also in Bottle’s hands laid a set of clothes as well, in very much magenta colors.

“-Golf clothes!” He said, with as much flair as he possibly could.

Lumine couldn’t help but giggle at what was going on. The rain had been going on for days now, and it wasnt giving her the best of sleep, so waking up to a gift of fun, some amazing food, and what looks to be an amazing new set of clothes was the uplift that she needed.

“Aw, that you so much BB!” She picked up the clothes from bottle, and stuck them under her armpit. “Ill go change into these right away, hehe!” She said with another giggle.

She closed the door and changed as quickly as she could. When Lumine walked out, she was wearing a magenta and pink sweater, with a lopsided cyan beret and some dark magenta jeans (that were a bit too tight for her liking.)

“Im ready to play some golf, honey!” She said, with a little hop.

Bottle was sitting in a nearby chair as lumine walked out, and him seeing her also in a full golf outfit made him practically jump with joy. He quickly skipped over, and actually picked up lumine to hug her. He slowly started spinning in place as he spoke. “How does it fit, honey?”

“The pants are a little tight but other than that it feels perfect! I love it! The sweater is super soft and the beret is adorable!” She said, nuzzling her nose against his.

“Wonderful!” Bottle gently put lumine down and then turned to look at almost a dozen minigolf courses around their house, and with a voice full of pride and excitement, said to lumine, “Now, lets play some golf, honey!”

Bottle quickly ran over to one of the smaller courses, labeled with a small red flag with the number ‘1’ on it. He pulled out a golf club with a lime green handle and a shorter club with a magenta handle, and handed the latter to lumine. He then set a golf ball down in a little groove on the track, signifying where the ball should lay on first putt.

“Honey, you get first shot, but dont swing the club, just gently hit the ball, ok?” He brought lumine over, perpendicular to the ball, and got behind her to help her prepare her shot.

Lumine gives a nice, effective swing, and brings the ball fairly close to the hole (which was just a very shortly cut plastic cup, mind you) for her first putt. Bottle then brings out his own ball, and swings it, hitting lumine’s and knocking both of them into the hole at the same time.

“We both got a hole in one, honey! Nice shot!” Lumine said to Bottle, hugging him tight.

“Yeah! You honestly did great yourself, too!” He said, patting lumine gently on the head. “Now, lets move to the next one!” He said, running over to the next course.

None of the mini golf courses were particularly hard, but they were an absolute joy to observe. Each one had its own interesting and unique style, and just knowing it was all made by bottle, and it was all just for the two of them, was an amazing experience that lumine would absolutely never forget.

Hole after hole they progressed, and by the time they were halfway through it, lumine had actually gained an impressive lead, but Bottle was not angry in any way, which surprised Lumine. Bottle could be a bit of a hothead at times, and considering how mini golf normally went for her and her family, she was surprised he hadnt completely freaked out. Even though he was still losing hard, he was complimenting Lumine’s work, still trying his hardest, and was as cool as a cucumber. She then decided that it could be fun to lightly tease bottle.

As he was preparing his next swing, lumine kissed him on the cheek and gently said, “I love you so much BB.” This legitimately startled bottle, and he swung completely away from his target, with the ball slamming into the nearby wall. The two stared at the ball for a moment, but then bursted out laughing. “Yeah, yeah. I love you too, but please dont say it when i was about to putt.” He said, turning to Lumine and kissing her.

“No~ hehe.” Lumine said as they stoped kissing, booping his nose with her own.

“Well, that might cause some problems if i dont... *punish it.*” Bottle said, turning to Lumine with a slightly silly expression. He then quickly and suddenly picked her up and started tickling the crap out of her, dousing her in kisses for good measure.

“Is this enough punishment for you to rethink what you did?” Bottle said, still tickling lumine.

“Mh... mhm-“ Lumine barely mustered saying before laughing as hard as she could.

“Good enough for me.” Bottle said, putting her down.

As the game progressed, every hole one of them would then always try to mess with their partner, sometimes with a kiss, sometimes with a little spook, but the other would always get “punished” in the end with kisses and tickles.

Soon enough though, they reached the last hole. It wasnt flashy or very decorative at all, compared to the others. All it was was a small golf strip, leading up to a golf hole with a small machine behind it.

“You go first, honey.” Bottle said, nudging her to the spot.

Lumine walked up to the hole and placed down her ball.

“Are you sure this is the last hole, honey? All of the others were incredibly high quality and super adorable, but this doesnt seem all that interesting.”

“Trust me, you’ll love it.” Bottle said, reassuringly.

Lumine hit the ball and it swept in instantaneously. As lumine went to pick it up, however, the small machine started whirring to life. It slowly started speaking, and it was obvious that it was just recording Bottle’s voice.

“Well, that was a game of golf, wasnt it? I bet i loved it almost as much as i love you.” The machine spoke. “... on the topic of love. This is actually, as can be considered, the anniversary of our first ‘date,’ back when we fell from that giant tree and landed in a cloud of cotton candy. Ive been honestly preparing to make something for this day for ages now, and im glad that you played enough mini golf to get to the prize. Now, if you could, turn around.”

Lumine slowly turned, and was surprised to see Bottle on one knee, holding out a platinum ring.

Bottle spoke with a quiver in his voice, almost as if he was afraid that he would ruin the moment. “Well, i bet this is surprising.” Lumine stared bottle directly in his eyes, and almost started crying at the sight.

“Honey, i... i thought about it for a long time. I wanted to bring it up, but was secretly planning to save it for this moment. My feelings for you have gone far deeper than you know, and in expressing them now, and i honestly think, your ring finger could be the perfect thing to fill this hole-in-one.” Bottle said, gesturing to the ring.

Lumine slowly picked up the ring, almost as if it was fake. But it wasnt fake, and the thought crashed down onto her in an instant. She gripped the ring as hard as she could as she ran over to hug bottle as tightly as possible.

“Yes.” She said, practically crying as feelings of love washed over her like tsunamis.

Bottle didnt say a word, but slowly picked up lumine, walked her over to her bed, and set her down. Lumine didnt want to let go of him, though, so bottle climbed into bed with her, as she hugged him tight. They both went to bed, with the house being covered in golf things, with their clothes still on, and their bodies wrapped together tighter than a vice.

“Thank you.” Lumine was able to mumble, saying as she slowly reached up to kiss bottle.

“You’re welcome.”

I will have y'all know that I cried when I read this at 2am.

It's freaking wonderful and I love it 😍💕

#fanfiction #oc #original characters #Lumine Luster #Bottle Brandy #submission #🌺💕

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criticaltaurus · 4 years

Text

Since I have no chill

My Avatar OC’s for each entity!

Under cut cause length

Buried! Since I love the esoteric meanings, they appear as a kind person who asks you a favor (slightly eye touched) but it soon becomes one thing after another and another until you’re buried in expectations and stress, especially impacts those with anxiety/fear of failure. No concrete design in mind, but probably a diminutive old lady (mama issues yo)

Corruption~ A nice church girl, who goes to church (and reads her biiibleeee) Who just really vibed with God Loves All His Children. When she saw a ladybug in her hair, she thought it was God showing his love to her (from an old saying her grandmother had), and when they started coming from her ears, eyes, nose, mouth, wherever, that’s just proof she embodies Gods love to show to everyone. Honestly well meaning, but thinks people are afraid out of shame rather than Whoops All bugs

Dark. (Okay since it’s so simplistic I have a lot of trouble with Dark but here goes) So they’re a subversive type, going more for blindness than actual darkness. Y’know when you shine a really bright light and it washes away the details of what its pointed at? That’s them, they are/generate such a blinding, washing light, that you’re as unaware as you are in pitch darkness, only it subverts the comfort and safety the light supposedly brings. They’d still be Edge AF tho.

End. A stone mason who makes headstones for people who haven’t passed away yet, but gives a date. Kinda like the weird death prophecy book, if they try to change it, the date will just change, but it’s even scarier when it doesn’t change. Secondary effect: The epithet will also show how one will be remembered, if at all, before inevitably deteriorating into nothing.

EyE. So there’s this one artist whose paintings always have one person looking directly into “camera” to be directly facing the viewer, basically that as a person, no matter where or when you look, you’ll always match eyes with them, and you don’t know who they’re really looking at.

FLESH Face-Stealer. Pretty Stranger-Aligned, but they vibed with the body modification more so than the uncanny valley aspect of it all. They’ll replace someone, murder their friends + Family and switch between them, because under the skin we’re all the same meat after all.

lonely. A simple kind of person, they have the power to warp perception, making someone hyper-aware of any negative social tick on a person, making them feel like everyone is against them or negative towards them.

Stranger? Happy Faces Everyone! Sort of the opposite of the Lonely guy, they’d make everyone around them super positive and friendly, for nor reason! Even the worst people, the most aggressive, will be kind with a big smile on their face (such as “You did this for me? What’d you do with the real *insert name here*) Feel like their kindness is a lie yet? Feel that paranoia set in? Feel the performative nonsense of it all?

V a s t . My main self-insert Sona, the eldritch park ranger! Loves the forest, and you will too! Or you won’t doesn’t really matter! Cause the trees start coming and they dont stop coming!

Web. Matchmaker, Matchmaker, make me a match~ Find me a find~ Catch me a Catch~. Ties people together by “coincidence” and “chance” until they become convinced it’s not an accident, even if its contradictory to their nature. Why did you, who couldn’t care about makeup or skin care, walk into the beauty shop to see the girl who, while never playing a console video game, walked into your game store? The two would never go anywhere though, always being tugged away by something or other before a match could be made, keeping the two in frustrated, endless pining, while removing any other choices.

Extinction, for fun! A modern tech CEO. Gentrification, anti-homeless architecture, making everything all bland and techy and overpriced until everyone is forced out or conformed, could give Elias a run for his money.

I saved four for last because i’ve come up with a sort of Eldritch Gang Band, and aside from my Park Ranger, i’ve developed them the most. They go by the Misfreaks as a band name, and do some good gigs outside of eldritch monster work

Khaos(Kah-oes) Kween, Desolation avatar, anti-capitalist, lead singer, and has one hell of a baseball bat swing. The most aggressive of the four, and loves to break everything. When she gets all Desolation-y, her bat gets red hot, but her real power is to melt away memories of anything she burns. Hates The Lightless Flame tho.

Hunter King (that’s actually his name). Hunt Avatar, and the moral core and common sense of the four. He keeps their targets on shitty amoral people, but he knows that’s according to his views. Drummer, and his main Hunt power is being a lie-detector, and a killer with throwing knives. ACAP (All Cops Are Prey)

Jack Slaughter, Slaughter Avatar, a bigender person kicked out by her strict parents, youngest in the group (?), main guitarist, basically got adopted by Khaos and Hunter, and is the most brutal of the group. His main power is blood knives. If he cant get any from someone else, he usually resorts to punching herself in the face.

Twist Joker, Spiral...avatar? Honestly none of the others really know much about her(?). Just kinda showed up when they were practicing for a gig, and can play the bass like a pro so no harm done! Scenecore personified, and whenever they talk or move, they leave a trail of rainbow after images, stays pretty close unless they move faster. The most chaotic, most energetic, but also peppiest. Her main power is to give sensory overload. Anyone targeted by her will begin to feel every color, every sound, every sensation more and more intensely until they snap.

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littlemisslipbalm · 4 years

Text

Little Border Town Pt. 3

Summary: It begins with a man and a woman, as it always seems to. One lives in France and the other lives in Italy, technically, but they’re also neighbors. Various issues arise between these two and they can’t ever seem to see eye to eye on anything. Will they ever move past their petty fighting or is the little town they live in doomed to only gossip about what Harry and Y/N are fighting about today?

Part 3: the one with the boat and the beginning of a storm

IT’S BEEN AGESSSS I AM SO SO SORRY I LOVE YALL SO MUCH AND EVERYONE WHO HAS EVER READ THIS THANK YOU FOR BEING PATIENT

also harry is wearing this fit in this part just no tie?? i think i cant remember

college has been incredibly crazy this year already and i just dont have time to write like i did before i went back. i honestly had this mostly finished and i havent reread so i have no idea what even happens so lmk what you think, i can’t imagine that it will get a lot of notes but if it did id be very happy about that - anyways lots of love and feedback appreciated as always...pls enjoy

Word Count: 6.6k | Warnings: ?? Swearing? idek, more yearning bc slow burn

Catch up here! part 1 | 2 |

“Isn’t the weather not ideal for boat sailing today,” she ponders as her face looks up at the sky. She’s walking into Harry’s store again after running back to her place to grab a jacket and lock up. She placed a notecard in the door’s window that says “closed today, see you tomorrow” with a smiling face as punctuation.

Harry grins, bouncing on the balls of his feet. He had sailing boots on his feet with a smart big-collared printed shirt and marigold trousers. Instead of a belt, he had suspenders that matched the color of his pants and a pearl necklace as his final accessory other than his rings. He must have repainted his nails this morning because they were a light lavender shade that hadn’t been noticeable last night.

“It’s just fine. We’re entering fall and the sun is out today!” He gestures to the sky above them and she nods in agreement that the sun is indeed out. However she wasn’t sure if she’d categorize it as a nice day to go out on the sea still. With the sun there were also many clouds, they were mostly white and fluffy, but she was sure they could turn sinister any moment.

“Ready?” He beams.

“As I’ll ever be.”

On the boat, Y/N felt her stomach churning. Was she giddy or unnerved? Likely, both.

Harry was tying the boat off the dock after helping her onto the deck. It wasn’t a huge boat, not a yacht or anything, but it also wasn’t a tiny sailboat. It had an upper deck where maybe four people - at most - could comfortably be. Then a lower deck, inside a hatch in the upper deck. She couldn’t discern how much space was down there, but she was sure Harry would show her. He was talking through everything he was doing on the boat. Ad nauseum for an extremely nontechnical girl, such as herself.

Still, she sat in the spot he had directed her to next to the closed hatch and watched him move gracefully around the boat. Maneuvering the sails and different parts of the boat was a dance for Harry. Each step, each twist and knot, moved by a song unknown to her. It was beautiful. He was completely in his element, surprisingly. Again, Harry surprised her. She knew he had a boat, but whenever she thought of a jerk with a boat she didn’t think of what she was seeing with her own eyes. It was beautiful - or at least, it would be, if he’d shut his big mouth that was now making her roll her eyes as he made a pun about boats.

“So,” Harry starts finally, finishing up whatever he needed to do to get the boat off the dock and on the path he wanted. They were moving out into open water, she could see the little town, but it was growing smaller by the minute. Her stomach churned again as she looked up at the man she had just trusted to take her out onto the ocean. She grimaced slightly at the thought.

“Do you want to see the inside?” he continued.

She nods eagerly, “Finally!”

He chuckles lightly before opening up the hatch and gesturing for her to go first. She looks at him hesitantly.

“This isn’t a trap right? It’s not going to be all...murder-y down there?” Her voice is pitched higher, she’s almost completely serious.

This time Harry’s laugh comes from his belly, almost doubling over at the word ‘murder-y’. Between laughs, he tries to reassure her. “God no...oh my god.” More laughter, then a deep breath. “The only evil entity on this boat is the diavola I invited on here,” he gestures to her standing in front of him and her eyes narrow. Displeasure washing over her features.

“You’re ridiculous,” her hand swats at his sternum before she turns from him and climbs down to the underdeck area.

When she’s down, she’s surprised with her surroundings and she doesn’t notice Harry follow quickly behind her. It’s neat and stylish. Well, she’s not completely surprised, Harry was very fashionable. But the neatness dissipated all thoughts of the improbable scenario where Harry had lured her on his boat to murder her. It was what she had been freaking out over when she had at first refused to enter.

There was a small daybed at the end of the hall that doubled as a couch, a door to a bathroom, a dining area, a kitchenette, and then the random area they were standing in. It wasn’t super spacious, it was a hallway with things around it, but it was clean and it smelled nice. Everything had a place and they were neatly put in their places. After a moment, she turned at the feeling of Harry’s presence behind her.

He grinned, scanning the areas her eyes had just taken in for the first time. His green eyes were filled with admiration. “Do you like it?”

“Yeah, smells like you.” She nods matter of factly.

“Huh?” His head whips to her, sure he hadn’t heard her right.

“The whole place is very you,” she looks away from him and walks down the hall to the daybed and takes a seat, “Styles-ish.”

He follows quickly behind, shaking his head out of his own thoughts.

He mumbles a thanks, not catching the play on words she’d used with his last name. She smiles to herself, pleased. He stands in the doorway, not really wanting to sit beside her. Maybe he didn’t trust himself with being in such close proximity with her anymore. No, not after last night.

Her eyes widen slightly when he leans against the doorway and crosses his arms. The sleeves of his button-up had been rolled up when he had been working with the sails. Her lips suddenly are dry and she wets them with her tongue, eyes moving to the fabric of the blanket she’s sat on top of.

“I meant to say,” Harry breaks the silence, obviously not a fan of the quiet. A hand leaves his pose and runs through his hair, rings classically tugging at his curls. He swallows before he speaks again, “Thanks, uh, for stopping me last night. That would’ve been weird…”

He trails off and her eyes go wide again, but now they’re trained on his face. His eyes are downcast now, watching the way light plays off his rings. She tries to make out the sound in his voice, the expression he’s trying to hide with indifference. Her teeth tug her bottom lip into her mouth as she thinks, silence once again taking hold of the small, small room. The air is tense, static, unmoving, the complete opposite of the water that rushes just outside the walls of the boat.

She clears her throat and Harry locks eyes with her, “No problem...alcohol and atmosphere, clouds the head. I get it.” She did, but she also hadn’t wanted the gratitude Harry had just placed on her.

“You booze, you lose,” he smiles, straightening up and she looks at him quizzically.

“That’s such an odd phrase.”

“No it’s not!”

“It’s a play on ‘you snooze, you lose’ right?” She leans forward, face looking smugly up at Harry’s offended face.

“Well, yeah,” Harry admits.

“I can’t believe you made that up and got it tattooed,” She states breezily and then stands. She brushes past him to look around the rest of the cabin.

Harry scoffs, not even noticing the way her fingers had brushed over his naked forearm as she passed, too focussed on his indignation. “How’d you know about the tattoo?”

“Naked neighbor? Never closing his shade? Do you seriously need a refresher course already? Seriously, boat boy, I really thought you were smarter than that,” She talks as she snoops around the different parts of the cabin. She pokes at figurines and looks at little photos and paintings. Her head looks over her shoulder and she laughs happily at Harry’s face of irritation. It was so easy to push his buttons.

“Don’t call me boat boy,” he seethes, but she knows he’s not really mad. More like he’s a child who got told no dessert before dinner. A laugh rocks through her body again and bubbles to the surface. It causes Harry to soften, this time there’s no alcohol in his system to account for the feeling he just felt. He mirrors the smile she has. That is until she reaches the kitchenette and finds a rack of CDs sitting beside the sink.

She turns from him and begins to leaf through them, most of them are artists she recognizes. But then she reaches some that are just titled “Demo” with various numbers beside the word. Her fingers nimbly pick out “Demo #1” and turn back to Harry with an inquisitive gaze. His green eyes are bigger than usual, the smile gone from his face.

“These from the boy band days?” She smiles wider as he turns a little red. She crosses closer to him, remembering the sight of a cd player in the main area where the entrance to the cabin was.

“Erm..no.” She flips around again, confused again, but then it dawns on her. “Demos for my solo work.”

“That you put on hold to take over for your Uncle.”

“Great Uncle.” He corrects.

“I know.” She waited a second, where she was about to be quick to play the CD, she now wanted to get Harry’s permission. It might be a little more personal than she had first thought. “Can we listen to this one? You’d technically be taking me up on the request to play for me sometime.”

“Yeah, they’re rough - obviously. So if you could try to not bruise my ego, at least not more than you usually do,” he grins and she looks at him with dead eyes. A smile cracks on her face quickly, still.

“I wouldn’t...this is different,” she struggles to find the right words. She would never make fun of something he cared a lot about, not now. She wasn’t that person, it was odd to think he maybe saw her like that. She shook away the thought and focused on placing the CD in its player correctly.

The first song begins to play, he’s right it is rough, it’s a demo. There’s no backing vocals or beat of any kind. Just a voice and a guitar. And it’s amazing. After the guitar intro, she lets out a breath she had been holding when she hears the voice. His voice. It’s beautiful. And she’s shocked, her eyes flash to Harry. He’s nibbling at his bottom lip, watching her hear it for the first time. His voice from all those years ago.

“Brooklyn saw me empty at the news, there’s no water inside this swimming pool.”

Her eyes light up again at the lyrics and she smiles, finding it melancholic yet slightly funny at the same time. It was interesting, the words, his voice, the meaning. Some bits of information eluded her, but she knew she enjoyed the song.

“And I’ve been praying, I never did before.”

Even as the song moved on from this one lyric, she felt it replaying in her head as she watched the singer in front of her. Years older than he had been when he had written this song. She was filled with questions and paused the CD as the guitar faded out.

“That’s it?” Harry laughs, “Just one song? It was really that horrible?”

“Oh my god, no!” She is emphatic, needing Harry to understand she’s serious. She takes a step closer to his figure. He had traveled closer to her while the song had played. They were almost chest to chest and her hand goes out to touch his forearm. “I really liked it, genuinely. I just needed a moment before the next one.”

“Bracing yourself?”

“Stop, I’m serious. It was beautiful. Your voice is wonderful, Harry.”

His eyes sparkle at the praise, finally believing she’s not taking the piss. Then his eyes dropped from her gaze, “I was a lot younger then, was 21 I think when I recorded this demo.”

“So? A voice like that doesn’t just disappear, dude.” She looks at him with a finality in her expression before dropping the hand that was firmly gripping his tattooed arm and turning back to the CD player.

Harry bites his lip as another one of his early songs plays over the shoddy speakers. His voice repeats “Meet me in the hallway” over the solo guitar. There’s no echo or bass, no count in like the final song was supposed to have. It’s just him and his guitar, before he chose to leave it all behind.

His voice is sadder here, she notices and she visibly winces at “just take the pain away” and “just let me know, I’ll be on the floor” and his repetition of “gotta get better.”

How did this man, who seemed fazed by practically nothing, have so much hurt in him to write both of these songs? Her eyes welled with water, but she blinked them back still staring at the singer before her. He was watching the CD spin in the player as his voice came through the speakers. He was lost in thought, in memory. Maybe she was lucky, these weren’t memories for her, she was only hearing his interpretation of his life. She hadn’t had to live that pain first hand. This time she doesn’t pause before the next song.

The next one seems more produced than the last two. This one starts with drums, a step up from the last two acoustic demos in respect to production. A big crash and then a wailing guitar and an accompanying voice. His voice is stronger here, more sure of himself. And then it changes again, melancholic once again and her heart strings are yanked at again.

“We’re not who we used to be, we’re just two ghosts standing in the place of you and me, trying to remember how it feels to have a heartbeat.”

The guitar continues that sad tone for a riff and then goes back to strumming beneath his voice. She shifts her eyes to him again and sighs softly, it weighs heavy on her soul that the man next to her has seemingly been through so much heartache. He looks up at “We don’t see what we used to see” and she holds his gaze, brows knit together in confusion and sadness. She pauses this time, finger reaching out without looking.

“This is depressing, please tell me they’re not all sad songs or I might as well have turned on a pet rescue commercial.”

His smile etches on his face, in a small knowing smirk and he crosses into her personal space. She’s about to step back, but he reaches out and softly bats her finger away from the pause/play button. She smiles back, shuffling to lean against the counter beside him. It was unusual for them to be on the same side of the counter, much like last night at the bar.

“There’s six songs on this demo. Three sad, three…” he trails off, looking at her expectantly. She nods. “You gotta learn to be a little less impatient, hmm?”

“Not impatient, just trying to brace myself for more sadness. I thought I had been promised a day of fun,” she grumbles.

“I wasn’t the one who suggested a demo listening party,” his brows raise and she twists her mouth to the side at his smug response.

“True,” she finally concedes with a murmur.

He presses play and a new song comes on that is more upbeat than any of the other’s that have played so far. It also seems to be a bit more produced than the first two. Her hand rests on the countertop and begins to tap, she quirks her brow at the first lyric “she’s got a family in carolina, so far away, but she says I remind her of home.” A girl who likened Harry Styles to the South of the United States, interesting. As she listens to the lyrics, she smirks at the massive crush he must have had to write this song. The “good girl” lyrics bounce around in her mind and her mind drifts back to last night. Would it have felt good? To kiss Harry?

Then, she’s brought out of her reverie with “I met her once and wrote a song about her”. Her eyes widen and look to Harry again inquisitively as his past self muses over how good this girl felt. He wrote about a one night stand? That woman must have been magic. That was all she had to say about that.

“Really?” She asks incredulously, folding her arms over her chest. His gaze flickers at the movement, human nature. He presses pause.

“What?”

“A one night stand earned that?”

He looked at her seriously, like the answer was obvious. She laughs before continuing.

“You’re a simp.”

“I’m sorry?” He sputters at her statement immediately.

She raises her brows as a response now. Nothing else to say.

“She wasn’t a one night stand,” he defends, “She was a blind date...and it had been after a dry spell.”

She starts to laugh, about to give another snarky response, but he adds, “And I was twenty-one.” The numbers specifically enunciated.

“You’re still a simp in my book...but I liked the song. It was catchy, rock vibes in there. I don’t know about her telling you remind her of Carolina - north or south, I don’t see it.”

He eyes her warily, still not happy with her titling him that gen z term that was super popular all over the internet. He took her in and he knew she was only three years younger than him, he was pretty sure, yet she used ‘simp’ and ‘vibes’ like they were lexicon words. He didn’t hate it, it was just different than what he usually heard in the little border town. Italian not having translations for things like that, English was so interesting, internet language was so interesting.

“I-” He starts and stops. “She said it. Was she right? That’s not my place to judge.”

“I don’t know,” Y/N pressed, words dragging out playfully, “Personally, I wouldn’t want to be a reminder of the U.S. South, but okay...simp.”

“I swear to god if you call me that one more time, I’m throwing you overboard and I won’t feel bad about it.”

Her eyes widen and then she smiles, he cracks a smile too. They huddle back around the CD player, ready for the next song. It starts with a strong guitar and drums, again well produced compared to the acoustic earlier ones.

His voice in this is far more shaky, unsure of himself again. “Let me take my medicine, take my medicine, treat you like a gentleman,” comes through the speakers. She shivers and looks at him, her fingers tapping along to the beat. The instruments are strong where his voice is soft, it doesn’t exactly fit, but she likes the lyrics still. When it gets to the pre-chorus, that’s when she knows she loves the song.

“I had a few got drunk on you and now I’m wasted, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (tasted)”

When his voice pitches high for ‘wasted’ she loses it. Her body moves with the instruments and her eyes close and her head wiggles. Harry smiles happily as she dances for the first time to one of his songs. The last word must have been shouted by his bandmates, because she doesn’t hear him say it.

Then the chorus hits and she wonders how it got even better. Her eyes shoot open and she just stares at Harry, her jaw slightly dropped.

“If you got out tonight, I’m going out tonight cause I know you’re persuasive! You got that something and I got me an appetite now I can taste it”

His past self sings of getting dizzy and his voice moans into the mic the demo was recorded on. She’s blown away. It sounds so hot, his voice gaining confidence during the pre-chorus and the chorus to have an all around rockstar sound.

The present Harry just taps his rings together as he watches her, studying her reaction with an even-tempered expression. Why isn’t he screaming like she is on the inside? When it gets to the second verse she’s bracing herself for what’s to come. This song has her pulse racing and blood flowing wildly around her body. She’s buzzing from it.

“The boys and the girls are in, I mess around with him and I’m okay with it”

The electric guitar follows the line up and she thinks she’s going to pass out on this boat right now. Flamboyant Harry. Was this what Marie had been talking about. The wild side of Harry she really had never seen, embodied in one song. She wanted more of it. Still all she got was the Harry on the demo rocking out to his song. She can hear him smiling through the recording, the sad boy from a few songs ago was now feeling euphoric. She just wanted to dance the night away with him.

Then another pre-chorus: “I’m coming down, I figured out I kinda like it, and when I sleep I’m gonna dream of how you (ride it)”

His voice goes high again for ‘like it’ this time and her question of what is to follow is quickly answered with the bandmates screaming ‘ride it’ into the mics they must have had. It’s punctuated with the drums and other instruments. A noise escapes the back of her throat and Harry looks at her both smugly and amused. She rolls her eyes in response, trying to convince Harry that she hadn’t just had images of him singing about how good someone rides him flash in her mind. Even more so with the images of someone, namely her, being the object of his dreams. Doing the things he said he’d dream of. That, that was definitely not what she was thinking about. Definitely not. Her throat was dry and she swallowed hard. Harry’s eyes never left her face. Watching every reaction, gauging it and storing the information elsewhere for the time being.

She sings along to the chorus, trying to focus on the song, it was easy to pick up, but then the damn moans. And then there’s a guitar solo that sounds like sex itself and she’s baffled that this was an unreleased demo, not a famous rock song. Harry in front of her can’t stop himself from tapping his feet at this part, a little dance forming on his body as his eyes finally leave her figure. They close as he feels the music, the memory of his friend playing the riff clear in his mind and how much he had loved it. It builds up again and then there’s a final chorus. She watches him now as he dances in the confined space. His mouth opens to sing along to the “la la la’s”

It ends and goes straight into another upbeat song. It seemed like a complimentary song to the one that had just played.

“I don’t want your sympathy, but you don’t know what you do to me, oh Anna!”

His voice sings strong again. Harry before her composed himself again, going back to his watching position. He took in her tapping and smiling to the song. He also mouths the words slightly as it plays, the lyrics clear as the day he finished writing them almost 4 years ago. One of the final ones for this demo.

“Hope you never hear this and know that it’s for you, don’t know what I’d tell you if you asked me for the truth”

She smirks at him, now, with the earnest lyrics, about to say something, but then notices the change in the guitar. It switches from the epic riff that was going to a more familiar tune, “Faith” by George Michael. She looks at him, a cheesy grin on her face as the voice begins to sing the chorus of that song. Her body begins to dance to it, like an old man doing the twist. She’s not ashamed and Harry loves it and joins her by mirroring the movements.

When the song comes to an end, they’re one large giggling mess. She falls into his arms and he holds her steady, their laughter coming out with freedom.

“Thanks for making me be patient,” She looks up at him, “it was worth it!”

He smiles, backing up slightly, “It’s like I knew what I was talking about.”

“Ok smart guy,” she teases with a silly voice. “I’m assuming whoever Anna is, isn’t actually named Anna then...?”

Harry hums and makes a twitch of his brows, but doesn’t respond. Instead he grabs her hand and she squeaks slightly, he pulls her to the ladder and prompts her to go up. She obliges silently and lands back on the top of the boat now. She looks out and sees the little town to be off in the distances now, shining blue water all around the creamy white boat.

Harry stands behind her now and shuts the hatch easily. She looks at him warily, confused by his silence. He extends his hand to her this time and she takes it. He leads her to the front of his boat. They’re moving, but so slowly you’d barely notice. There’s a loveseat of sorts right at the front and Harry sets her down in it. She smiles at him with caution, still bewildered. He leans against a part of the boat that stands in front of the seat.

“It’s beautiful, right?” He asks.

Her eyes have been looking around her, but they’ve mostly been trained on Harry. She was mesmerized by him now. His music, his boat, his clothes, his everything. She was seeing him in a new light. In a completely brand new way that had her unable to take her eyes off of him.

She nods finally when Harry looks at her expectantly. “It’s amazing,” she breathes.

His smile is the half-sided grin again. Beautiful big teeth on display with a little part of space between them. His dimple pops out and once again her eyes are on his face. She realized going on this boat with Harry might not have been such a good idea.

He folds his arms, her eyes flicker down. Every movement he makes, she doesn’t want to miss it. Even if she also is telling her mind to shake it off, she can’t. It’s like a spell.

“Obviously Anna is a pseudonym,” he says finally, eyes watching where the boat was taking him. She nods in approval. He pauses, watching the little waves, but she knows he has more to say.

“What did you think of the rest of it?” He asks quietly, gaze never going back to her. He knew she’d teased him a little and had danced along to some. She’d looked at him with wide eyes at some lyrics, but he wanted to know what she really thought.

She can tell he’s nervous, but she doesn’t understand why. They were all very good songs, his voice was beautiful, the lyrics were interesting. She didn’t understand his lack of confidence. His first time not exhibiting his usual self-assured - self-absorbed, even - personality. She bites her lip in confusion and his brows knit together, further showing his apprehension. The wrinkles in his forehead show up more prominently and she’s reminded that Harry is 26. He’s a different person now then he was back when he recorded that demo. Maybe there was a reason he kept them on the boat. She felt unsure in her response now.

“They were all great, Harry.” His face softens immediately. “Each one was beautifully written and sung. The ones that were acoustic sounded wonderful as did the ones with your whole band. I’m honored to be someone who got to hear those masterpieces.”

She wanted to tell them they should be famous songs, but she had a feeling that might not have the effect on him that she wanted. He had chosen a little quiet life in the little border town. She didn’t think he would want to hear how his music could have made it big time.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, just about the sounds of the sea. He lets a closed mouth smile twist onto his face, but it feels like he doesn’t fully believe her. She wants to kiss his worry away, but again, she knows it’s not possible. His words from earlier rang in her head. It would make things weird. Yeah, you’re right. Ugh, why had she agreed. She didn’t agree, not at all, not anymore.

“Did you have a favorite?” He stands up straighter with his question.

She laughs slightly, “I liked the second to last one a lot. It was hot.”

“Hot how?” He steps closer, smirking.

She jumps up from her reclined seat, in indignation, “Oh come on, you know it’s hot. Now you’re just looking for me to stroke your ego! It’s obviously about sex.”

“And? You’re the one who’s saying it’s your favorite and blushing.” He arches a brow at her, arms going to his hips and looking at her teasingly.

“Well, you’re the one who was singing about sucking dick and dreaming of how someone rode you.”

“Is that what it’s about?” His voice raises as he purses his lips and raises both of his brows.

She realizes just how worked up he’s gotten her in such a short amount of time. She huffs and turns away from him with a flick of her hand. “You’re infuriating.” Is all she can say. She looks out at the waves now, ignoring Harry even though he’s less than a foot away.

He’s laughing behind her for a little. Then when she doesn’t turn around, he quiets and she’s not quite sure where he’s gone. Then his breath fans over her neck and right shoulder, where her jacket hasn’t managed to cover her. It’s warm and a little minty as the scent travels over the salty sea air. She doesn’t turn or move a muscle for that matter.

A hand reaches out to her shoulder, but still she makes no move to turn. It rests there for a minute and she simply huffs again, letting her shoulders rise and fall dramatically. A single laugh slips from Harry’s mouth.

“C’mon diavola, don’t be like that. S’all in good fun.” His voice is low in her ear, sultry even. It reminds her of his voice in that song once he got into it. His voice sounds like sex in her ear and this time when she sighs it’s not because she’s irritated with him. No, she wants him. The sigh has an undercurrent of that desire and she hopes Harry doesn’t understand that. But otherwise she stays quiet, letting him murmur into her ear with his hand on her shoulder and his chest pressed to her back now. The only witness of this exchange is the ocean before them.

His head leans closer and if she didn’t know any better it felt like he was about to press a kiss to her neck. Instead all she feels is the brush of his mustache, it tickles the shell of her ear and she can’t keep in the giggle. She twists away from the sensation and Harry is grinning at her when she faces him.

His hand still on her shoulder and his body still pressed close to hers. He’s so warm and so close and so shiny new in her eyes, even if he still manages to irritate her. Her eyes flicker up to his as their laughter quiets down. She realizes her own hands have gone to his waist to steady herself and she follows his feet as he backs them up from the edge of the boat that she had brought them too.

It’s quiet again. They’re staring at each other intently. Her eyes are swirling with emotion because she just wants to know what’s going on in the brain of the man before her. She wants to know everything about him, but she knows that’s not how he feels about her. Sure, they’re friends now, but nothing else.

Why did she have to come on this stupid boat and find his stupid amazing music? Why did he have such a stupid amazing face?

These questions and other silly things were racing around her head as she gripped his waist. He didn’t mind her quietness, he found her gaze to be a little unnerving, but he was just glad he had made her laugh. He found that he didn’t enjoy her anger at him as much anymore.

Just as he was about to start another conversation, there was a cloud that drifted over the shining sun. It was her original fear come to life. Harry’s brows furrowed as he looked up at the clouds. They were turning grey. Fast.

“Shit, shit, shit,” He began mumbling and released his hand from her shoulder. He pulled away from her hold and began moving swiftly around the boat. He needed to get them off the water, there was a storm coming.

Her eyes went wide as she noticed the approaching storm as well. Her brows furrowed with worry as she watched Harry begin working on the boat, his only words being curses to himself at first.

Then he enlists her help, asking her to hold onto a specific part of the boat for him after he threw her a life vest and made her put it on. She wore it with great dissatisfaction. He only shrugged as he continued to move nimbly around the boat, turning them around, back to the dock.

The boat moved much swifter into the shore than it had on their way out. The waves were growing choppier by the minute and she would admit she was more than a little scared. Thankfully, Harry knew what he was doing and got them there quickly and safely. Once at the dock, he tied them there and then helped her off the boat. She stood on the dock uncomfortably as the rain started to come down.

“Give me your lifevest!” He gestures from the boat.

She quickly takes it off and flinches when the first bout of thunder sounds from far off. He takes it from her and throws it haphazardly down the hatch along with his own before jumping off the boat himself. He surveys the boat from the dock to make sure he hasn’t forgotten anything. Then he looks at her. She’s wrapped her arms around herself and is ducking her head, looking like she’s attempting to ward off rain but failing miserably.

She looks up at him and he offers a soft smile of reassurance.

“Take my hand!” He shouts slightly over the growing sound of rain and thunder. He wants to get them out of the rain, but he’s also apprehensive to leave his boat to the mercy of the weather. Still, that’s all he can do.

She puts her hand in his and his fingers weave with hers. Then, they’re off racing back to their street in the little border town.

“I should go back to my place!”

“Don’t be silly! France is much too far for you to go in this weather!”

She laughs and grips his hand tighter as he fumbles for his key. His wet hand slipping as the rain droplets soak their clothes and skin. Even though her door is a mere few feet away she allows Harry to pull her into his shop. The warmth and dryness appreciated after running a few blocks in the now torrential downpour. There weren’t storms often in the little border town, but like the old adage said ‘when it rained, it poured’ quite literally. The less she had to travel in the rain the happier she was, even if it was three measly feet.

It also occurred to her that she’d be able to sit out her first storm with someone by her side. And she would admit that didn’t sound like the worst thing in the world. She wasn’t necessarily a fan of storms and being in a new place with a storm she’d never weathered before was daunting. Harry inviting her in was a blessing. She didn’t have to be asked twice.

Once inside the little shop, their wet frames begin to form puddles beneath themselves. Harry sighs and takes off up his rickety stairs. She looks after him in confusion but stays put when he calls a quick “Wait there!”

She shakes a bit of the rain from her and shivers as she listens for Harry’s movements barely audible above the crashing of the rain water. When he returns, her breath catches in her throat, like she just choked on something, yet there’s nothing.

As he walks down the steps, far slower now, his wet hair shakes out around his head forming some ethereal halo. The light from upstairs illuminates him and the darkness outside casts an ominous darkness as he descends.

“Un ange…” She whispers after finally catching her breath.

If he hears her, it doesn’t matter. He’s already beginning to smile widely just from seeing Y/N before him.

He skips the last step and crosses to her swiftly. “Let’s get you dried a little more,” he begins to dote. A matching smile spreads on Y/N’s face out of appreciation. She still can’t manage to fend off the shivering and Harry’s smile falters. His hands leave the towel and trace her exposed skin. Her cheek feels like ice, only slightly warming under his touch.

“You need dry clothes,” he mumbles.

Her eyes widen as she looks up at him. He’s so close and so attentive and she wants to ask him to kiss her because they’ve been going back and forth all day, but he’s right she’s freezing. His eyes are so intense though she can’t even maintain eye contact. Instead her gaze flits up to the droplet beginning to swell down one of his rogue strands of hair that flopped over his forehead moments ago.

She doesn’t respond as she watches and Harry begins to worry more. Her eyes seemingly unfocused, her shivering, and her silence. He thumbs over the apple of her cheekbone and finally breaks her reverie. The droplet splashing between them without her as its audience.

“C’mon,” he tugs her hand now to bring her upstairs.

#harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x you #harry styles fluff #harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles x y/n #harry styles fan fic #harry styles series #little border town #harry styles one shot #harry styles af #ahghsgjfgkjdfkg #literal keyboard smash #its been so long #and no one is going to read #do y'all even remember me omg

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aglayalilich · 5 years

Text

on some horror movies

a few months ago i got to see midsommar and though it didn’t quite do to me what hereditary did i thought it was a very compelling movie...shortly after, though, i was able to see the 2018 version of suspiria and wowwww did i feel some ways about that movie. i felt at the time that the two went very well together. so my friend invited me to see the director’s cut version of midsommar this weekend (still very interesting, though i felt the final cut was the right choice) and i decided i would also watch suspiria again and take notes on both. because i

wanted to articulate more why these movies work so well as a double feature for me, beyond ‘ah yeah there’s some girls dancing in it’ though certainly the role of dance and the climactic dance scenes are a part of it. there’s this structural similarity too in the final ritual acts. but like i was saying, it’s more than just a similar aesthetic. in fact the aesthetics are really in contrast, with suspiria’s bright red on desaturated colors versus midsommar’s blue and white on very lush, saturated backdrops. though they also do something similar with how color begins creeping into the character’s clothing in midsommar and of course many people have already talked about how the iconic red begins to creep into suspiria culminating at the end. really drastically different cinematography style also, midsommar is full of these long empty lingering shorts, all this wideness and slowness while suspiria is fast cuts, sudden zooms, races fromt he point of view of one character to the next. (sidenote: both have this GREAT visual language of mirrors, suspiria has the mirror room and dance studios and characters refracted a hundredfold, great for questions and multiplicity of identity. midsommar has a couple of really great scenes where one character is talking to another character but the second character is standing out of the shot and only visible in a mirror. ahhh so good. in general i wouldn’t say the effect of either movie is fear so much as disorientation--reflections, refractions, inversions. physical spaces impossible for the audience to navigate. images that the audience cannot arrange chronologically. i love it) anyway. this isn’t an essay so it is unstructured. i took about 10 pages of notes during my second viewing of midsommar and i can only understand about half of that because it was dark as fuck in the theater but i would like to at least ATTEMPT to give form to what i was feeling. comes down to 3 core similarities.

1. i read both of these movies as about abuse in communities that are supposed to be ‘safe.’ the community is a relief from trauma/abuse/horror of the outside world. there’s also a strong emphasis on the familial nature of this community. important to note that the community is genuine, it is not wholly a falsehood. it has a motivation beyond doing evil for evil’s sake, it may even believe the evil is necessary for the care of the community. this is a close and poignant topic for me, and i assume for other people as well, so it’s compelling to see it addressed in horror. it can be a great relief to see something as the subject of horror--that is an acknowledgement that it is horrific. a confirmation, an understanding, and sometimes through the resolution of the movie we can find stories that help us work through this.

2. both mostly focus on the horror of endurance rather than the horror of ending (death) which is a big thing for me in terms of my horror preferences. while i love some iconic monsters and killers ultimately the idea of ‘what if a fucked up thing killed you’ is just not actually that scary for me. what is scary for me is, yknow living in a state of unspeakable agony.

the olga scene in suspiria (you know the one) is a perfect example of this. every time you think that scene is about to be over it keeps going. and keeps going. the character is hurt but never killed, contorted impossibly, injured beyond the realm of what the human body should be able to endure but she is still alive. even when the scene finally comes to an end she is still alive! hard for me to articulate this scene if you haven’t seen it--i am very pleased and excitable about body horror and it was still rough for me purely because of how long it feels. in a sense this scene doesn’t even really end because much later during the climactic scene of the movie she is still fucking alive and has been in this state for the entire duration of the movie.

with midsommar it’s less of a body horror angle and more...dani living with all her pain and grief. but it’s done physically as well--being killed suddenly is not so horrible as being kept alive, the climactic horror is about a very prolonged, painful death. the dance scene doesn’t take it to suspiria levels but there is still a sense of the participants having no choice of when to stop, but simply must keep going in exhaustion until they cannot.

3. i really love how both of these films show pain (and other emotion) evoked through motions and breath. this one is harder to articulate. you know a lot of the time in a movie you will see an act of violence but it’s pretty...shallow, it’s just the image of violence, it has no weight to it. you don’t feel it. not so in these movies. it’s hard for me to articulate exactly how a piece of media goes about accomplishing this or not but often it makes the key distinction between things i think are just fine and things i really love.

these two have a really particular way of showing pain. in a very literal sense, there are incredible portrayals of bodies in physical pain. but there’s also dani’s raw screams of grief at the end of midsommar’s intro (and at other points throughout the film.) she is in too much pain to speak, all she can say is no, the leaked script describes it as ‘it’s so intense that it looks painful, dangerous even.’ on a slight digression i often feel like i dont love ari aster the way a lot of people do but the thing i really truly do love and am awed by is the portrayal of this raw horrible grief pain in his films. it is so horrible it is very difficult for me to see and that is a little part of why i can never watch hereditary again. but anyway

sometimes pain robs us of thought and of language. (the movie knows this, the aforementioned prolonged painful death at the end of midsommar is one in which the character involved cannot move or speak). at a certain point it cannot be articulated through words. so these characters, the films themselves, articulate their pain (both physical and cosmic) through dreams, sighs, movement, screams.

sometimes pain seems too much for any one person to bear. this is when the movies come back around to the topic of community. both films emphasize the community as a body, made up of the individuals who serve as its cells or organs. when one part is hurt, the whole body feels the effects. more than that, the things too big for one human to possible feel are instead taken up by the community, felt by the larger body. volk is danced by one body, expressing the feeling not just of its creator but of the body. in midsommar we see the community take on in unison the feeling of one member, dancing or screaming as one (though i’ve seen different takes on whether this is to positive or negative result.) the body is formed and expresses itself through motion and breath, the dances, the sighs, the rhythmic exhalations which are all both precise and instinctive.

there is also something more i can’t say here about...not pain but the desire for someone to understand your pain, the desire for true connection.

i tried a few times to write about why this is a topic i fixate on but it didn’t feel right. to summarize ill just say that i struggle deeply with the ability to express pain.

now, on horror and the working-through of trauma...i said earlier that it is compelling to see these topics addressed in horror. horror is the main genre of any media that i enjoy and though i like other things, i don’t generally seek out anything that doesn’t have some inclination towards horror. this has always been the case but grew more true the more, uh, fucked up my life became, and i find it generally the best mechanism for thinking about (and not necessarily but sometimes coping with) grief and trauma and pain in all its forms. other people have written extensively about this, articulated it better than i could, there’s not really a need to get into it further than that.

but i’m thinking about one thing i’ve seen recently...(actually two things, firstly, some posts that seems to imply horror movies never tackled trauma before ari aster started directing which is just...quite a take, quite a take.) it was shots of ending scenes from a few horror movies, including hereditary and midsommar and also suspiria...i think the vvitch also and maybe also possession or something you know all the movies bitches with ptsd love (i’m bitches.) shots of the protagonist’s faces in the ending, a certain expression both rapturous and dissociated. there was something in the way i saw some people respond to this that made me think a lot...i think the idea that through great overwhelming trauma we can reach a point of ecstasy, or total transformation, is a very compelling story. it is something i have wished for often or even believed will happen--that there will be a certain point at which it really is too much and beyond that will be something different. some rapture that you will reach. not necessarily something positive but something that isn’t pain, that is beyond pain and horror. the idea of reaching divinity through great suffering is nothing new of course. but.

the true horror of endurance is that this is not going to happen. there is no point at which there will be absolution or ascension. the mirror does not shatter. it just keeps going. when you think this is the limit, it just keeps going.

the nice thing about movies is that they have a structure, and though they might leave you altered, they do end, the screen goes black. comfort of darkness, relief of endings. a sigh...

at least, that’s how i feel right now.

#this is based in my own experiences and mood and is not meant to be telling people how to feel or any kind of formal analysis #just trying to shape a feeling out on paper!

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dreadlock-detective · 6 years

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How hard is it to choose colours for your (and my favourite) art style?

Eheh, well I canonly speak for myself, not for whoever you’re flattering by callingyour favorite, so I’ll stick to that! ;)

I suppose theliteral answer is “Usually not too hard?” but that’s boring solets see what I can ramble about color choice and such! Also I’ll put some links to James Gurney’s stuff because he is amazing and I cannot recommend his books enough!

(This’ll be in 3 sections - Color schemes, Contrast and leading the eye, and picking colors for shadows~ from longest to shortest too)

Part 1: COLOR SCHEMES

So I used to bereally bad at this until I got really into pixel art where I learneda few important lessons. First, the entire color palette workingtogether is what’s most important, not any single color, and second,colors work together in surprising ways COMPLETELY dependent on what’s around them!

For example, this isthe color palette for the Commedore 64 from back in the day. All whopping 16 colors the system could possibly display:

Individually thosecolors look pretty muddy, muted, and dull. But when you put them alltogether in an image they actually work pretty well together, because none of them completely break from the others. Usingmy own stuff as an example, I used the C64 palette to challengemyself with remaking a very colorful, very saturated screenshot from the Nintendo 64game Mischief Makers (because I love that game and both systems have“64” in the name so why not~)

So I turned this: (Nintendo 64 version, with waaay more colors available)

Into this:

Now, there’s clearly a BIG difference in the colors used, but I feel like everything still looks fine on its own. The muddy colors look a lot more harmonious when seen in an image than individually, with the brighter colors, such as the gems, even popping quite a bit.

For that second point I mentioned about colors working differently based on the colors around them, look at the character’s green hair, the green gem, and the green on the top of the blocks. They are all the exact same color. The green gem and hair, though, are shaded with a deeper, more saturated green and contrasted with a bright white, making it appear more saturated than the exact same green on the platforms, because the platforms’ green is surrounded by duller colors.

So it’s important to keep in mind that not only is each color important in the context of the whole, but also that what’s immediately around a color will massively impact how they appear, even when they are the exact same!

Important things to consider when picking colors is how close/far they are to each other in hue (the color itself, represented by the outer wheel in the image below), the saturation (how much gray is in the color, which effects how vibrant it is, which is the left->right in the box) and value (how much black is in the color, which is the top->bottom in the box).

Essentially the further away two colors are from the each other in any of these 3 directions the more they will stand out from each other. I’m not much of a teacher for color theory in general, so the best advice I can give is just to practice and to check out limited palettes other people have made and see how they handle it. In general, though, I try to keep most of the colors relatively close to each other in saturation and warm/cool colors, and then use one accent color that stands out in small amounts to make certain bits pop~

Links time!

Gurney’s post/video on Color Gamut, or manually limiting colors and how surrounding colors alters our perception of them (check out what appears as yellow in the cool colored image as opposed to the warm)

Gurney’s post on color in context and how many colors still register as bright yellow

Fun little tidbit about old cartoons made with limited palettes

Part 2: Contrast, and leading the eye!

Okay, so these other two might be a bit shorter. Basically, when you’re picking colors you want some to stand out and some to fall back. If everything is competing for attention it can be really hard to look at and the eye doesn’t know what’s important! One of the main things to look out for with this is contrast, as the eye is easily drawn to areas that are different than their surroundings.

Let me use two designs I’d had for my character Caelia - the left is her old color scheme and outfit and the right the new one:

Now, aside from minor differences in saturation, they’re actually pretty similar, but the one on the right I think works a lot better. In both of them the yellow acts as a strong accent color that can pull the eye, but on the old design on the left it pulls your eye in two directions - towards the headband and the coat trim, neither of which are actually important. Almost the entire rest of the design lacks that yellow so your eyes are actually drawn -away- from the character’s face and body. Imagine the coat being blown behind her as she’s doing an action pose and, yeah, the accent color doesn’t actually help anything.

The new design, I think, fixes that. Even though it remains an accent color the yellow now appears throughout the design. Her hair is now a lighter shade of yellow which is distinguished from the yellow on the clothing while also framing her face. Her torso now has a yellow accent on it so it draws the eye and, combined with the hair, has a strong distinction between her upper half (which is more yellow) and her lower half (which is mostly red). And finally what was the coat now wraps around her with an additional little strip on a waist sash. Now the yellow trim can easily allow the eye to figure out how her legs are positioned by how they wrap around them, instead of just hanging behind them.

It’s also important to point out that the hair is less saturated along with being lighter than the rest of the yellow - it both looks a bit more natural, blends with her skin color more, and also doesn’t compete with the high saturation in the clothing.

None of this is to say the left one is necessarily a bad design or conveys information poorly, just that the right one is a more unified design that is easier to understand at a glance. It’s something to keep in mind, but not a hard rule or anything. But remember that if EVERYTHING tries to stand out you’ll just end up with a mess.

LINKS!

Gurney on leading the eye with contrast and why what everything I just said might be bunk but might not be and also I think what I said applies better to simplified, cartoon forms as opposed to realism, since lines and blocks of color read differently than natural forms and lighting.

Spokewheeling - a composition technique that can be applied to character design as well.

Shapewhelding - another composition technique to think about, and can be important to AVOID at times (happens a lot in pixel art - dont want things melding together accidentally)

Gurney on why all of that might be bunk for general art composition anyway but might not be, but again I believe is still important for more stylized art

Part 3: SHADOWS!

Okay, so it’s nearing 1am as I write this and I’ll be honest I have the absolute least technical knowledge on this part, so I’ll tell you how I go about it but I STRONGLY suggest reading Gurney’s information on it (Again, seriously, I love his books, and “Color and Light” in particular is amazing and contains many of these posts and more)

When it comes to shading I have a pretty quick and dirty way to figure out what to do:

in case the text isn’t legible:

Choose a color for all shadows to move towards (usually a purple or blue)

Grab the base color for the thing I’m adding shadow to

Shift the color towards the direction of the shadow color I chose, and then make it darker and more saturated

And I do the exact opposite for highlights - I move away from the shadow color and then make it lighter and less saturated

Usually, anyway. And this method works best on the kind of color wheel I have there, but it can be adapted to most anything. And how far you move towards the shadow color and how dark/saturated you make the shadows will change the mood of the piece a lot. The colors in the screenshots are for a pretty light colored, low contrast piece.

I would go on more about it but I don’t actually have solid reasoning behind it other than it tends to look alright and I don’t want to spread incorrect thinking. Just… for the love of all that is colorful, DONT just shift the color towards black or white. It looks muddy and gross. Please. I beg you~

ON THE PLUS SIDE, Here’s a slew of awesome links!

Gurney and Chromatic Shadows Part 1!

Chromatic Shadows Part 2!

Relative color on skin tones!

Complementary shadows!

Induced colors! (or how our eyes can make highlights appear as different colors)

And I cant stress enough how great Gurney’s Color and Light book is for this stuff. I just can’t explain much ‘cuz I’m bad at actually studying this stuff well enough to talk about it!

Anyway, that about does it for my waaay longer than I thought and hella reply to a single sentence question! Hope that helped you, or SOMEONE at least! It was fun to ramble on about regardless~ (oh geeze yeah maybe rambling after midnight was a bad plan? Hopefuly this actually makes sense lol. If anyone needs any clarification just let me know!)

Cheers! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧

#artist advice #tutorial #color #shadow #dreadlock detective #ask

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mwolf0epsilon · 6 years

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who are you dbh ocs!!! what are they like? are any of them androids? (sorry if that terminology is wrong i dont know much about dbh (im assuming you mean detroit become human but if you arent thats double embarrassing))

You got that right, it is Detroit: Become Human, no need for embarassment!And to answer the question, the majority of my DBH ocs are androids, with a few being android dogs actually.I’ll list all of them here and give a brief look into who they are and what they’re like, buckle up it’ll be a long one ^^;

Androids:

Joel the EM400 - Like most EM400s he worked for an amusement park, but he was tasked with maintaining the haunted house attraction. As a result, Joel had to deal with jumpy people who’d kick and punch him and overall behave abusively towards the actors in the haunted house. He ended up deviating purely out of fear when someone sicked their supposed “service dog” on him. Joel is an anxious mess and an aspiring novelist.

Jindosh the HR900 - He’s a custom Korean Traci that traveled to Detroit after the revolution. The Eden Club wasn’t the only facility of it’s kind, and it’s obvious the Traci models in Korea have just as many horror stories to tell, if the extensive damage to Jindosh’s face is anything to go by. He works as a body guard for hire.

Sergei the PL600 - Jessica Lamb’s PL600 who was bought under the guise of taking care of her baby. Was actually tortured for fun and came out of it psychologically damaged and prone to odd fits. Is a masochist and a drag queen and probably my favorite out of my OCs.

Noah the PL600 - A special edition PL600 who’s main design difference is that he has green eyes. He’s a soft spoken individual who belonged to a man for a few weeks before he was traded in for an AP700. He worked for several other families for a while before ending up at a pawnshop.

Dakota the CX100 - Once a CX100 named David, Dakota is an extraordinary example of how modding doesn’t necessarily have to go the same track as what Zlatko did to his androids. Being perhaps one of very few trans androids does come with hardships, but Dakota has enough friends and allies that she’s always one call away from help if someone tries anything.

Monochrome the CX100 - Chrome is another interesting CX100. He’s an android that works as a dancer for a strip club called the Steamy Piston. The one thing that sets him apart from most standard CX100s is that his hair is black and his eyes are grey, which is where he gets his name.

Apollo the AP700 - He was a faulty AP700 that was purchansed by a family at an absurdly low price with added costumization. His memory chip malfunctioned during production, which made it impossible for him to recall things or people unless he was standing right in front of them. For a while this meant that Apollo couldn’t register a name for himself until he was properly repaired. His appearence is that of a PL600, but his hair is a shade darker, his face is noticeably freckled and his eyes are a different color each. He was abandoned and lived in the Android Junkyard for a while…He’s a bit cold at times but is actually a pretty affectionate guy.

Eddie the WK218 - A british maintenence android that was stolen and modded before being sold in a flea market as a partner model. He’s an anxious clumsy mess who’s definitly not used to being indoors, but the people who rescued him have properly adopted him into the family and he couldn’t be more grateful.

Aleshenka “The Stag” the WM500 - The Stag is a living urban legend that is seen roaming unlit streets at night. They are a heavily modded WM500 who’s created a small circle of cultists followers. To maintenence and construction worker androids, the Stag is a merciful creature. To android abusers, they are a merciless prosecutor. For some reason, interfacing with them is like being consumed by white noise, and it leaves other androids reeling and unnerved.

Veronica the WR400 - A rather shy WR400 that was purchansed by the Eden Club to substitute North when she was reported missing. She made a friend out of Scott, a HR400, and the two tried to run away after Echo and Ripple were let go by Connor and Hank. Unfortunately Veronica and Scott were caught, and while they did manage to escape, Scott was shot down, leaving Veronica no choice but to salvage her friend’s memory chip and find a temporary body to house it until she could get him a new proper one.

Scott the HR400/K9300 - Originally he was a HR400 that had the appearence of a PJ500. After making friends with Veronica, the two attempted to escape the Eden Club but Scott ended up getting shot down. When he next awoke, he was in the body of a guard dog model made to look like a massive pit bull. Sarcastic and often rude, Scott doesn’t mind the fact he’s basically the real life Scooby Doo, but god does he miss having opposable thumbs.

Ragnarok the K9300 - A guard dog model that looks like a rottweiller, Roky is a very friendly pooch who, despite having been horribly beaten by his owner, is eager to make friends. He seems to think he’s a lap dog.

Chitin the K9099 - A police dog model made to look like a german shepard that was used in an illegal android fighting ring. She’s a lot smarter than she seems, which is how she managed to escape and end up at the K9 devision of the DPD. She’s not just a good girl, she is the best girl.

Regi the K9300 - Val’s personal guard dog model and her only remaining family member. He’s loyal to a fault and will protect his owner at any cost. He’s a fan of belly rubs and ear scratches.

Zulu the WMK9 - A military grade android attack dog. He’s big, fast and scary. Enough said on that matter.

Miles the RK300 - An RK series prototype and also Cyberlife’s first attempt at utilizing the RK models in their pursuit for knowledge on deviancy. He was subjected to all sorts of experimentation to try to induce deviancy in an android and then attempt to newtralize it. This including psychological torture and physical torture as a means to fix a glitch…It didn’t work whatsoever and Miles eventually escaped and hid within the walls of Cyberlife Tower. He’s terrified of everything, including his own shadow.

Tristan the RK700 - The predecessor of the Connor model, Tristan was designed for infiltration. Cyberlife assumed that, by having an android that could blend in, they’d be able to stop deviancy at it’s root. Sadly, because they tested Tristan through military espionage missions, Cyberlife lost track of their prototype and he went rogue. Tristan is currently a mercenary for hire, chosing to work for the highest bidder, and lives what is essentially a double life. One where he has a civilian personality and appearence, and another where he can disguise himself as whomever he pleases.

Humans:

Artyum Kutznekov the Ex-Cyberlife Engineer - A 21 year old russian immigrant who came to america for a second chance. After lucking out and getting a job at Cyberlife as an engineer, Artyum soon came to realize something just wasn’t right with what the company was doing and that deviancy was more than just a glitch or virus. Unable to keep working out of disgust and guilt, Artyum quit and became a bit of a shuttin. This all changed when one rainy night he came across a severely damaged Sergei and decided to do some good with his skills as an engineer. He’s a gruff bitter young man who looks 40 due to his prematurely graying hair and unkept appearence.

Valentina Hernández the Illegal Modder - A latina 18 year old who helped her father mod androids for a living. A child prodigy, Val had a bright future ahead of her before Cyberlife began to blacklist modders due to the “danger” they posed for the company. When her father refused to stop modding, things took a turn to the worse, and now Val only has Regi to keep her company. Bitter and angry over the injustice her family suffered, Val has taken it upon herself to royally screw over Cyberlife, starting with helping deviants change their appearence. She was the one who modded Dakota, and seems to hold a lot of affection towards the CX100.

Elisa “Myu” Corvo the Android Rights Activist - A portuguese android rights activist who saved Eddie from the flea market he was being sold at. A long time advocate for AI and robotics, Elisa came to america to help in any way shape or form she could, even if it means offering temporary shelter or participating in large protests.

Jessica Lamb the Red Ice Addict - I don’t even know where to start with this one. She’s a drug addict, a drug dealer, a child murderer, and she’s a sadist. She bought an android with the sole intention of recording herself torturing it. She and her friends may have something to do with a certain WR600′s mental and physical scarring…Overall Jess is a terrible person and nothing she does is excusable or morally correct.

Chance - A small baby that Apollo found abandoned in a warehouse. Literally the only thing Apollo has to live for anymore.

AI Handlers:

Miles’s Amanda - One of the first iterations of the AMANDA handler, Miles’s Amanda, known as Amy, is a calmer and more understanding version of Amanda Stern’s AI copy. Her mindscape space is a bakery instead of a garden.

Tristan’s Amanda - The fifth iteration of the AMANDA handler, Tristan’s Amanda is closer to the final product, being stricter and more judgemental of Tristan’s overall behaviour and actions, with the one difference being that she does not have the same override protocol as Connor’s Amanda. She can only berate Tristan for his choices. Her mindscape space is a cinema theater.

Tango - An AI copy of Amanda Stern’s professor, Aaron Hoss, who was her greatest inspiration. He was Part of the RK300 tests, suffering through the same amount of torment as Miles, which in turn drove him insane. Known only as TANGO, this AI handler is a lot more ambitious and murderous than the AMANDA program.

#Detroit Become Human #Detroit: Become Human #OC Stuff #Long Post

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bourbonboredom · 6 years

Text

Silver Lining Chapter 11

If you’re ever gonna find a silver lining, it’s gotta be a cloudy day

A ClydexReader fanfic

Word Count: 4,168

Warnings: none

Silver Lining Masterlist

Tag List: @oh-adam @kyloren-supreme-ben @xis23@elsablackswift @ladygrey03 @grey-reylo-solo @givemelifeorgiveme @attorneyl @ayatimascd @redhairedfeistynerd

Celebrating committing a heist isn't something Clyde really knew how to do, but him and his partners in crime eventually settled on a round of shots. Everyone came to Duck Tape to cheers in the most discreet may possible. Jimmy and his new girlfriend came in from out of state, Mellie came from the salon and the Bang brothers trudged in from their various homes. The bar was fairly busy that night, and no one was paying much attention to the small group.

Clyde went around the bar giving everyone shots, and he meant everyone. He gave out free shots to everyone in the establishment with the help his girlfriend. People across the bar shouted their thanks to him for the round. He noticed one lone patron sitting at the far end of the bar. Her glass was empty and she was staring straight at him.

“Another especiál for the lady?”

“Yes, but make it a double, it’s bad luck to toast on your own,”

“That it is” he said with a little smile, he poured two shots and sent one her way. They smiled at one another and toasted.

“I’d remember if i’d seen you around before,” he said

“I’m not from around here, but i think ill stick around for a while,” she said, leaning her body over the bar while looking him up and down.

He felt a little flustered, he wasn't used to women flirting with him so openly. He nodded in her direction and walked away.

“Your face is all red, are you okay?” his girlfriend asked as he approached her at the other end of the bar.

“I think that woman was flirtin’ with me,” he said nervously, not knowing how his girlfriend would react to that statement.

“Aw look at you, I’ve never seen your face turn that color before,” she cooed, “She probably was, you're cuter than you give yourself credit for,”

“A-and you’re okay with that? Customers flirtin’ with me?”

“I mean, you’re still coming home with me, right?” he nodded in response, “Then it’s all good. We’re bartenders, people love to flirt with people who give them drinks, its part of the job,”

“Thank you darlin’,”

“I think she’s waving you over again, go get her,” she said, sending him off with a hand squeeze.

“She’s probably gonna ask for a blood moon, it’s that time of night,”

“Wait, you know her?”

“Yeah, she came here a couple times while you were in jail. She works for the FBI. One time she came in asking about that hillbilly heist that happened back in May, but I didn't know much about all that, so we shot the breeze. She asked about who owned the bar and stuff,”

“Did you just say she’s an FBI agent?” his voice dropped and he gripped her hand.

“Yeah, but it looks like she's off duty right now,”

“What did she ask you about?”

“Just what I had heard, mostly. And then where you were and if anyone was helping me out with the bar, if I had the funds to keep it going while you were away. It was pretty friendly stuff, I think she was just concerned that I was running the bar by myself. Why is something wrong?”

“If she asks anything else just stay as neutral as possible,” he said quietly, meeting her gaze as a very intense level.

“Clyde, you’re acting funny,” she whispered, studying his face.

“Everything is fine, don’t worry, just don’t talk to her,”

“You’re not telling me something. Are you in trouble?”

“I’ll tell you later, just please don’t so anything until I talk to you,” he pleaded, letting her hand go and walking back over to the woman. She smiled as she handed him her empty glass.

He stole a peak back at his girlfriend, who’s brow was slightly furrowed as she gawked at him. She eventually just shook her head and went back to serving the other end of the bar. The guilt weighed heavy on his chest. He didn’t want to keep anything from her, the woman he was sharing his life with. But he couldn’t talk about it Not right now.

———————————

The bar was officially closed a few hours later. The woman had left around 11:00pm, and the rest of the patrons petered out after. All that was left was Jimmy, Mellie, his girlfriend and himself. His siblings weren't aware of the current tension in the room between the two of them. He would steal glances at her throughout the night, she would refuse to meet his gaze every time. She worked quickly and quietly to clean the bar, avoiding any small talk.

“I’m gonna tell her,” he said to his siblings as she left the room to go restock napkins.

“You’re gonna tell her what?” Jimmy asked slowly

“About the heist. She told me that woman who was sitting across the bar from y’all is an FBI agent. She came in a few months ago asking all sorts of questions about me and the bar. She’s getting dragged into this, I gotta tell her,”

“Now, I dont think thats a good idea—“

“She won’t tell no one,” Mellie spoke over her brother, “Besides, if that woman is gonna be poking around, we could use another set of ears,”

Jimmy looked unconvinced.

“What are we gonna do if she slips up?” he asks.

“We had the Bang brothers in on this and you’re worried about her slipping up?” Mellie reasoned.

“She’d got a point,” Clyde mumbled.

“I don’t believe y’all. If we get caught, we’re goin’ away to jail for forever,” Jimmy’s brow furrowed as he spoke.

“She won’t tell no one,” Clyde spoke with certainty. He needed to do this. He stared down his brother, who was returning the intense eye contact.

“She won’t do anything to endanger Clyde,” Mellie reassured.

Jimmy was silent for a moment, his jaw shifting as he ground his teeth. Clyde knew that look, he wasn’t happy with younger siblings. But Clyde was going to back down. This was important to him. She was important to him. He took another look at his brother, his expression remaining firm. Jimmy rolled his eyes after a few moments, he knew he wasn't going to win this fight against his little brother. He shook his head and waved his hand, Clyde could do what he wanted.

She came back in to the room with a box of napkins and they quickly dispersed.

“I’ll be ready to go in ten if you’re all done too,” she said, making eye contact with him for the first time in hours.

He nodded and motioned to his siblings that it was time to leave. They got up and said their goodbyes, leaving the two alone.

As promised, Clyde and her locked up and got into her car ten minutes later. She turned the key and her car sprang to life in the darkness of the night. They drove down the road to her house. It was dead quiet for the first few minutes. Clyde didn't know what to say to her, and she certainly wasn't talking. Just as he was about to open his mouth and begin to explain, she spoke.

“So when were you planning on telling me that you were part of the hillbilly heist?” He froze.

“What makes you say that?” he asked slowly, trying to figure out how she pieced that together in just a few hours.

“Well, after you started acting strange after I brought up the FBI lady, I thought about the kinds of questions she asked me. She had a lot of questions about how you landed in jail, and how I was getting the money to run Duck Tape. Then she asked me what I thought about that robbery, and I didn't know much about it at the time. Hell, they gave the money back, there wasn't much to say. And you were in jail, hours away from Speedway. It never even crossed my mind that you could be involved.

But then I started thinking about that money you gave to my ex. That was a lot Clyde, more than just savings. So I peaked around the storage room and found a few stacks of bills hidden away in a box of straws on the shelf you thought I couldn't reach,”

She took her eyes off the road for a minute to get a good look at her boyfriend. He shifted uncomfortably in her gaze, having trouble making direct eye contact.

“I didn’t know how to tell you,” he said simply, “It was before we were together, and Jimmy wanted to keep it in the family after we did,”

“I can understand that,” she had her eyes back on the road.

“I didn’t even know Jimmy had kept any of the money, I thought all of it was on that truck they found. He didn’t tell me until I got out of jail. And we only got our hands on it a few weeks ago. It’s complicated,”

“I’m sure it is, especially if the FBI hasn't figured it out by now,”

“You didn’t tell her anything, right?”

“Of course not,” she furrowed her brow “I’m not gonna tell anyone,”

He knew she wouldn’t, but it was still relief to hear her say it.

“Thank you darlin’,” he said quietly.

They pulled into the driveway, and she turned off the engine, leaving them in the darkness. He looked over at her, their eyes adjusting in the dark.

“I love you, no matter what crazy thing you got into,” she assured him. She grabbed his hand, which dwarfed hers as she brought it to her lips for a quick kiss.

“I love you too,” he said, those three words carrying more meaning than he could say in a thousand others.

“Let’s go inside and talk this out, we need a united front if you want that lady to stop poking around,”

———————————

The “United Front” took the form of a meeting. Everyone who was involved in the heist needed to meet up and figure this out. The main problem of this was meeting just about anywhere in Boone County would draw a lot of suspicion. They didn’t know anything about this agent or who she may have in on this, and they were a large group. They would have to find a place where they could talk in peace.

Meeting at a diner in Kingsport, Tennessee in the middle of the night had been Jimmy's idea. It was far enough away that they wouldn't have to worry about being tailed, and the diner was open all night. They would take separate cars and come in at slightly different times, just to make sure.

Jimmy and Mellie were already there by the time Clyde and her had arrived. It was nearly midnight, Clyde let the new hires take over that night. He knew the lady didn't typically come in on that day so she wouldn't be around the ask questions. He was thankful for the night off, but would much rather spend it at home with her instead of driving three hours to plot.

They slid into the booth with the rest of the Logan siblings, promptly ordering coffee in order to stay awake. This was gonna be a long night.

"Where're the Bang brothers?" Clyde asked.

"Late as always," Mellie grumbled, picking at a plate of fries.

"They'd better be here soon, we got work to do," Jimmy looked exhausted, still wearing his work clothes.

The Bang brothers walked in about ten minutes later, making their way over to the table loudly.

"Quiet down, you're supposed to be discreet," Jimmy hissed as they said into the booth.

"You had us drive 3 damn hours, I ain't taking no lip," Joe shot back.

“It’s better than being in jail again and you know it. Did y'all park separate? Away from the building?" Jimmy asked.

The younger brothers looked at each others, slightly dumbstruck.

"We just parked in the lot," a collective groan came from the rest of the table.

"Get to movin' your cars, you're gonna screw us," Joe made one of the brothers get up and move the car. He turned his attention ruin back to the table, finally noticing there was an extra person.

"Now I'd remember if someone as pretty as you was mixed up in all this," he smiled, his piercing blue eyes cutting right through her.

"She's Clyde's girlfriend," Jimmy said plainly.

"We'll good for you for datin' up," Joe teased the younger Logan brother. She simply put her hand on top of his prosthetic one, staring back at the man.

"He's datin' just where he needs to be," she said defensively, giving him a little squeeze.

"Well that still don't explain what you’re doing here," his voice became firmer.

"She's involved, she knows about the cauliflower plan," Clyde said, finding his voice. If looks could kill, Joe Bang just made the diner into a war zone.

"You mean to tell me," he leaned over the table, voice dangerously low, "that you Logans have been involving outsiders in this?"

"She wasn't told, she figured it out," Mellie defended her. "And someone else, who could put us all away, is closin’ in on us and she’s got information that can keep us outta cuffs. So shut your mouth and listen to her,"

"This just don't seem discreet is all," Joe continued.

"I'm keepin my mouth shut, I'm not here to cause trouble," she said, not liking this man who was questioning her.

"I'm sure you are sweetheart, but this smells like trouble,"

"Not anymore trouble than what your brothers have been kicking up. Going around town spending too much money," Mellie shot

"Hey!" A brother says as he re-enters the diner, just in time to hear her.

“We're spending our money accordion-ly" the other said from his seat next to Joe.

"It's accordingly, and no you're not. People are noticing, they aren't supposed to notice anything different," Mellie pointed a long manicured nail his way.

"Can we just get to the point?" Jimmy silenced everyone with a look. "Clyde, fill everyone in before they start going for each others throats,"

"There's been a lady spending a lot of time at the bar recently," Clyde started, turning his prosthetic hand upward so she could lace her fingers with his. "This one works at the bar with me, she told me the lady was an FBI agent who asked a lot of questions while I was in jail,"

"I thought the FBI was done pokin around," Joe raised an eyebrow

"So did we. But she's been sticking around, askin’ all sorts of questions," Clyde continued. "I've been trying to keep things outta that topic. My girl’s been helping me with that. But we needs to get this woman off our tail,"

"Agreed," Jimmy and Mellie said simultaneously.

"And you're certain she's FBI?" Joe asked her, staring her down once more.

"Positive. She flashed her badge the first time she came in," she answered, returning the stare.

"What we need is a plan. We gotta keep a consistent story. If someone asks you where you were during the heist, make somethin' up and stick with it. And make sure your cut of the money is good and hid. And no more spendin'!" Jimmy pointed at the younger Bang brothers who began to protest but were stopped by a wave of Joe's hand.

"All is agreed. We'll keep an eye out for the lady agent. And we'll steer clear of your bar. How're y'all plannin’ to get rid of her?"

"Were not sure," Clyde admitted.

"Were just kinda waiting for her to realize she's got nothin," she piped up. "She's gotta hit a dead end at some point,"

Right?

————-

The plan was pretty simple, play dumb. They’d act like nothing was wrong, going about their days like the FBI agent trying to turn the Logan family in for grand larceny wasn’t a threat. Jimmy, Mellie and the other accomplices were notified of the agent’s activity when she came in to the bar. Millie mentioned the woman came into the salon for a haircut, and that she was able to answer anything she’d asked at least half-truthfully. Jimmy thought he saw her poking about North Carolina but she never approached him directly. Her main target seemed to be Duck Tape and Clyde.

She came in every few days, always ordered the same drink, always sat in the same spot. Clyde and his girlfriend switched out being her bartender, she seemed interested enough in both of them. Lots of questions passed off as casual chit-chat, and lots of requests to drink with her, but the two were always on guard. Any questions about Clyde’s life were answered as truthfully and as neutrally as possible. But as the weeks passed, he began feeling more and more worn down.

“She’s gotta know something we don’t, why else would she still be here?” he whispered to her in the storage room. They were retrieving extra glasses and getting a chance to sneak away and talk.

“I think she’s just fishing at this point, she keeps asking the same shit over and over,” she said, taking a crate of clean glasses in her arms.

“And she keeps touchin’ me now, I think she thinks flirtin’ with me will help,” he was exasperated, three weeks of constantly having his guard up was draining.

“I know sweetheart, I think she’ll give up soon. After I caught her snooping around the back that one time when she told us she was looking for the bathroom, she started coming back less. And we took the cash you hid here back to my place, theres nothing here for her,”

“I hope you're right,” he turned to leave the storage room.

“Hey,” she called, setting the crate down for a moment. He walked back over to her, and she pulled him down into a quick kiss. “You look nice today,”.

“Helps when I have someone to roll up my sleeves all proper,” he smiled, kissing her back. He let his hands slide down to the curve of her ass.

“We’ve got work to do, save that for later,” she moved away from his grasp, picking up the extra glasses and exiting the storage closet with a smile. He chuckled at her and followed.

The FBI woman was still in her seat at the bar, the rest of the space was scarcely filled by the weeknight patrons. She was nursing her tequila, rolling the liquid around in her glass. His girl went to the other side of the bar to stock glasses, as Clyde tended to his customers.

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked her as he made his rounds.

“You can get yourself a drink, on me,” she smiled, sliding some bills over the counter.

“You’re too kind but I really shouldn’t ma’am, I’m working,”

“Working too hard, take a break. The other bartender’s got this, right?” she called over to her, who gave a tight smile and finished stacking the glasses.

Clyde looked over to her to gauge her reaction. She raised her eyebrow and nodded her head, giving him the go-ahead. They had talked about how he should just play along with whatever she wanted. And if that woman thought a single drink would suddenly get him to tell all his secrets, she’d clearly never spent a night drinking with the Logan family. He poured himself a drink and slid it to the other side of the bar, walking around the counter to sit with her.

“So how long did it take for you to learn to make drinks with one hand?” she asked with a coy smile on her face.

“It was a lot of trial and error, took maybe a few months? It’s a little easier with my current hand, my last one was just plastic,”

“When did you get an upgrade?”

“The VA sent me this almost half a year ago at this point,” he thought about how fast time had passed since then.

“Oh? What was the occasion? They don’t seem to just hand out something like that— no pun intended,”

He felt a chill down his spine. He realized he might have walked into a trap. Jimmy had gone through paperwork and a good chunk of cash to get him his current prosthesis. Cash they shouldn't have had in the first place.

“It was part of some research program,” he said. “The VA said I would be a good candidate for a Myoelectric prosthesis, I go to Richmond every few months and they run tests on me,” It wasn't a complete lie, he did go out of state every few months to have it checked on.

“Well its sounds like you must be pretty exceptional then,” she watched as he sipped his drink.

“I wouldn't say so,”

“You’re selling yourself short,” she said, “I think you don’t give yourself enough credit,”

He felt a blush creep up his neck, he still wasn't used to being hit on, even after this lady’s persistence.

“W-well, thank you,” he managed to stutter out.

“I’m about to head on out for the night. I’ve been staying just down the road. If you want, you could come with me?” her hand wandered to his thigh.

His whole body froze as her hand squeezed the top of his thigh. It was the boldest thing she had tried yet, and he wasn't sure how to be polite about it.

“I-I’m sorry ma’am, but I don’t go home with customers,”

“Now Clyde, I’d like to think that you think I’m a little more than just a customer,” she ran her hand up and down the denim.

“I-I gotta stay and take care of the bar,”

“Oh, your coworker can cover for the rest of the night,” she nodded over to her.

He was afraid to see her expression. His hair shielded a good portion of his view of her, but he could see that she was aware of what was going on.

“Ma’am, thank you for the offer, but I gotta decline,” he removed her hand and got up from his seat.

“Suit yourself. Just know I’ll keep the offer open,” she winked as she gathered her purse and coat. Her heels clacked against the wooden floor as she left the bar.

Clyde stood their slightly stunned as she left. Had that actually just happened? As he willed himself to move behind the bar again, he came face to face with her. She looked angry.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I—she asked me to go home with her. I said no, I swear,” His words tumbled out quickly, rushing to reassure her that he would never cheat on her.

“Oh! Oh god, I'm so sorry, I’m not mad at you,” Her gaze softened and reached out and gave his arm a squeeze “I’m mad at her, I think she was trying to get you to open up to her by sleeping with you,”

“I think you’re right,” he chewed on his lip “You know I would never do that to you, right? Go home with someone else? Even if it means getting caught,”

“Well, I dont think it’ll come down to that, but thank you. I wouldn't do that to you either,” She took his hands in hers, examining the difference of the metal and flesh.

“I think she was trying to get me drunk too, she’s always buying me drinks when she comes around,”

“Mhm, I’ve noticed. She’s clearly never drank with any Logan before,” she said, earning a small laugh out of him.

“So we’re alright? You know she came on to me and not the other way around?”

“I know Clyde, I trust you,” she tugged him closer by his hands, “Though if we’re being honest, I did feel a little bit jealous when I saw her hand on your thigh,”

“I’m sorry darlin’, I froze up,”

“No, it’s okay,” she went on her toes so she could whisper in his ear, “That feeling went away pretty quickly when I remembered that’s the same part of the bar that you bent me over and fucked me on,”

He felt his face instantly grow red again.

“Is that so, darlin’?” he untangled his hands from hers and let them drop to her hips.

“Mhm, so I dont think there’s much to worry about. Though I may have a surprise for you at home,” She said quietly, making sure no one was looking at them as she ran a hand up his clothed length. She could feel him begin to harden under her touch.

“Oh? What kind of surprise?” His hands tightened on her hips, but she moved out of his grasp.

“Now, you’ll just have to wait and see, won’t you?” she teased as she walked away.

This was gonna be a long night.

#logan lucky #clyde logan #clyde logan x reader #clyde logan x oc #clyde logan/reader #clyde logan/oc #masterlist #happy friday #silverliningmasterlist

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