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#Sometimes feels like everyone is projecting on those characters rather than *writing about them*. And I can't find them anymore

sarahreesbrennan · 4 months

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Are all the themes in “in other lands” supposed to be a commentary on something? Or do you just like writing sex scenes between minors, age gaps, and reverse misogyny?

Genuine question.

Ohhh, my dear anon, I don't believe this is a genuine question.

But it does bring up something I've been meaning to talk about. So I'll take the bait.

Firstly. Yes, my work contains a commentary on the world around us. I wonder what I could be doing with the child soldiers being sexually active in their teens (people hook up right after battles), and the age gap relationship ending in the younger one being too mature for the elder. What could I possibly have been attempting when I said 'how absurd gender roles are, when projected onto people we haven't been accustomed by our own society to see that way'? I wasn't being subtle, that's for sure.

Secondly. Yes I do enjoy writing! I think I should, it's my life's work. Am I titillated by my own writing, no - though I think it's fine to be. The sex scenes of In Other Lands aren't especially titillating, to be honest. It is interesting to me how often people sneer at women for writing romance and sex scenes, having 'book boyfriends,' insinuating women writers fancy their own characters. Women having too much immoral fun! Whereas men clearly write about sex for high literary purposes.

… I have to say from my experience of women and men's writing, I haven't found that to be true.

I’m not in this to have an internet argument. I prefer to leave my anons open since not everyone has a tumblr, as @neil-gaiman says it’s an internet backwater, but a lovely one for those like myself who enjoy an essay about fictional characters! Still I will close my inbox to anons if I must. Mostly people use bad faith takes to poke at others from the other side of a screen for kicks. But I do know some truly internalise the attitude that writing certain things is wrong, that anyone who makes mistakes must be shunned as impure, and that is a deeply Victorian and restrictive attitude that guarantees unhappiness.

I've become increasingly troubled by the very binary and extreme ways of thinking I see arising on the internet. They come naturally from people being in echo chambers, becoming hostile to differing opinions, and the age-old conundrum of wanting to be good, fearing you aren't, and making the futile effort to be free of sin. It makes me think of Tennyson, who when travelling through Ireland at the time of the Great Famine, said nobody should talk about the 'Irish distress' to him and insisted the window shades of his carriage be shut as he went from castle to castle. So he wouldn't see the bodies. But that didn't make the bodies cease to be.

In Les Mis, Victor Hugo explores why someone might steal, what that means about them and their circumstances, and who they might be - and explores why someone else is made terribly unhappy, and endangers others, through their own too rigid adherence to judgement and condemnation without pity. The story understands both Jean Valjean the thief and Javert the policeman. Javert’s way of thinking is the one that inevitably leads to tragedy.

Depiction isn't endorsement. Depiction is discussion.

Many of my loved ones have had widely varying relationships to and experience of sex (including 'none'). They've felt all different types of ways about it. If writing about them is not permissible, I close them out. I'd much rather a dialogue be open than closed.

I do understand the urge to write what seems right to others. I've been brain-poisoned that way myself. I used to worry so much about my female characters doing the wrong things, because then they'd be justly hated! Then I noted which of my writer friends had people love their female characters the most - and it was the one who wrote their female characters as screwing up massively, making rash and sometimes wrong decisions. Who wrote them as people. Because that's what people do. That's what feels true to readers.

I want my characters to feel true to readers. I want my characters to react in messy ways to imperfect situations. I love fantasy, I love wild action and I love deep thought, and I want to engage. That's what In Other Lands is about. That's even more what Long Live Evil is about. That sexy lady who sashays in to have sexy sex with the hero - what is her deal? Someone who tricks and lies to others - why are they doing that, how did they get so skilled at it? What makes one person cruelly judgemental, and another ignore all boundaries? What makes Carmen Maria Machado describe ‘fictional queer villains’ as ‘by far the most interesting characters’? What irritates people about women having a great time? What attracts us to power, to fiction, and to transgression?

I don’t know the answers to all those questions, but I know I want to explore them. And I know one more thing.

If the moral thing to do is shut people out and shut people up? Count me among the villains.

#bookblr #discourse #in other lands #long live evil #les mis #carmen maria machado #writing

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cerise-on-top · 2 months

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ALLO!!!!

how are you, love?!?!!? I hope driving practice has been good!!

I was wondering this the other day, cuz I was rereading one of my favorite posts of yours about Rudy, and I’m curious, why does he feel the need to be strong and not be seen as weak? Like, why doesn’t he initiate that besides feeling like it would bother his partner? I wanna know who HURT MY BABY!!! >:(

Hey there!

I'm doing fine, thank you! How are you! Driving has been alright! I passed my exam and soon I will be driving with my mother for practice! I plan to get the practical exam done sometime before November :D

I can actually give you two answers to your question, a short, but truthful one, and a longer one! Under the read more so I won't clutter anyone's dashboard ^^

In short: Rodolfo is, surprisingly, the character I project onto the most while writing! So, yeah, him being the way he is is just me projecting my personality onto him!

The long answer would be that he's actually got a bit of toxic masculinity in him. All those characters have been in the military ever since they were young, where I always liked to think the men would be rather toxic, not wanting to be seen as weak and just wanting to show off how strong and cool they are. I don't usually show too much of it in other characters, but another character who grew up and internalized some toxic masculinity, in my writing, is Soap. But he handles it a bit differently from Rodolfo. However, he would want to be seen as a traditionally strong man as well.

Rodolfo was shaped by his time in the military and started believing that he was not to show very many emotions either. Sure, he will show that he's happy, that he's somewhat annoyed, but not usually to the extent he really feels it, unless there's not a lot to that emotion in that moment. Everyone around him was a show-off, was cocky and somewhat immature as well. He has always been more mature than others his age, but it still rubbed off on him. Deep inside he does still want to show his emotions. But that's showing weakness to him. Sometimes he just wants to cry and have someone comfort him, he almost always wants someone to hold him and be sappy with him, telling him how much they love him. It doesn't even need to be a romantic kind of love, if a good friend of his was to ever tell him that they loved him then he'd be over the moon, even if he'd just answer with a simple "thanks".

Ever since he joined all those wannabe machos that believe that being strong means never showing how damaged you are, he sort of became like them. Sure, he usually has his emotions under control, you usually can't tell he's too upset unless he's about to tear someone's throat out, but that also means that the people close to him will never really hear the truth. He needs to be the big, strong man in your relationship, anything else just isn't acceptable. While he may not believe in all that alpha male nonsense, he does believe that he should be the one to make more money than his partner, that he should always take the bullet for them, that he should fight off any and all competitors out there.

It's more extreme when his partner is a woman, or female aligned, because in that case he really feels as though he has to be her pillar, that he can't show any "weakness" at all. With enough persistent persuasion, he could slowly change his mind, but it would take a while.

That toxic masculinity is also the reason why Rodolfo, as I write him, prefers men. Don't get me wrong, he still loves women, but when with a man it's not as extreme. He won't show everything he feels, but he'll be a bit more at ease. Even initially, he can be more open with a man because there's a kind of kinship he doesn't immediately have with a woman. If his partner is more open with his feelings, then he has a slightly easier time as well. If his partner is a "weak" man, who needs to be protected, then that's alright too. It shows Rodolfo that men don't always need to be those strong, aggressive beings. Besides, that toxic masculinity he believes in applies to him the most, it's not as severe with other people. So he won't hold his partner accountable for showing emotions or being affectionate with him. In fact, Rodolfo actually likes it when his partner is being affectionate with him, it means that he loves him. Rodolfo is affection starved anyway. Sure, Alejandro is affectionate with him, but it's not nearly enough to satiate him. He's very much like a black hole in that regard: No matter how much affection you throw at him, it likely isn't enough. He loves affection, but he won't show it through "normal" means, such as initiating a cuddling session, unless explicitly asked.

If asked, he will do just about anything since that's his job as a strong man, to make his partner happy. If you ask to hold him, then that's one of the only times he'll "swallow his pride". In reality, he could cry because he really just wants to be held. Deep down he wants to be pampered and taken care of as much, if not even more so than, his partner. He's actually a real sweetheart, he just can't show it all the time. Wants to be peppered in kisses and be told that he's the most handsome lad in the world. But alas, he can't even ask for comfort. If he's sad then he'll just swallow it down, not wanting to bother his partner, and, of course, to "seem stronger than he actually is".

So yeah, Rodolfo really suffers from all that toxic masculinity nonsense.

#cherry chats #do I tag this as #Rodolfo Parra #sorry this got really long I just have a lot to say about Rodolfo ^^;#but yeah toxic masculinity is a disease and Rodolfo caught it when he joined the military #he may not be as aggressive as other men. hell he's not a casanova either but you will mostly see him feeling neutral #so no one really hurt him he just became like that because of his environment #as mentioned before: Soap also has that. Graves too #most of the men do. not very many of them are entirely comfortable in their masculinity and need to show off whenever they can #I genuinely believe that Gaz is pretty comfortable with where he is though #but he's one of the only ones #while not all of them want to be pampered like Rodolfo they do want to be the bigger and stronger person #I'd even go as far as to say that someone being “stronger” than them would be a dealbreaker for some of them #Rodolfo would feel conflicted in a situation like that. he wants to be protected deep down #he wants someone to be stronger than him but he's not sure he could let something like that happen #so yeah! sorry again! thank you for letting me rant though! ^^

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mcalhenwrites · 1 month

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It has always been very hard for me to talk about my childhood abuse. I can only somewhat do it now. I mostly just dump all that trauma right into a character. It's easier to deal with that in fiction rather than talk about the reality of it, particularly when I feel - and I'm surely not alone in this - like I can't change it. It happens to so many of us. It's so normalized! Abusive childhood details ahead but when I wrote Adversary, I created a society that punished children in various ways. One of them was to throw them in a religious maze with terrifying depictions painted on the walls at night so that the child had to figure out how to light the pitch black maze with candles. Each candle had a color and needed to be lit in a certain order. (Some kids memorize this, but yeah.) That comes from my mom getting upset at me for having a tantrum when I was four, and when we got home, she shut me in the car and went inside. It was pouring rain. I had no idea how to get out. I figured out locks that day - this was a long time ago, so we didn't have electronic locking systems or alarms. In fact, the car was old (poor family) so it didn't have electronic windows either. When my brother and I were playing with our blankets, using them as capes, my dad got angry about it. Said that wasn't what blankets were for and took all of ours away for a night. I was always hiding under mine because I thought aliens or monsters or ghosts would get to me if I didn't, so I was up all night in a panic because I couldn't hide. I can't say if I've translated that into one of my stories, but surely I have. Then there's stuff like... In TDC, Roscoe asks Wayne (his father) if he can have broccoli with dinner. Wayne rejects the notion, but he's pissed about it. Then he immediately changes his mind and says they can fix it, but he says it angrily, as if Roscoe forced his hand. Even though he simply asked once and dropped it as soon as Wayne said "no". And now, no matter what he does, he's been set up: if he says it's okay, they don't have to have it, Wayne will blow up at him. If he agrees to fix it, Wayne will hold it against him that he got what he wanted and will likely bring up "We would have broccoli in the house if you hadn't insisted on eating it." Roscoe isn't trying to win or lose, but he's been put in a situation where that seems to be the case. Over something as innocuous as wanting broccoli for dinner. It's Wayne, setting Roscoe up. Which is a reality I lived through time and time again with my father. It fucks with you deeply. It makes every choice you make something terrifying. You aren't supposed to have choice. I was my maternal grandparents' least favorite child, and they constantly allowed my cousin to bully me to horrific degrees. Then when I was writing Seasons, I was in a "polycule" (girlfriend at the time had another partner) where I was suddenly being ousted more and more from the relationship. It tore open a ton of old wounds that I am forever everyone's least favorite. So that ended up being a core part of Howie's experiences as well. It just hurts too much sometimes to talk about it in depth, and sometimes I don't even want to be a person. I want to be a machine who write stories and doesn't have to need or feel things. I put all that pain into my stories, because I like to write, but I also need to get out those emotions. Express them in a way that isn't ripping my skin apart because I share blood with some shitty people. (Yes, that's... an actual thought that I'd have a lot in the past. Not so much these days, but I'm also just writing and projecting more shit onto characters.)

#'if you write about it you like it' yeah I distinctly did not like it actually that's why I'm writing about it!#it's also an additional bonus when people are angry at Humphrey or William or Vivian! it's SO VALIDATING

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unhappytimeleaper · 2 years

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Hello, can I request Shu × reader from that yandere alphabet prompt, um, oh can you write it using Shu's name the letter S, H, U and have a great day.

Original request from anonymous

Word Count: 3,100+

Shu is awful. I love him. One of my top ten characters. Anyway yeah, I’m still taking request for the yandere alphabet [mainly for enstars but other fandoms are fine too]. Anyway, as a note, I won’t specify what job ‘mc’ for this is working but it’s meant to imply they are apart of staff in some way. If you want to imagine them in the place of Anzu, you can, but I don’t want to intend it to be that’s the only way. I personally prefer the idea that you work along side Anzu as a friend/co-worker for a few different reasons, but if you don’t want that just see it as you wish since it’s never clarified.

Also, I’m not sure if they are comfortable with me mentioning them by name but I wanna thank my friend for encouraging and reading this beforehand. You know who you are.

Itsuki Shu; unedited. Gender neutral reader.

Warnings; yandere content, isolation, stalking, and slight violence.

This blog is 17+ please have your age in your bio or tagged; any ageless blog and below the age asked for will be blocked at the end of the week.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them?

The general answer is childhood. Pretty much, all of his issues extend from being rooted in his childhood and the way he was treated by his parents, kids his age, and later on as a creator. It’s also deeply ingrained in his sense of superiority and creating the perfect image of art. More than that, it’s Shu’s way of filling the loneliness and fears he experiences, because despite his arrogant and harsh nature, Shu seems to be deeply haunted by his past. We also know by the way he speaks to Nito and sometimes Mika there is a comfortability in seeing people as possessions, it’s a way of securing the fantasy of how his life is in his mind into reality which eventually translates into his relationships.

Now more into specifics. What brought this onto you and not someone else. To start, it really is a piece of separating his life into different parts. After the downfall of Valkyrie and Shu having to pick up the pieces of his mental state, he learned to let go of those in the group to be human. To be their own people, but this also is what taught him how to be better in the sense of never having to feel this level of loss again. I explain it a little more below, but being with Shu doesn’t come fast, rather gaining the trust and friendship of Shu takes a long time. You chose to stick by Shu’s side and often by his terms the entire time. You seeked to understand him and often do things his way. This isn’t to say he controls you entirely during your friendship; it’s not like in the past with Valkyrie where you simply give in as it’s easier, but more often than not, you learn to understand his actions and approaches to life. This accumulates in when hanging/helping out with Shu, you try to do things in a way that suit his needs.

Furthermore, supporting him in general is something that greatly influences his attachment. Knowing he doesn’t understand technology so going out of the way to write letters to him while he’s in France, supporting his designs/hobbies, and extending kindness to what he continues to do in the future. It’s the little things of knowing that Shu truly has someone who stands up and cares for the things he does that draws him in. The problems would start when Shu manages to break from his bubbled view of the world he has with you and see that there is more. You don’t only treat him this way but everyone you work with. That there are other idols and people ready to take away the affection you directed to him– the attention you give to him. You let other people touch you and listen to their fashion advice. That when you aren’t in the craft room working on your own projects as he sews, you're off with god knows who doing god knows what. It’s hard to say that you won’t become like others– notice his flaws and eventually abandon him like the others.

That’s when everything comes back around, the emotions of loss and fear. That you’ll do what humans do and become corrupted, with Shu [+ Mademoiselle] left to pick up the pieces of his mind and heart. It does slowly make Shu more overbearing and possessive; if he’s around, he tends to constantly be popping up to drag you off with him for whatever task he can think of. He gets the help of Mika to ensure he knows where you were or who you were with, as well as Mika becoming a very unscary guard dog to keep strangers away. His comments, once threats to hurt you from intruding on his space or time turns into threats of others, that you need to be watched and kept away so they can’t ruin your opinions on him.

Eventually, things become a snowball effect– he finds it hard to even work on projects without you in mind. If it’s not about random aspects to you as inspiration its about who you are with, what you are doing, where you are, how you are. There never was a specific thing you said or did differently. You can spend all your time racking your brain at what you could have done differently to have kept Shu in a normal state of mind, but there will never be an answer. Guess the biggest hint you can find would be the days Shu sketch designs all focused on one person– although it will be hard to gain access to those sketchbooks.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

I’d personally say the aftermath of when Shu first acts on a threat of physical violence, even more, how it plays out after. Part of this would come from a few angles as to why it’s one of the worst— although compared to many other yandere’s, it’s probably hard to label the worst as Shu would be decently unbearable the majority of the time. For one, I think even something like this would come as a shock to Shu partly as it’s known he’s quite weak, even he is aware of this and has to rely on other skills of his to keep you in check most of the time. Also, while often giving very horrendous threats of violence to you [far before Shu started his romantic exploitations], no one has taken him seriously as he mostly says these comments in passing frustration. Even you likely wouldn’t take him seriously, given that getting close to him in the first place would require becoming accustomed to his ‘colorful’ language. Beyond the pinch of an ear or dragging you somewhere by the wrist, nothing had ever caused harm past a few hours.

Finally, the last reason is due to the complex nature Shu likely holds. On one hand, he’s moved on from the people are dolls aspect he once held, but as a muse, you still have to be treated with the perfect care of an antique. Violence is something he often wouldn’t want to consider, never wanting to damage you. After all, it’s likely a huge factor as to why you’ve been locked up. But you already appeared so full of marks and scars… while he’s helped make them fade to match the beauty you should exhibit, he doesn’t want to leave anymore on you. Just like the treatment of Mademoiselle, Shu touches you often with the most delicate ways and often gets extremely worked up if someone goes to even brush some lint off your outfit. Yet he couldn’t help it! Perhaps you were going on about something after a few warnings or making some sort of escape attempt. He really didn’t mean to push you down so hard, but the frustration he usually keeps inside managed to boil over and your footing. It’s nothing extreme, a small twist of your ankle and your wrists hurt from the attempt to break the fall, but enough to bring tears to your eyes.

One of the biggest things that would have to become part of the routine is understanding how Mademoiselle functions between the two of you. Despite playing the role of a lover to Shu in this state, it’s rare that his softness will leak through, and he keeps himself quite guarded— something present throughout the entirety of the time you’ve known him. It’s not that he doesn’t have moments where he acts and treats you like a significant other, and over time he becomes much more comfortable. Still, overall it’s obvious Shu has always struggled to communicate more positive/caring things to those around him. Nevertheless, you often do understand Shu’s true feelings through the conversations you have with Mademoiselle. Unlike how many others portray Shu as not needing Mademoiselle as his obsession grows, I don’t think her presence ever disappears entirely because of how his connection with her is built. There will always be fluctuations of her around as Shu’s mental state shifts; you can often tell if it’s worse if Madem is around more (giving hints on when it’s better to not cause issues, less you want life to get a lot worse). Mademoiselle knows Shu better than anyone else, but for the sake of understanding, she isn’t Shu alone— her own personality who is kind to you and a mediator of his emotions. She lets you in on his feelings (wing-doll of the year), extends kindness, offers moments of advice, although most aren’t very helpful as most tend to just be giving into Shu’s whims, and if you’ve been under Shu’s lockdown information about the outside world.

Shu’s anger and fear would likely still be running high in the heat of the moment. He’d turn around and promptly leave the room, shutting the door behind him. In the aftermath of the shock, you’d be left to pick yourself up and hobble into the bathroom to wrap up the injury and, if lucky, perhaps see if you could find some pain killers [whether or not you find them is questionable]. It wouldn’t be for a few more hours that you’d hear the door open and Shu slinks into the apartment. Not in the mood to talk given that issues from earlier would likely still be extremely sensitive, and being hurt was something that came as a surprise. It wouldn’t be until you felt the bed sink a little more as Shu sits next to you. Mademoiselle stares at you; she apologizes for Shu, saying you might not forgive him right this minute but Shu really didn’t mean to hurt you. He just was startled, and you’ve seen how he can be with intense emotions and doesn’t like it when people overrun their mouths. Just give it time. You’ll come around and remember the person Shu genuinely is. The Shu who was your friend. While you understand what she is trying to do— what she represents— it twists the knife deeper into the memories of when you did consider Shu a friend; now, it feels mocking. Like a mother scolding two kids who got into a fight on the playground or over a toy, that the situation can just be fixed with a mutual apology.

It hurts more that Shu would just scoff; you deserved to be punished, didn’t you? It’s the only way you’ll learn! You should be lucky he did something so simple— he could have done something far worse. Mademoiselle has heard it all, the things he’s threatened, so she should know. Despite everything, you can see on his face the remorse if you look hard enough. It’s something the average person probably wouldn’t notice, but after so much time with Shu, you can tell deep down hurting you was never a part of the plan. The rest of the night is spent in silence from both of you, stuck wallowing in the misery of you trapped in this life and Shu not knowing how to make it back to how it was before while keeping you protected in his fantasy.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

One of the main things would be how long it all takes for this to go down. See, you have some yandere’s who move too fast, or you have others where it feels like a sudden snap. Even with some, it feels like it’s progressing in a very normal way. With Shu, it takes an extremely long time for everything to reach its peak. In fact, this is what makes it so hard to avoid— so many of the warning signs would be brushed off as “that’s just his personality.” The fact is they aren’t wrong either; everyone would be semi-used to his creepy, threatening comments especially knowing how Nito was treated yet it’s never been something he’s acted on so it really feels like harmless Shu being his eccentric self. Eventually, you would get used to it as well because of how long it seemed to take for Shu to reach the point where he feels he needs the relationship. It takes months to even get Shu to really even acknowledge you, maybe having a few conversations with Mademoiselle in the time being while Shu himself spends most of those insulting you.

Progressing a ‘friendship’ with Mademoiselle actually would be the ticket to getting closer with Shu as well. And at the pace of a snail, that’s how it starts. It’d likely starts with passing conversations where he’s still quite hostile but enough to actually gather some information on him, to a more casual discussion, walking with him to the cafes to get a croissant, only to have him begin to seek you out. Reasons would be to have another set of eyes on his practice [a stopwatch is good timing down to the second, but nothing can combat the feedback from someone else], to want to eat his meals with you, even getting to enjoy your presence while he works on projects. Another consideration as to why this would take so long is because Shu constantly is going between Paris and Japan; until he’s decided you need to be kept from the world, Shu doesn’t necessarily bother with taking you with him. Once having what can only be seen as tsundere like friendship, you might hear from Shu more often with calls, something you never would expect given Shu’s rough relationship with technology. Or him seemingly coming to you for general information like how to work the computer, which leads to trying to get FaceTime to work and Shu seems to become obsessed with that form of communication. All of this ends up being an extremely long process where if Shu wasn’t as messed up as he is, it likely could have progressed into a normal relationship if he had just talked to you.

One of the biggest things would be how everything with Shu is a walking contradiction. You’d probably be let on early into a friendship that most things would be difficult with Shu given how he naturally is, but love only seems to make it worse. It goes from the basic hot and cold nature of his personality, from constantly showing praise on how you’re his muse, his inspiration– but still holds his sharp tongue in his remarks that come off as insulting. To how he throws himself into work for hours, barely giving you a hint of attention due to focus he has yet doesn’t want you gone from his sight for even a second. How he claims he knows you’re real, you aren’t a doll or item but treats you delicately enough in how you can't do anything without him, something for him to dress up, and will be dirtied by people if they get their hands on you.

Even to the little things. Shu doesn’t necessarily like to be touched, and if you often make the first move, might be startled; however, he always seems to want to have his hands on you in one way or another. Often just to fix something but also as a sign of possession-- something like cuddling late at night or having you sit on his lap while he’s working on more simple projects. Probably the most ironic and funniest to tease him about more simple concepts. Something like how Shu doesn’t understand the appeal of swimwear or fancy undergarments— yet he’s the one always trying to undress you and feel under your clothes for his designs. Or as high and mighty as Shu is, often being taken down by simple technology having to come to you for help despite not wanting you to have access to such. This is all just the start, listing out every other contradiction could take forever. Either way, if you’re not worried about making him upset and making your day worse with his mood, you’re stuck doing cartwheels to understand precisely what he wants now things are ‘furthering in a relationship.’ At some point you probably are mentally exhausted enough you don’t have energy to be physically resistant to his poking and prodding while working.

Lastly, there is one big difference, and that’s how freedom works. It’s very fast into this idea of Shu seeing you as more of a partner and muse that he needs to keep isolated, but also not something Shuu can do easily compared to many other yanderes. In general, being an idol makes it challenging but he moves around so much as it is Shu doesn’t want to just leave you in the apartment alone… or with Mika necessarily. It’s not even the lack of trust in Mika either, although it’s not like he’d be able to babysit you 24/7, giving you plenty of time of time to disappear if you tried. Mind that Shu knows you’re not quite the same as Mademoiselle, but you eventually become a sense of comfort in the same way. Inspiration, a muse for his craft but also a way to relax with the stress that comes from his daily life, we already know how intense Shu is, and he probably calms down a good 2% with you around. So lucky you! You’ll end up being stuck going with Shu wherever he goes.

Holed out in the crafting club making outfits for a performance, that’s your room for the next few days. Although, be aware you’re expected to not leave the room even if Shu has to leave for a few hours to pick something up for his work [or is hungry enough to need something to eat though he’ll make sure to bring something back for you]. Better get used to traveling as you’ll be going from France to Japan quite frequently. However, despite not being fully chained and locked up in a room, that doesn’t give you much freedom. If you aren’t playing ‘dress up’ for Shu, you’re often stuck in the corner or next to him holding Mademoiselle and left to your own tasks. Usually there won’t be much to do, perhaps reading or drawing, or some other hand-held craft, given that you aren’t allowed to have access to a phone/tv nor talk to anyone. Well, unless you want to face Shu’s anger which no one really wants, it seems everyone knows to simply avoid trying to start a conversation [if they even could get close enough]. It’s incredibly isolating, but somehow hurts even more given that you are left watching the world move past you without being a part of it anymore, given the tight leash Shu has. After all, he has had a lot of time to think about how to keep you from breaking or straying too far with the downfall of Valkyrie in the past. Guess one good did come from that experience.

#enstars.leaps #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere writing #yandere enstars #yandere ensemble stars #ensemble stars #enstars x reader #yandere shu #yandere shu itsuki #shu itsuki #tw; yandere #tw; isolation #tw; stalking

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glitch-in-the-system · 5 months

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dividers from here

Introduction

Main

Helloo!! I'm Pichu/Peaches, Freakazoid extraordinaire.

I've been in this fandom for... over a decade at this point-- wasn't around for when the show proper aired, but got into it from some internet video or another, and had been lurking for awhile before I finally made my contributions to the fandom (and hope to make more).

Huge writer (esp of Freakazoid in general), and hope to one day dip my foot into art as well. I'm as small as you might think from my name association, and while I tend to act more impulsively than I think I like to imagine it leads to some neat revelations from me than if I waited a long time.

No strict DNI, I usually decide who I don't want to interact with via blocking. Bigots get blocked on sight. Would also rather not interact with anyone making pedophillic or incestual content with Freakazoid-- which I think is unlikely but, y'know, covering my bases.

Projects

My current planned Freakazoid projects are as follows:

Glitch in the System - Arc 1, 2, and 3.

My initial project for the fandom, that I've since taken to rebooting due to several elements that I thought I could rewrite better. Planned to have three eventual stories.

Spark!

A more 'traditional' reboot in that it's a lot more typical-- hero fights a rogues gallery and what not, with way more action scenes within it. While more 'simple', I'm not intending it to be entirely flat either.

@F!

My current much bigger project-- taking place in Electri City, and focusing on how this city affects our protagonist... and those he's wronged in order to progress his streaming career.

Freakaspective

A project on this very blog! I'm currently going through the freakazoid series to make comments on it-- from jokes, to headcanons, to what could be pulled for a reboot. In general it's just an excuse to have a re-look at a show I love very dearly.

I'll likely share tidbits of all three of these projects at one point or another-- and also write short stories/drabbles/portions of scenes from all three that I'll post in their own short story collections-- both to get a vibe of how i should write it............ and also so i'm writing something so i don't get brain mold lol.

Discord

I also run a freakazoid discord server! It is open invite, but I will verify everyone who comes in before they get full access to the server. It is also intended to be a 16+ space.

Tags

My tags are as follows:

#reblog

#walky talky - my personal talk tag.

#freakanswer - answering asks

#Freaka art - art i reblog

#freakafic - writing i rb

#freakaboot - for stuff relating to freakazoid reboots/reboot concepts

#crossover - anything that has any crossover elements to it

#freakameta - behind the scenes stuff and analysis's

#freakaspective - for my freakaspectives. what episode and season it is will also be tagged.

#f!gits - tag for my freakazoid fic series, glitch in the system.

#spark! - tag for my freakazoid fic, Spark!

#@F! - tag for my freakazoid fic, @F!

#freakaquestion - questions about the show Freakazoid! Meant to make you think on both the show itself and any fic/freakaboot potential stuff.

Sometimes I will reblog things that I feel are related to my projects or characters in general and also tag them as such

Other tags will come as needed.

I hope you enjoy the blog!!! woooOOooOoSOSHSHSHHS

#pinned #intro #freakazoid #walky talky #freakazoid blog

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circa-specturgia · 1 year

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Birthday cake, Milky Way, train, and love letter for the ask game

—@italiangothicwriteblr

Thank you for the ask! ✨

I’m gonna answer it for two characters if that’s alright, namely Cas and Mask if that’s alright! I’ve been trying to develop the two of them in my head a bit more recently, so this is a good opportunity! ✨

🎂 Birthday Cake - When is their birthday? Do they like celebrating it?

Neither of the two know when their birthday is, exactly, both having been created artificially, but both have chosen dates for their birthdays that they felt meant something to them. I can’t decide on exact days as I don’t know if my setting will have its own calendar and timescale and all, but Cas’ would be in the Winter, and Mask’s in the Summer.

Cas chose the date he fell to Istra, and met Ciro. He decided that whether or not he had a life prior to this one, this was the day that would be as good as any to serve as a date of birth, with how it was the start of a new point in his life. It was mostly chosen by his friends who pointed out that it’d been a year since he’d first come to Istra, which he accepted as a good date.

Mask on the other hand chose the day that they met Cas. That day they felt a shift, due to their energies coming into contact with one another, sparking the start of their evolution into their own person rather than a mindless doll. That, according to them, felt like their “birth day” when asked about if they had one.

🌌 Milky Way - What was the inspiration behind your OC? What was the first thing you decided about them?

Cas : it’s hard to remember inspirations as he’s just such a mess at this point of inspirations and things I’ve removed, I’ve had him since 2018 or so… As for first thing, his name, I think? I was trying to think of a name I could use for a character for the writing project I wanted to start which has since then become Circa Specturgia, and Caspian hopped to mind.

Mask : Similarly to Cas, I can’t recall exactly what the first ones were. I do know that I began with a desire to write an enemies-to-lovers relationship, and so I began coming up with ideas for a character to act as an antagonist for the main group. Both Cas and Mask are characters who I came how with a looooong time ago so sorry if I don’t really remember their original concepts 😅

🚊Train - What is their answer to the trolley problem?

Cas : He chooses to save a loved one over the 5 other people without a seconds hesitation. It’s not even a question, if he sees his friends and 5 people he doesn’t know, he’s saving his loved ones immediately. Whether or not he feels guilt for it later is something my I’m still thinking on though as I’m playing around with him…

Mask : They find it difficult to really get what the problem with it is. And try and figure out if they can kill everyone. But with the version of the single person track holding Cas or someone else they’d grown to like or appreciate, they’d also pick the other five people. Unlike Cas though it’s less about loyalty and more about not really valuing human life. As they grow and come to understand it more, they’d see it as more of a dilemma, but would likely still chose to save those they care about.

💌 Love Letter - Do they like love letters? What kind of messages do they leave for their partner?

The two of them have a very particular love language. While they don’t have the time or lifestyle to write one another love letters, Mask began to leave marks for Cas, at one point, in order to communicate, leave behind messages. Eventually this evolved once they’d gotten closer.

Mask, initially, is very much of the “Please Do Not Observe Me” mindset. They don’t like being seen or watched and prefer to hide in shadows, exist as a sort of ghost. Their name is literal, as they’d wear a mask, eventually toning it down to face wrappings, like a blindfold and a face mask, then eye wrappings, eventually being comfortable enough to remove them, for Cas, and sometimes for others, though they’d till prefer to wear those even then. They enjoy hiding out in shadows, even once they’d grown more accustomed to people, as it feels more natural.

As a result, Mask likes to communicate through little signals and signs, tugging on Cas’ shirt or sleeves, or manifesting voices only Cas can hear, when he wants Cas’ attention. Asking for affection, however, can be more physical, in the form of inhabiting the shadows on Cas’ skin and caressing his body, choosing how to do so depending on what sort of intimacy they crave.

The two of theirs habit of leaving messages from before they grew close remains, however, leaving subtler little hints now across places they spend time in if needed. Ie, Mask planting some wispy shadows on a table they know Cas will pass when leaving a room, to sign that they want some time together!

Thanks for the chance to develop these two some more!!! ✨

#writeblr #writers on tumblr #writing community #writing #answering asks #emoji ask game #ask game #wip.circa specturgia #circa specturgia

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thestobingirlie · 1 year

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Omg yes, I've been part of lot of fandoms and most ending were like: a) the show got cancelled and the characters never got justice or ending for that matter, or unexpected cancellation so they had to tied up loose end to the season that in pre-prodution so most of the plotlines were never explained or they games of thrones type of ending, and if i am honest st started loosing sense once they decided to go the 'bigger is better - quantity over quality- which is visible in season 4, and then there you have bunch of people that will claim that everything was planned ahead even tho, stranger things was supposed to be anthology series meaning each story will be only season long and then move on to another plotline or story with different characters but Netflix/people feel in love with these characters so they kept writing for the characters that we know/love but sometimes the characters act ooc it's like those arcs were planned for different characters and they just kept the names of the characters from S1, or something like that and tbh the crew/cast seemed so enthusiastic to make this project that is homage for 80's but now it's like everyone lost passion/drive.. and you're famous on Twitter because of anon that kept going about Nancy and the kids but I'd like to add that Nancy knows those kids pre-pilot she played d&d with them but stopped playing because she grew up and high school might stressing for some and she wanted to date and stuff and there's nothing wrong with that, and she spent some part of 3 with them but considering people might forget because the show has huge gaps..

And what's your opinion on the Eddie Munson book?

yeah, i think from season 3 it became really obvious that certain plot lines and character arcs were being written to draw a bigger audience in, rather than for the benefit of the story. i don’t know if stranger things will burn down quite as badly as game of thrones, but i do agree that i think people see the duffers as… smarter than they really are? like, i’m not calling the duffers stupid or anything, but people are paying attention to tiny details that i don’t really think matter in the grand scheme of things. and though the duffers can come up with an incredible story and dynamic characters, they do have weak points. so yeah, i don’t know, i guess my attitude towards season 5 is basically just try not to get too excited, and there’s always fanfiction.

honestly, that’s kinda a boring reason. i don’t know, i feel like i’ve said more unpopular opinions before, but that’s what got people riled up? huh. anyway, thanks for telling me lol! and yeah, nancy has known the kids a long time, but it’s clear in s1 she isn’t close to them, and she doesn’t spend time with them. and people seem to think when i point that out i’m dragging nancy, which i’m not! like most of the st crew, they hang out when the world is ending, and clearly care about each other. but they don’t go out of their way to spend time together otherwise.

it’s actually kinda funny though, because steve antis have gone from calling steve pathetic for only have 14 year olds for friends, to desperately trying to prove that they are nancy’s friends. like i thought that was pathetic? pick a lane.

and i did speak about the eddie book when we first heard about it! but basically i don’t care much for it. i think it’s a money grab, and i can’t imagine the story being that entertaining because… it’s about eddie trying to get out of hawkins, and we know he doesn’t. he dies. what a pointless book. (oh and i know a lot of steddie’s are annoyed about him maybe having a female love interest, and i do not care about that at all, lmao. the book’s not even canon! and even if it was, i didn’t care about the duffers canon before, i’m not gonna start now.)

#steve harrington #eddie munson #nancy wheeler #stranger things #asks #anon

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birdkeeperklink · 1 year

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✨2022 Writing Year In Review✨

I was tagged by @lassiesspanishaccent! Thanks, Swattie! 💖

1. Number of stories posted to AO3: 11

2. Word count posted for the year: 76,818

3. Fandoms I wrote for: Psych and Gods of Egypt

4. Pairings: Shawn Spencer/Carlton Lassiter, Horus/Bek

5. Story with the most:

- Kudos: Complementary Souls (382)

- Bookmarks: Complementary Souls (107)

- Comments: DoMaystic Shassie (79)

6. Work I’m most proud of (and why):

“DoMaystic Shassie” because it was the first time I’d ever tackled one of those month-long challenges and actually followed through on it.

7. Work I’m least proud of (and why):

“Never Be the Same.” It just didn’t come out the way I hoped it would.

8. Share or describe a favorite review you received:

Oh, dear, I have so many favorites - so many people say so many lovely things 😭💖 But I guess, for recent ones, I’ll have to go with this one -

“This was super sweet, I loved when the dwarves realized WHY Bilbo complains so much, and their reactions when he started complaining again were adorable. I loved this, loved how they all came together to make sure their Hobbit was all right! Thanks for sharing!”

It was left on a story I’ll always have a soft spot for, and it always makes my day on the occasions when a comment is left on it. It reminds me that people are still reading those older works and enjoying them, which is a reminder I really need quite often.

9. A time when writing was really, really hard:

Mmm, September through December? 😂 This past semester really kicked my ass, mostly because one of my classes wasn’t offered online, so I ended up driving a ton and it sapped my time and energy.

10. A scene or character you wrote that surprised you:

It’s not a scene, but a whole story 😂 “5 Times Shawn Called Carlton ‘Babygirl’ + 1 Time Carlton Didn’t Freak Out About It” surprised me because I don’t usually liked 5+1 stories, with very, very rare exceptions, so I really never expected to have an idea to write one of my own.

11. A favorite excerpt of your writing:

<<The teens bolted, slipping and sliding in the snow. Carlton watched them go with satisfaction, partly just for the joy of it and partly to see that they really did stick to the trail, heading back towards the lodge, and didn’t turn off into the trees.

It was a mistake, though, because he’d forgotten that there were more than just two hooligans out here.

He yelled, flailing, and stamped around, wriggling to try to get the cold out of the back of his shirt! Specifically, his neck, and oh, God, it was going down his back now, and —

Carlton went still, whirling to glare at Spencer, who was laughing. He’d just stuffed snow down the back of Carlton’s shirt and he was laughing.

“Oh, you son of a —”

Ordinarily, he’d try to strangle Spencer, but today, he had a snowball in his hand.>>

From “Coffee on the Snow,” which I suppose was technically 2021, but I’m counting it in 2022 because AO3 does and I’m lazy, lol

12. How did you grow as a writer this year:

I don’t feel like I did, really. Sounds like a bummer downer answer, but what can you do 🤷‍♀️

13. How do you hope to grow next year:

I hope to learn to let go of what other people think and just write what I want. I’ve always known that intellectually, but I have a really hard time taking it to heart, so I’d like that if I could develop that skill more permanently next year, rather than just having waves of not caring followed by long periods of insecurity.

14. Who was your greatest positive influence this year as a writer (could be another writer or beta or cheerleader or muse etc etc):

Oh, without a doubt Swattie and my bestie - those two are beacons of light. I know Swattie is always there for everyone and always has an encouraging word, and it’s amazing. My bestie, of course, is my bff and even has kind words for me when I write about shows or characters she doesn’t like. 💖

15. Anything from your real life show up in your writing this year:

Not that I recall. If it did, it was a tiny throwaway bit, like something I was eating at that moment, lol

16. Any new wisdom you can share with other writers:

You don’t have to take every bit of criticism into consideration. If someone offers you “advice” and you didn’t ask for it, it’s okay to ignore it. If someone offers you advice and you did ask for it, it’s still okay to ignore it. Sometimes it’s personal preferences clashing and sometimes the other person doesn’t understand what you’re trying to do - that’s okay, and you don’t have to pay it any mind if you don’t want to.

17. Any projects you’re looking forward to starting (or finishing) in the new year:

I have a short Elementary fic I’m working on that I’d love to finish very soon, I’m collaborating with my bff on a Bagginshield fic that will remain between the two of us and I’m excited for that, and I went back to a really old Buffy fic that I’m really excited to rework into a second draft, even though absolutely no one else will ever want to read it but me. Other than that, who knows? I’m giving myself a break from deadlines and expectations this year, since college has plenty of those, and am just writing whatever I feel excited about in the moment, without guilt.

18. Tag some writers whose answers you’d like to read.

Oh, let’s see.... @stevviefox @asublimehimbo @lenievi and...I feel bad, but I can’t remember who’s already been tagged for one of these and who hasn’t among the writers in my mutuals, so...if you haven’t already been tagged and you see this and want to do it, then I’m tagging you. Although no pressure even to the three people I did tag 😅

#tag game #year in review #writing #ao3 #archive of our own

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funkymbtifiction · 2 years

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instinctual stackings and focus add on

I think I'm an so/sp 6 (others have typed me as sp/so, but I lean toward so/sp.)

What you said about "how to respond" interested me, because a majority of the time I WILL respond with similar stuff as an sp/so (what I've been working on lately, whether I'm tired, etc.) When I was a lot younger (like early teens) I responded with relational stuff, like fun conversations I recently had ("well I just talked with a friend about time travel"), or the other person's expectations ("good, but everyone says that") or something a bit 6 pushy ("that's a pretty broad question; is there anything in particular you wanted to know about?") But I noticed that responding with anything too "meta-conversational" tended to put people off, so now I generally respond with sp stuff and it feels "natural" to do so. If I ask how other people are, I tend to gently nudge them toward an emotional/connecting level rather than what projects they've been working on, because that's where I feel their souls reside. ("How have you been lately? How's Molly? What's going on with your love life? I have so much I want to ask you about!") Anyone can be working out or writing stories or working on their thesis (I've done all those things); where are you in the realm of People?

Self-care being a play zone is something I also relate to. People sometimes ask me what I've been doing for self-care and I'm like "...? is that something you need to try at in particular? I guess I had an unusually nice shower the other day. Self-care is just getting everything done on time, which I've been doing like always." Or if I haven't been doing it lately I'm like "well there's too much to do, but I'll get it done eventually" (or outsource some of it to a friend if I'm really overwhelmed.)

Sounds about right for so/sp -- using sp in the service of social, as a method to better connect to others / open a door into the conversations you really want to be having. Coming from the other direction (sp/so) ... "anyone" can be writing a story, but not my story. My stories are my soul. Back when I had close friends to e-mail, I filled those e-mails more with stories and thoughts and questions about the meaning of life than about relationships or feelings. Some of my best and most interesting conversations are with other sp writers -- about what our characters are up to, struggles we are having with our plots, and how much progress we are making. We can talk about that all afternoon and feel 'satisfied' because that is social engagement for us -- our social play zone can mean "talking about characters/fiction/this show we watched."

I want to hear about what's going on in my friends' lives, but -- I REALLY want their thoughts. About things, about life, about fiction, about deep or spiritual or meaningful things. I will also adjust to whom I am talking to -- using social. I'll throw something intellectual at someone and see if they respond; a lot of people don't, and so if their method of sharing is to tell me what they've been doing, I'll do the same, but it's not satisfying for me not to have some sort of abstract conversation-hook and/or dig deeper in a N way. Sp stuff "bores me," but it's also what I think about first. (Like right now, as an sp-dom, I've noticed price hikes everywhere, and that I'm paying twice as much for groceries as I did before, and so that's a constant source of annoyance for me -- but I'd really rather be talking about something else, like what archetypes my friends are, or what they are learning, or what the deeper meaning behind something is, or about the brotherhood dynamics in Supernatural. Anything other than me spending $$$ at the grocery store this week.)

#question #stacking #enneagram #subtypes

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mareenavee · 11 months

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Talk to me about plot bunnies! Since I know you're largely a planner/outliner, I have a question about what you do with the sorts of lightning bolt, "I wasn't planning on this" story ideas we all I think have to contend with at one point or another. How do you discipline plot bunnies in your writing - do you let them hop around, do you shuffle them into side projects, do they multiply unnoticed? What is the strangest/weirdest plot bunny you've hatched since you started The World on Our Shoulders that you've decided to not pursue after all? Alternatively, was there a plot idea that wasn't planned, but that since then happily made it in and hopped across the page? Bonus: with your editorial hat on, what advice would you give writers who suffer from plot bunny population booms?

HIII So sorry it's taken me a mortal age to get to this one LOL you know perhaps better than most that my writing has had me in a hyper focus for a WHILE. But I'm glad for it. This is fun because in the time since you asked this ONE plot bunny was allowed to escape LOL. I'll get to him in a second. You know the one.

But first, I do generally stick to the plan to get from point A to point B but I allow some creative freedom with the prose. Sometimes cool scenes crop up -- usually character building things. I have to keep an eye on my plot threads but there's still wiggle room. I like to cause problems on purpose. And sometimes if I write a scene and it doesn't quite fit, I move it into a fragment file and return to it later. And if I'm really feeling like the scene might fit sooner rather than later or be more fun to work with, I absolutely will shift cards around so to speak. A whole mini arc got added into the Raven Rock arc (second arc of the fic) because I was just feeling like shaking the jar of beans. Rude of me, I realize. I also dragged part of that encounter down to arc 1 to begin with, toward the end when I decided I was going to make trouble. This usually all stems from my practice of just writing ideas down when they come to me, after having a really long stretch of time where I wasn't really feeling very creative as the world was...well...you know. A few spinoff fics have been created from this. One is my Ondolemar project I'd hinted at here. Well... you did actually LOL. It had previously been unannounced. And I have another one where I'll redo the college of Winterhold later. I'm also really loving some of the prompts we've been coming up with here and there, especially the cursed kiss prompts (Ya'll can thank @thana-topsy's reply to this post for a few of ours at this point.) So at least one of those has become sort of more than expected; a plausible if not tragic end to my fic series.

Considering I'm not really opposed to the challenge of weird, as we've seen lately lol I've definitely decided that if an idea fits, there's a way to make it work within the fic universe or an alternate universe, really. But there was a point where I was deciding who would be a POV character and who wouldn't for World and, before Athis was a POV character (and he was very, very needed for the story) someone else had been. I have a fragment from something very early here in another ask. He'll be returning for the sideways sequel, so it's not that I just decided it was too weird, per se, more that the voice was better for a different idea.

Now on to my favorite plot bunny! VARLAIS. My new OC. My idiot (endearing.) He just...exists now. He was not in draft one. He was not in the first published version of World. But he just happened to be perfect for what I needed when I was, as mentioned, causing problems on purpose for the mini arc I'm currently working on in the WIP. And now everyone is in love with the boy, even though he'd probably break his leg trying to tie his shoes. (You can meet him in this post. ) He is a Thalmor, technically, and a spy. A double agent if you will. But we're not really sure if he's a good one? Somehow he's been surviving. He is being shuffled into the Ondolemar fic I've mentioned above, but for now he's finishing up the Raven Rock arc of the fic with Nyenna and Teldryn. Does his surname sound familiar? It's Ayleidoon for "Stars." It does mean something. Para, I know you've seen this. But, for those of you new to the chaos of a new OC just kind of willing themselves into existence, here's a snippet of the very first instance of Teldryn encountering the boy. This, by the way, was a very stupid mistake on both their parts. (:

From Chapter 25:

He didn’t get far. As he was adjusting the sail and knocking off as much ice as he could from the canvas, he heard the crunch of snow and wood from the abandoned, half-collapsed shack, which he’d completely forgotten to check. He’d barely spotted the Thalmor archer perched on the avalanche before the arrow caught him in the elbow. Pain exploded from the wound as he let out a strangled cry of surprise. His Candlelight spell ended abruptly. Something was wrong. The agony wasn’t isolated to the injury — it was radiating everywhere. The attacker ran to the shore in seconds and tossed a ball of Magelight in Teldryn’s direction. He made a show of jumping into the boat with unnatural grace. The Thalmor threw back his hood, scarred, gilded face grinning maliciously. Pin-straight, straw-colored hair fell forward, left half missing or trimmed away, revealing more angry scars on his skull and a network of burns on his neck that disappeared into his collar. “Goodnight,” he said. That was all. He waited. Bold of him, really. The two of them stared at each other for a moment — the Thalmor smug, Teldryn perplexed. He looked like the kind of person who would deserve to be stabbed in the neck with the same arrow he’d just shot someone in the elbow with. If only Teldryn could reach the damned thing. This was normally not a difficult or slow process. What the hell? Teldryn’s fingers were numb to the bone, more than they should’ve been in his gauntlets. He didn’t feel cold. In fact, all he felt was pain. He found no matter how hard he willed it, he couldn’t get his other arm to reach the arrow protruding out of the joint. The muscles were locking up. It struck him then exactly what this was. Fucking Paralysis poison. He tried to shout, to curse, to cast a spell — anything. But it was too late. He felt himself collapsing woodenly into the hull of the boat. His head struck one of the benches on the way down and his vision swam. He could not yell. Could not struggle. Could not even blink. The Thalmor archer walked toward the back of the boat around his limbs and kicked him out of the way with a derisive snort. His eyes, blue and full of hate in the Magelight, were the last things Teldryn saw before darkness closed around him.

#AskMareena #MareenaWrites #The World on Our Shoulders #Varlais #Linare Varlais #Teldryn Sero #Skyrim #tes #tesblr #skyrim fic #fanficblr #writblr #writeblr

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ninja-knox-ur-sox-off · 3 years

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How are you able to write several thousand word chapters? Please, tell me your secrets. I require the power for my writing /genuine

ASLKDMFAOWE Buckle up everyone, it's time for never before seen back-stage content looking into the writing habits of KNOX *cracks knuckles*

1. Read a lot of books

Seriously, you'd be surprised at just how much reading alone can help you with writing. For me, it's like I inhale words, my brain absorbs them, and then I can type out a remix of those words to create something of my own. Any time I'd lose steam when writing I'll just pause to go read a specific writers work (inhaling the words) and then go right back to writing. It's kinda like a recharge for me. When I run out of words, I just gotta read to pick up new ones

2. Avoid interruptions

Getting interrupted is a huge problem when writing. With the specific fic you're probably thinking of, I had a lot of free time that week, which I spent most of writing that. I went outside, sat on the driveway and just... wrote (and read) for hours, uninterrupted because I removed myself from where people could interrupt me

Interruptions also include notifications from phone, (turn those off,) people coming up and talking to you, and bright colourful shiny things on the ground

3. Make sure you got food and water

Have a water bottle near you, eat something before you start. If you feel yourself slowing down or your brain getting fuzzy at all, or the words won't come up right, go eat something, a real meal, pause, inhale an apple. Get your brain off of survival mode so it can create better

4. TAKE BREAKS

Every hour or so just get up and move locations if you can. Or pause to just run from one area of the house and back. Movement makes your body have energy. Make sure you can breathe so your brain gets oxygen. Do a little dance wiggle, wave your hands, spin around, very calmly walk from room to room backwards if you feel like it, (watch out for tripping hazards,) just get moving for a bit

5. Start with a success

Do a little something, a project, make your bed, wash some dishes, do something that is a small success before writing so it gets your brain in a good mood, and makes you feel like you can accomplish things. Seriously, this helps HUGE

6. Write about something you like

Writing about an idea or character that fascinates your, or gets your brain working is a great way to get the words flowing honestly. That ones pretty obvious

7. Let the words Mcfreaking FLOW

Got a scene that's coming out as a jumble of nonsense? That's cool, just keep going. Got a part that doesn't make any sense? Whatever, keep moving. Keep that momentum, don't stop. FEEL FREE TO DART AROUND. Have an idea for the next scene suddenly? Make a couple paragraph breaks so you have some space between it and the current scene, viciously type that scene down

I can't tell you how many times I'll dart forward, then immmedeatly go back to the previous scene and keep writing like I'd never stopped. It's keeps the creative flow going and allows your brain to make connections and continue in success. Best way to tie scenes together when you're stuck is to just move onto the next one

8. Let your brain do what it wants

90% of what I write I basically just come up with on the fly. I have a general idea of what I want, and then I just start writing. Sometimes I'll outline, sometimes I don't, sometimes I just have a note that says "This person gets hugs" and all the between stuff just happens

Watch what your brain creates and write it down. I'm essentially a scribe for the scenes I watch take place in my head at this point honestly. I don't really ask myself "what would happen next" usually cause I'm just watching it happen rather than coming up with the stuff

Just write the dumbest craziest stuff. Get wild, get whacky, don't be afraid to

9. Give that sweet sweet inner monologue

If you want your stuff to be more wordy/have a higher word count, don't be afraid to show what the character is thinking! Have their thoughts racing, have them seeing a small candy wrapper on the ground, and being distracted by it for a moment as they think about the last couple of minutes or a conversation they had. Describe their thoughts and their expressions to get a feel for what they're feeling, give them things to interact with outside their own thoughts, describe the area around them as they notice it, change the weather so you have more things to describe

You could say

They were excited to go outside.

or you could say

A day outside! Finally! After two weeks indoors confined to bed, the cast was finally off and they couldn't wait to get back to climbing trees and racing through the forest and splashing through the river. They missed the cool water and the sunshine.

Being indoors wasn't all that bad, it hadn't been too incredibly dull with their friends there to help them, but nothing could really compare to the breeze on their skin and the grass on their feet.

They could barely stand still, practically dancing in place, hopping from one newly healed foot to the other, hands flapping and a smile on their face that they didn't even bother biting back, even as it stretched wider and wider into a grin.

The little bubble of excitement built in their chest until their heart was racing and they just wanted to jump up and down and take off outside--

And suddenly bOOM. TONS MORE WORDS!

10. Switch up locations

Your brain likes new things! Find a spot that is new, change things up a bit. Go outside and write, sit on the couch sideways, sit on the floor, write standing up, sit in a tree, lay down on the concrete driveway, (out of the way of cars,) sit on the stairs! Sometimes a change in scenery is all you need to get your brain working

I'll sometimes go through several locations per paragraph every time my brain stalls I'll move positions and then suddenly I can write again. Sometimes your body and brain just get restless! Especially if it's used to darting between writing, social media, texts, and back again

Sometimes it's also good to have a designated spot to do writing however, but if you have one of those, make sure when you're in that location all you do is write. That way, whenever you sit back down there, your brain will be hardwired and ready to write instantly. That only works if writing is the only thing you do while sitting there usually lol

11. Music/no music

Sometimes music is great, sometimes it's not. Don't be afraid to turn off your music to let your brain go, or turn on some hype music to get you excited. Sometimes I'll do study music, or I'll pull up a dubstep workout mix, and sometimes it'll be silence. Don't be afraid to mix it up, what works for you one day might not work another and that's okay!

AND THAT, MY FRIEND, IS WRITING WITH KNOX, THANKS FOR VIBIN WITH ME

Just take care of yourself! Remember to refuel both mentally and physically, take breaks and give yourself little rewards. Roll up them sleeves, find a place, get some snacks or candy to munch on to help you focus, and tappity type away, my dude!

#Writing tips #Writing advice #Knox rambles #asks #anon #long post #THIS WAS SUPER FUN TO WRITE ACTUALLY AKSDMFOWE #GOOD VIBES #HOPE THIS HELPS A LI'LL!! <333 #This reminds me of why I love writing so much honestly #SMDKFOAGHO;W WOOOOOOOO

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thebibliosphere · 3 years

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So I'm currently unemployed because I got fired for taking too much sick leave (it was legally sketchy blah blah blah but in the end I just can't work and take care of myself and investigate my mystery health problems at the same time). So I've been spending more time writing!

I really admire your writing and loved Hunger Pangs. I'm looking forward to the poly elements developing and I'm wondering if you have any advice for writing about poly. I've made one of my projects a snarky take on "write what you know" ... Apparently what I know is southern gothic meets Pacific northwest gothic, chronic illness pandemic surrealism, and falling back-asswards into threesomes.

I know this is a very open-ended question and I don't expect an answer, I'm just curious about it if you have the energy. As a writer, trying to write honestly / realistically about polyamory/enm, I'm curious if you have any thoughts on what's different about portraying monogamy or nonmonogamy in books, romance or erotica or otherwise.

I'm trying to read examples but it's hard to find examples that fit the niche I'm looking at. Excuse me if this question is nonsense, it's the cluster headaches.

I'm sorry to hear you've been dealing with all that and solidarity on the cluster headaches. But I'm glad you're finding an outlet through writing! And I hope you're happy with an open-ended ramble in response because oh boy, there's a lot I could talk about and I could probably do a better job of answering this sort of thing with more specific questions, but let's see where we end up.

There's definitely a big difference between writing polyamory/ENM (ethical non-monogamy) and what people often expect from monogamous love stories.

Just even from a purely sales and marketing standpoint, the moment you write anything polyamorous (or even just straight up LGBTQIA+ without the ENM) you're going to get considered closer to being erotica/obscene than hetero romances. It's an unfair bias, but it's one that exists in our society. But also the Amazon algorithm and their shitty, shitty human censors. Especially the ones that work the weekends. (Talking to you, Carlos 🖕.)

So not only do you start out hyper-aware that you're writing something that is highly stigmatized or fetishized (at least I'm hyper-aware) but that you are also writing for a niche market that is starving for positive content because the content that exists is either limited, not what they want, or is problematic in some fashion i.e. highly stigmatized or fetishy. And even then, the wants, desires, and expectations of the community you're writing for are complex and wildly varied and hard to fit into an easy formula.

When writing monogamous love stories, there is a set expectation that’s really hard to fuck up once you know it. X person meets Y. Attraction happens, followed by some sort of minor conflict/resolution. Other plot may happen. A greater catalyst involving personal growth for both parties (hopefully) happens. Follow the equation to its ultimate resolution and achieve Happily Ever After.

But writing ENM is... a lot more difficult, if only because of the pure scope of possibilities. You could try to follow the same equation and shove three (or more) people into it, but it rarely works well. Usually because if you’re doing it right, you won’t have enough room in a single character arc to allow for enough growth, and if ENM requires anything in abundance, it’s room to grow.

And this post is huge so I’m going to put the rest under a cut :)

There's also a common refrain in certain online polyam/ENM circles that triads and throuples are overrepresented in media and they may be right to some extent. Personally, I believe the issue isn't that triads and throuples are overrepresented, but that there is such minuscule positive rep of ethical non-monogamy in general, that the few tiny instances we have of triads in media make it seem like it's "everywhere" when in actuality, it's still quite rare and the media we do have often veers into Unicorn Hunter fetish porn. Which is its own problematic thing. And just to be clear, I’m not including this part to dissuade you from writing "falling back-asswards into threesomes." If anything, I need more of it and would hook it directly into my brain if I could. I'm just throwing it out there into the void in the hope that someone will take the thought and run with it, lol.

I’d love to see more polyfidelitous rep in fiction, just as much as I’d like to see more relationship anarchy too. More diversity in fiction is always good.

Another thing that differs in writing ENM romance vs conventional monogamy is the feeling like you need to justify yourself. There's a lot of pressure to be as healthy and non-problematic as possible because you are being held to a higher standard of criticism. Both from people from without the ENM communities, and from the people within. Granted, some people don't give a shit and just want to read some fantastic porn (valid) but there are those who will cheerfully read Fifty Shades of Bullshit and call it "spicy" and "romantic," then turn around and call the most tooth-rottingly-sweet-fluff about a queer platonic polycule heresy. That's just the way the world works.

(Pro-tip for author life in general: never read your own reviews; that way madness lies. I glimpsed one the other day that tagged Hunger Pangs as “ethical cheating” and just about had an aneurism.)

And while that feeling of needing to justify yourself comes from a valid place of being excluded from the table of socially accepted norms, it can also be to the detriment of both the story and the subject matter at hand. I've seen some authors bend so far over backward to avoid being problematic in their portrayal of ENM, they end up being problematic for entirely different reasons. Usually because they give such a skewed, rose-tinted perspective of how things work, it ends up coming off as well... a bit culty and obnoxious tbh.

“Look how enlightened we are, freed from the trappings of monogamy and jealousy! We’re all so honest and perfect and happy!”

Yeah, uhu, sure Jan. Except here’s the thing, not all jealousy is bad. How you act on it can be, but jealousy itself is an important tool in the junk drawer that is the range of human emotion. It can clue us in to when we’re feeling sad or neglected, which in turn means we should figure out why we’re feeling those things. Sometimes it’s because brains are just like that and anxiety is a thing. Other times it’s because our needs are actually being neglected and we are in an unhealthy situation we need to remedy. You gotta put the work in to figure it out. Which is the same as any style of relationship, whether it’s mono, polyam or whatever flavor of ENM you subscribe to* And sometimes you just gotta be messy, because that’s how humans are. Being afraid to show that mess makes it a dishonest portrayal, and it also robs you of some great cannon fodder for character development.

Which brings me in a roundabout way to my current pet peeve in how certain writers take monogamous ideals and apply them to ENM, sometimes without even realizing it. The “Find the Right Person and Settle Down” trope.

Often, in this case, ENM or polyamory is treated as a phase. Something you mature out of with age or until you meet “The One(tm).” This is, of course, an attempt to follow the mono style formula expected in most romances. And while it might appeal to many readers, it’s uh, actually quite insulting.

To give an example, I am currently seeing this a lot in the Witcher fandom.

Fanon Netflix!Jaskier is everyone's favorite ethical slut until he meets Geralt then woops, wouldn’t you know, he just needed to find The One(tm). Suddenly, all his other sexual and romantic exploits or attractions mean nothing to him. Let's watch as he throws away a core aspect of his personality in favor of a man.

Yeah... that sure showed those societal norms...

If I were being generous, I’d say it’s a poor attempt at showing New Relationship Euphoria and how wrapped up people can become in new relationships. But honestly, it’s monogamous bias eking its way in to validate how special and unique the relationship is. Because sometimes people really can’t think of any other way to show how important and valid a relationship is without defining it in terms of exclusivity. Which is a fundamental misunderstanding of how ENM works for a lot of people and invalidates a lot of loving, serious and long-term relationships.

This is not to say that some polyam/poly-leaning people can't be happy in monogamous relationships! I am! (I consider myself ambiamorous. I'm happy with either monogamy or polyamory, it really just depends on the relationship(s) I’m in.) But I also don't regard my relationship with a mono partner as "settling down" or "growing up." It's just a choice I made to be with a person I love, and it's a valid one. Just like choosing to never close yourself off to multiple relationships is valid. And I wish more people realized that, or rather, I wish the people writing these things knew that :P

Anyway, I think I’ve rambled enough. I hope this collection of incoherent thoughts actually makes some sense and might be useful.

----

*A good resource book that doesn't pull any punches in this regard is Polysecure by Jessica Fern. It's a wonderfully insightful read that explores the messier side of consensual non-monogamy, especially with how it can be affected by trauma or inter-relationship conflicts. But it also shows how to take better steps toward healthy, ethical non-monogamy (a far better job than More Than Two**) and conflict resolution, making it a valuable resource both for someone who is a part of this relationship style***, but also for writers on the outside looking in who might have a very simple or misguided idea of what conflict within polyam/ENM relationships might look like, vs traditional monogamous ones.

** The author of More Than Two has been accused of multiple accounts of abuse within the polyamorous community, with many of his coauthors having spoken out about the gaslighting and emotional and psychological damage they experienced while in a relationship with him. A lot of their stories are documented here: https://www.itrippedonthepolystair.com/ (warning: it is not light material and deals with issues of abuse, gaslighting, and a whole other plethora of Yikes.) While some people still find More Than Two helpful reading, there are now, thankfully, much, much better resources out there.

*** Some people consider polyam/ENM to be part of their identity or orientation, while others view it as a relationship style.It largely depends on the individual.

#long post #writing #ethical non-monogamy #relationship styles #relationship models in fiction #also that kindle link is an affiliate link #because fuck giving amazon free recs

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pens-swords-stuff · 3 years

Text

ABOUT ME

➸ Name // Undine ➸ Age // 25 ➸ Pronouns // She/her (They/them is also acceptable!) ➸ Writeblr // @pens-swords-stuff ➸ Background // Japanese-American, queer, hobby writer ➸ Enjoys // Video games, playing music, binging anime and TV shows, compiling data for fanfiction/WIPs, bullet journaling, spending too much time on Tumblr Hey everyone! I'm not a new writeblr; I've been around for nearly 3 years now. I haven't been very active in the past year, so I'm reintroducing myself to the community as I dip my toes back in the water! I'm looking for new writeblrs to follow, so please reblog and I'll come check you out. I'd love it if you could introduce yourself to me in the reblogs because I'm always looking for new friends/mutuals to support. Friends and mutuals, I would love and appreciate a boost, as well as an update on how you're doing! I follow from my main blog @undinology. Contact me through my writeblr @pens-swords-stuff and not my main blog, please and thank you!

MY BLOG

I'm primarily known for my writeblr advice. I write guides designed to help people navigate the community as well as tips and tricks for those who want some extra guidance. Sometimes I post writeblr opinion pieces about current events/trends sometimes if I have something to say. If you've been around, chances are you've seen some of them floating around! I also give standard writing advice on occasion as well. Feel free to ask me anything, just check out my ask guidelines first! ➸ My advice masterlist ➸ Ask guidelines I also run a lot of community events! Keep your eyes peeled for any future events; I run them all on this blog! Here are the events that I've created/hosted so far: ➸ Writeblr Secret Admirer (Annual) ➸ Writeblr Positivity Week (Annual) ➸ WIP Blind Date (Intermittent) Besides all of that, I create writing memes, do a lot of writing positivity posts, and occasionally post my own writing! Supporting other writers is incredibly important to me, so I do my best to leave comments and reblogs as much as I can. I love talking with and supporting people, so please feel free to reach out!

Writing info and WIPs under the cut!

MY WRITING

➸ Writing masterlist* ➸ Primary genres // Romance, period, urban fantasy, mysteries, fanfiction *There are several WIPs on my writing masterlist that are on hiatus, and will likely not be discussed on my blog anymore! 98% of my writing is co-written with my best friend and writing partner @decantae. We've been writing together for nearly 6 years, and we primarily focus on writing bisexual romances in a variety of genres that spiral into massive plots. Our most recent focus has been writing period romances. Our current passion project and the WIP that I write for the most is a fanfiction period romance that features a huge polyamorous relationship, and it's nearly at 600k words written over a year and a half thus far. (No, it's not a novel, and it's written just for our own enjoyment, not necessarily meant to be read by others, so that massive word count is okay!) The other 2% of my writing are my solo projects. I'm a much better co-writer than I am a solo writer, and they are worked on much more sporadically, but I love them all the same. I have many ideas and I've dropped them just as quickly as I've discussed them! I'm a rather flighty solo-writer who is constantly juggling several ideas both novels and fanfictions. There are two WIPs in particular that have stuck around however, and that I talk about the most on my blog.

ALWAYS THE BRIDESMAID

➸ Genre // Murder mystery, romance ➸ Tropes // Fake relationship/wedding/marriage, bisexual rivalmance/minor enemies-to-lovers, detectives ➸ WIP Introduction ➸ Character Introductions ➸ WIP Tag // #atb ↳ All posts about ATB, including musings, memes, jokes ➸ WIP Tag // #always the bridesmaid ↳ Only official posts such as snippets, intros, lore, etc. ➸ Synopsis There’s been a string of murders. While tragic, murders are commonplace enough in [Fictional City] that no one blinks an eye when they are reported on the six o’clock news. The victims had nothing in common, so it was largely believed to be the work of separate killers, unrelated and commonplace. Except for one tiny detail: Every single victim had been a part of a wedding party the month prior to their death. Two private detectives were hired to investigate separate incidents, two different murders. When it becomes apparent that this trail of wedding murders has one culprit, it was only natural for them to team up and work together, because two heads are better than one. The only problem: They are rival detectives with differing styles that clash and find each other insufferable. When clue after clue lead them to dead-ends and false information, they are forced to confront the reality that they need to do something drastic to pin down the culprit. Pretending to be engaged and planning a fake wedding to lure out the killer seems extremely out there, but if they can survive a fake relationship, perhaps they can bring down the killer once and for all. It’s a crazy plan, but it just might work. Because if there is one thing for certain… The victim is always the bridesmaid, and never the bride.

PROJECT VESTIGE

➸ Genre // Coming-of-age, magical realism, mystery ➸ Themes // Connections between the past and the present, nature is alive, nothing is truly gone, remembrance and memory, found family, history repeats itself, it's never too late, magical phenomenon being 'normal' ➸ WIP Introduction ➸ Character Introductions ➸ WIP Tag // #project vestige ➸ Synopsis When Brooke started hearing voices, she thought that she was going insane. There was laughter when she was all alone, she overheard arguments in empty spaces… She’s not losing her grip on reality however. The earth remembers. It remembers the conversations, the laughter, sobs, and the shouts. It’s called place memory, and the places whisper and repeat them out loud so that nothing is ever truly forgotten. Anyone can hear it — all you have to do is listen and pay attention. Most people can’t hear place memory or ignore it because they’re too distracted with their own lives, but Brooke is listening now, and she’s paying attention to every murmur. People are disappearing in Antium. At first it seems like no big deal — just a college student skipping town — but one by one, more people go missing. It’s the Bay Witch, the locals say, the Bay Witch is snatching people away just like she did in the past; it’s happened before. Could it really be a local legend that’s responsible for these disappearances, or is there something far more sinister happening in Antium? Using her newfound discovery of place memory, Brooke and her friends start unraveling the truth behind the Bay Witch and missing people from over a hundred years ago. Little do they know, learning what truly happened back then may pave the way to them finding the missing people in the present.

If you made it to the very end of this long intro, thank you so much! Please feel free to ask about my WIPs or come hang out with me in my asks. I'm really looking forward to reconnecting with old friends, finding new writers to follow, and re-immersing myself into this lovely community!

#writing #writeblr #writeblr introduction #new writeblr #writeblr intro #undine speaks #undine intro #y'all can you believe #i've never actually made an intro post #when i first started writeblr #it wasn't really a thing??#or at least #a thing that i was aware about #i'm finally doing it #i'm finally catching up #i'm finally a real writeblr #im so excited

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thefanficmonster · 4 years

Text

Corpse’s Girl

Corpse Husband x Reader (Female)

Warnings: Bullying, Swearing, Derogatory Terms

Genre: Angst, Fluff

Summary: Y/N’s life as a regular college student is forever stripped away from her when her relationship with the famous YouTuber Corpse Husband is accidentally revealed during an online class of hers. How will she cope with the sudden spotlight and the unwanted attention, some of which crosses into bullying?

Requested by my amazing Tumblr friend @itsminniekat 🥰 She’s been reading and liking my works since day one and I honestly couldn’t be more grateful. If you’re reading this, all I can say is thank you, darling. Thank you so much for sticking by my blog even when I posted some crappy fics. I’ll make sure this ain’t one of them. Love you with all my heart. ❤❤❤

P.S. - I named the mean character with my name so I hope no one who reads this has the same name. Wouldn’t want any of you feeling like the villain 😘

Who knew online class would be even more boring than being physically present for a lecture? Seriously, I find myself doing the weirdest of crap to entertain myself - like trying to balance a pen on the tip of my nose for example. I jot down some notes every now and then but that’s basically it. My mind can not fathom the concept on concentrating on whatever my professors are going on and on about. Well, full disclosure, I couldn’t concentrate even if I wanted to, especially with my boyfriend streaming in the other room.

He’s currently playing Among Us with his usual gaming squad. Listening to his input during the discussions, I can always tell when he’s lying. I honestly find it hilarious that his friends can’t pick up when he’s bullshitting them. I sometimes wonder if he has brainwashed them. And that’s one of the main reasons we don’t play Among Us together - he can’t lie to me. Not only do I pick up on his con with ease, but he always says he feels bad when he lies to me which is just the sweetest thing. Also, I refuse to play cause I’m shy. His friends are all well-known content creators and I’m a literal nobody. Every now and then I find myself wondering why Corpse is even with me. He’s always quick to push those thoughts out of my head and make sure they don’t return on a long notice, but they do interrupt my peace from time to time.

“Y/N, do you know?“ The sound of my professor saying my name takes me out of my eavesdropping of Corpse’s stream.

I panic, but quickly improvise, “Sorry, my internet is slow, you cut out for a second. What was the question?” I feel my face heating up, making me glad we are allowed to keep our cameras off.

“Question number 15 on page 82 in your textbook. Do you know the answer to it?“ My professor repeats himself, his tone annoyed.

I look down at the page that’s already opened in front of me. I let out a sigh of relief, seeing that the question is rather easy.

“Yeah, um, it’s...“ Suddenly, Corpse’s laugh reaches my room loud and clear. There’s no doubt my mic picked up the noise, especially since the door to my room is open.

The color drains from my face as I hurry to say the answer and remute myself. My eyes are wide as I stare at my screen, hoping no one will acknowledge that very recognizable laugh.

“OMG Y/N, are you watching a Corpse Husband stream in class?” One of the bitches in my class, Vy, speaks up, “Not a very goody-two-shoe move on your part, dear.”

I purposely unmute my mic to mumble a quick ‘Shut up, bitch’ that somehow manages to fly under my professor’s radar and the class continues. It’s the first time something like this has happened and I’m not sure if I handled it properly or not.

The class ends shortly after, allowing me a sigh of relief as I disconnect from the meeting.

“Fucking finally.“ I mumble to myself, leaning back in my desk chair. Tilting my head backwards, I see Corpse standing in the doorframe. I grin, not only because his presence itself makes me ten times happier, but also because he’s upside down from my viewpoint. “Well, hello there! How long have you been spying on me?“

He struts over to me, leaning his face over mine, “Long enough.” His lips linger above mine without any actual contact before he pulls away, allowing me to sit up straight and proper in the chair. “You still have classes?”

I nod my head while disappointedly rolling my eyes, “Yeah. One more. Shouldn’t be too bad since it’s English Lit. You’re done streaming?”

“Yeah, I just have some other things to do. I haven’t done a narration video in a while, I miss making that type of content.“ He plops down on my bed, running a hand through his messy black curls.

“Weren’t you recording some lines a few days ago?“ I frown as I try to recall if what I’m referring to actually happened or my brain is too fried to decipher reality from my bootleg perception of it. Online class, man - messes with your head like sleeping pills - makes you disoriented and exhausted with barely doing anything other than trying to wrap your brain around a lecture or two.

He hums affirmatively, “It’s not a finished project and I don’t even know if I’ll use those or rerecord them. I’ll have to listen to them again before I make a final decision.“

I tilt his chin upwards with my pointer finger, a gesture he has told me he finds very endearing, “I’m sure they’re great and you just refuse to be satisfied. Everything you do is great.“

He smiles a small, shy smile, his fingers gently wrapping around my wrist, holding my hand in place, “You’re biased. You like me too much to tell me when I do some bullshit.”

I scoff, “You know that isn’t true. If someone’s gonna kick your butt in formation, it’s gonna be me.“ I give him a quick kiss on the forehead before pulling away from him, “Go on, now. I have a class to attend. You distract me enough while you’re in the other room, I can only imagine how hard it’d be for me to focus if you were right by my side.“

He smirks, bowing a little as he makes his way out of the room, “You flatter me.”

I playfully roll my eyes, getting my headset back on as I tap the last class for the day. We have an assignment due to the start of the class which we’ll have to present if the professor approved of it. We basically had to write a psychoanalysis of a character from any book of our choice. I chose Heathcliff from ‘Wuthering Heights’ which is one of my favorite books of all time. I’m proud of what I wrote and the way I wrote it, but I’ve always barely scraped by with a B in this class, a B+ if I’m lucky, so I’ve never gotten any major credit, even when I put my 110% in the assignments and projects.

Well, color me surprised when the professor calls on me first to read my work, complimenting it on its detailed and specific nature. I get my printed assignment out in front of me and unmute myself.

“I wrote a psychoanalysis on for Heathcliff, a character from Emily Bronte’s novel ‘Wuthering Heights’.“ Just after I say this line, Corpse’s voice booms throughout the whole apartment, no doubt being picked up by my mic. It doesn’t sound like he’s actually talking, he can’t be that loud. I put two and two together when I recognize the lines he’s saying - the ones he recorded a few days ago. They’re coming from his computer speakers. He probably didn’t check the volume before playing back the recording.

I mute myself as quickly as possible, but it’s too late. The voice dies down as Corpse probably turned down the speakers.

My professor, who is already done with this lecture, just annoyedly remarks, her words overdosed with sarcasm: “Read your assignment and you can go back to whatever it is you are watching.”

“Wow, Y/N! Again?! Are you one of those crazy obsessed fans or something? Is Corpse Husband all you watch?“ This bitch is really poking a stick at me, huh? The only crazy obsessed fan here is her, and my friends but they are allowed. Little do all of them know, I am obsessed but not simply over a YouTuber. I’m obsessed with my boyfriend who just happens to be a YouTuber.

“No commentary, please.“ The professor scolds her, “Go on, Y/N.“

I finish reading without any other disturbances. The professor compliments my essay again when I’m done, the small incident at the beginning forgotten already. Well, not by everyone. One of my friends shot me a quick text to joke about it which only earned an eye roll from me.

My friends don’t know that I’m dating Corpse either. As I said, they are simping HARD over him while I act the most indifferent on the subject. Whenever they ask my opinion on him I either say ‘he’s OK’ or just avoid answering completely. I know saying anything more enthusiastic than that would turn into a snowball rolling down a snowy hill - I’d just keep babbling about how nice, amazing, wonderful and a gift to this world Corpse is, inevitably revealing our relationship in the process.

I’m afraid of revealing my relationship with Corpse in front of these people. They are all run on jealousy and selfishness and I can only imagine how mean they’d be about it. I’m already not too fond of them, it would only be worse if any of my personal life was exposed.

When the class finally ends I remove my headset, putting my forehead down on the desk, barely missing the keyboard. I groan in frustration and anger at myself for not fighting back. I could’ve and should’ve said something - ANYTHING. But what? That’s a question I can’t find the answer to.

“Hey...“ Corpse’s hesitant voice comes from behind me, “You ok?“

I straighten my posture, turning to him with a smile. “Yeah, but these people suck.”

I get up from my chair as he approaches me, basically falling in his arms. The comfort I feel radiating off of him makes me relax, forget the past hour or so. He has always had this effect on me. Like my own personal kryptonite to my anger and anxiety.

“Did I get you in any trouble because of that?“ His voice shows clear concern and guilt.

I wrap my arms around him tighter, burying my head in his chest. “No, don’t worry about it.“

And I really wasn’t in trouble. Not until now that the video is officially posted....

I can call these people dumb all I want but they sure put two and two together awfully fast. They recognized the lines they heard during class as the same ones from his new video that came out almost a week after the incident, aka two days ago. It’s safe to say I haven’t touched my phone or computer since.

“This is all my fault.“

Of all the horrible things I suspected would happen this has to be the worst - Corpse is blaming himself for it. I am prepared to take all the shit these people have to throw at me but seeing Corpse beating himself up over this is killing me. No amount of convincing can change his mind. Nothing I say helps.

“Please, stop doing this to yourself. Non of this is your fault, Corpse.“ I’ve repeated this sentence more than a thousand time these past forty eight hours, each time saying it more and more desperately.

“All of it is my fault, Y/N. I’m so sorry. I hate myself so much.“ Has been his reply single time.

I can’t watch him be so mean to himself. It’s the most conflicting thing when the person you love most is torturing themselves. It’s easy if it’s someone else doing it, you just kick their ass. But what are you supposed to do when the person you want to protect is the same one you need to protect them from.

Corpse has shut himself away in his recording room these past few hours and though he clearly needs to be alone, he still left the door open just a crack cause he knows I’ll be worried sick otherwise.

While I’m alone in the living room, I’ve finally managed to brace myself and build enough courage to power up my laptop. Last time it was on it was going mad with notifications.

“It’s digital. Only digital. It can’t hurt you too badly if it can’t touch you, right?“ I mumble to myself, already frustrated despite not having yet seen all the horrors that await me.

And horrors there were. Everywhere. Twitter. Instagram. Facebook.

My grades. Some pictures of me no one has ever seen. My school files. People from my class tweeting Corpse to ‘expose’ me for the ‘slut’ or ‘bitch’ I really am. Corpse hasn’t touched social media either and I plan on making sure it stays that way. God only knows how much worse he’ll get if he sees these claims.

And then, like a notification sent straight from hell, an email from my professor.

Practical lectures on Friday. Be here at 9 AM. Don’t forget your mask and gloves.

Good thing I opened my laptop when I did. Friday is tomorrow and I need to prepare for this day. Not only do I need to hit the books but I need to toughen up a bit. I can’t go there looking like I feel - like a mess.

Alright, time to put the brave face on. No more wallowing in it, at least not until tomorrow afternoon.

I make a study plan and hop in the shower. I feel the need to apologize to my hair for washing it so roughly, basically yanking at my strands from frustration that has been suppressed for too long.

I get our of the boiling hot shower, red as a lobster, and change into some clean comfortable clothes and put my ass in study mode. I remove all the scary expectations of the morning to come from my mind and let the information the textbooks has to offer seep into my brain.

* * *

I’m about to head out and, despite my put-together composure, I am a wreck inside. I actually put effort into my appearance, I mean - I even styled my hair. A pretty façade to hide a ruin.

I saw my friends’ texts last night, all three of them ending their friendship with me because they felt betrayed. I haven’t yet decided how to feel about that. Doesn’t matter at the moment, there are more important matters at hand, aka surviving the next three hours.

My college is within ten minutes walking distance from our apartment. That ten minute walk has never been so stressful, not even during exam season. The air feels a little harder to breathe, the path a little shorter to walk. And my moment of reckoning a little too close.

I feel eyes on me the second I start walking through the park of our campus. Sure, I could just be paranoid, but the feeling is too real to be just my imagination in overdrive. I’m glad I have my hair down and a mask on so the redness of my cheeks and neck isn’t on display. That’s a sign of weakness right now.

We have two an hour and a half long classes between which we have a snack break that’s half an hour. I usually enjoy that period but I’m dreading it now. These assholes can only be so mean in the presence of a professor, but during lunch break they can increase that tenfold.

“Well if it isn’t Corpse’s girl.“ I hear that a lot. The whispers are not so much whispers as intentionally loud enough for me to hear remarks. I’m not bothered by them, it’s the least they can do. If I let such a simple thing get to me, I’d be crumbling by the end of first period.

I hear some shuffling behind me and out of the corner of my eye I see, yeah you guessed it, THAT bitch. She’s standing as close to me as she can without violating Covid regulations. A mask is covering her face but the menacing look in her eyes tells me all I need to know about the interaction that’s about to go down.

“I’d ask how much he pays you for the hour.....“ her long nails tap the wooden desk, “but that’d be rude. I bet it’s tough being a maid. Do you just clean or are you a multipurpose lap dog? No offense, I’m genuinely curious.“

“Vy, would you be so kind as to give Y/N some room to breathe?“ The professor asks as he nonchalantly walks in.

Vy rolls her eyes, batting her eyelashes at me, “Talk to you later, sweetheart.” With a fake friendly wave she’s out of my hair, at least for now.

Remember what I said about these people not being as dumb as I pegged them to be? Yeah, scratch that. These fuckers actually tried getting away with taking pictures of me with flash in broad daylight. Like, HELLO! I have two functioning eyes and a brain, I’m onto you. Sadly, me having figured out their childish but hurtful methods of humiliating me doesn’t change much. They still posted the pics they took, using the most derogatory terms they could find in the English language, always making sure to tag Corpse and me both.

Needless to say, these were the longest three hours of my life.

* * *

Shutting the door to our apartment behind me causes relief of the highest levels. I feel like I’ve locked out all the bad shit I have had to deal with these past twenty four hours.

I’m tired. I’m fucking exhausted. I feel like a discarded piece of paper.

And it all starts crumbling. A wall is bound to start slowly falling apart after being hit over and over again, each time feeling the blows with a stronger intensity.

I slide down the door sitting down on the floor and slowly taking my shoes off. I put my bag beside me and wrap my arms around my knees, hiding my head in the space between them and my chest.

One tear slides down my cheek.

Another follows.

And another, this time accompanied by a choked sob.

A pair of arms wraps around the ball that my body has been shaped into. One of his hands comes up to stroke my hair gently, feeding me the comfort I have been longing for since I left the apartment this morning.

“I saw it. All of it. All the shit they talk about you. All the names they call you. And I’ve never wanted to beat so many people up simultaneously.“ His words make me raise my head from its low position, giving him a knowing look. “I wish I could. I would, but that would land me in jail. Which doesn’t even sound so bad cause I don’t like going out. Only problem is you wouldn’t be with me. I wouldn’t want you to be there with me, don’t get me wrong, I’d never want you to end up in jail. I-...” I cut him off by pressing my lips to his. A quick kiss that says so much but mainly shows the immeasurable gratitude for his support.

Seeing those awful tweets and comments had the complete opposite effect on him. He no longer blames himself but the people who actually deserve the blame - all those jerks from my college.

I pull away, giving him a small smile. “I would never let you go to jail.”

He smiles back at me, overjoyed that my mood is slowly being lifted, “Come on, I have a nice crowd that would like to meet you.”

I know exactly what he means. Felix, Sean, Rae, Dave, Sykkuno and the rest of his friends. The people I’ve been so shy and afraid to meet since day one. Being shy doesn’t really make sense now, seeing as how they know I exist and that I’m a part of Corpse’s life.

What do I have to lose?

“Guys, this is my girlfriend, Y/N.“ Corpse’s black avatar runs around my cyan one in the Among Us lobby.

I can’t help but giggle when I unmute my mic, “Hi everyone! It’s so nice to finally meet you.“ They each introduce themselves, expressing how happy they are to be meeting me too.

It’s the first time in what feels like a while that I’m truly having fun. These people are wonderful, each so unique and lovely. They never brought up the scandal nor acted as though they knew about it. I know they did and I am beyond grateful that they never mentioned it or treated me any differently because of it. Also, Corpse was streaming the whole time. I had my phone on his stream, my eyes nervously scanning the chat every now and then. I couldn’t believe it. Corpse’s real fans were just as wonderful as his friends - they were nothing but supportive and happy to have met me.

Now, I can either choose to believe these people were being so nice to me out of sympathy or I can believe they really like me and appreciate me for who I am and not for what happened to me.

I choose to believe the latter.

And while I’m still getting accustomed to this whole new spotlight, I know I’ll be able to handle it as long as I’m holding Corpse’s hand in the process. All I need is to have him beside me and I’m prepared to tackle anything.

“They love you.“ Corpse tells me once the stream is done and we’ve hopped out of the Discord call, “But I love you more.“

His arms wrap around my waist while mine instinctively find their way around his neck, “I love them, too. But they’re at the number 2 spot.”

He smirks at me, “I wonder who’s at number 1.”

I push up on my toes, putting my lips an inch away from his, “Hmm, I wonder...”

He doesn’t let me finish, silencing my teasing with a sweet, loving kiss.

@susceptible-but-siriusexual @simonsbluee @save-the-sky @hacker-ghost @bi-andready-tocry @imtiredaffff @jazzkaurtheglorious @hereforbeebo @fandomgirl17 @chrysanthykios @maehemscorpyus @loraleiix @letsloveimagines @annshit @i-cant-choose-a-username-help @enigmaticmaze @divine-artemis @waterlilypat

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littlemisslipbalm · 3 years

Text

“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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