#two versions bc i like the one without shading too
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DIRK: I am Brain Ghost Dirk.
DIRK: You kissed my boyfriend.
DIRK: Prepare to die.
#dirk strider#homestuck#hom3stuck#art#homestuck art#angonidas art#my art#panel redraw yes#i love this part sm#cryinggggg#two versions bc i like the one without shading too#yes#doobles
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TIME FOR A PROCESS POST let's talk abt getting from this (client sketch - which, btw, i know other artists have talked about this plenty, but i LOOOOOOVE a client sketch as early direction on a commission. LOVE it)
to this!
at first we didn't know if the title was going to go across the desk, or over the central figure (emara's) head against the back wall. so there was a 1st version where we were favoring a higher title, then we started favoring the desk so we scrapped the clutter + centered it more
i used clip studio's 3D models (particularly for the chair, guard, + weapon crates) and perspective rulers to help with laying everything out at this stage, tho i abandoned the 3D pretty early on bc it's a bit too clunky for me. maybe i'll find it quicker to use w more practice!
(the rest under the cut!)
once the basic layout was approved, i threw together a value study to explain how in the final image all the clutter of the bg detail would be unified and pushed back. lately i find myself thinking abt value earlier + earlier in the process; planning ahead saves me a lot of time!
i fiddled with starting to refine things digitally, but then i got A BRAND NEW LIGHTBOX delivered in the mail with perfect timing (lmao) so i just ended up printing off the digital sketch, finalizing in pencil, + scanning back in
then comes five billion different steps of locking in values, again. i did everything greyscale first, but i didn't worry abt getting things super polished at this stage bc i knew color would factor in a lot to later decisions
this is the point at which presenting these wips "step by step" is kind of misleading; i didn't do these stages one at a time, but rather had a BUNCH of different lighting/shading layers that i kept toggling on and off as i worked to make sure everything was coming along well.
(to get some of these caps i actually went into the main file again and turned a bunch of stuff on/off just for the sake of getting specific examples, because actually when i was actively working on it there was rarely a point where i was actually working on something with "all lighting turned off and just the shading on," or anything like that; but i AM interested in showing what effects different lighting/shading changes had on the base colors, even if i wasn't really making these changes in a rigid order.)
i.e., just for the sake of interest, here's how the flat colors look without those adjustments!! but i honestly never looked at it like this on its own for long...i had all the shading/lighting turned off so i could see what i was doing while flatting, but i was constantly checking back and forth.
then tones added on top (which were actually just two copies of the tone folders in the above posts, set to linear burn and overlay) -
which makes it get HORRIFYINGLY dark, but that's when we go in and add a bunch of lighting adjustments.
the most obvious lighting change above is the big burst of hot pink light from the corner, but there was also some masked overlay + burn layers to pop out the guard + emara and make sure they were pulled out from the bg. if this were a standalone illustration, i maybe would have let the bg (and all that painstakingly drawn detail..........) stand out a little more, but a cover functions differently, and i wanted to make sure the eye goes to the title first. that means sacrificing bg detail even if it looks sick lol
then final touches! a lot of my very last touches are things that are close to invisible; gradient maps on very low opacity, noise, a little bit of scribbling on upper layers. the typesetting was all by the client, except for the lettering for "emara king's," which i did myself!
finally, here's a comparison of ⬅where i left off one night close to the deadline thinking "it's probably done, but i'll sleep on it just in case," then all the adjustments i made the next day with fresh eyes.➡ and that's it!!! phew!!! that's how i make a cover!
#my art#process#wip#tutorials#<- not really but. i just figure someone browsing my tutorials tag might be into this#i am so so so so so fucking mad that i didnt think to turn timelapse recording on for this#bc a timelapse wouldve been so fucking sick. but i can at least share this
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Aww yes, it’s a DTIYS
(This is a repost because the tags might be broken and I’m testing whether it was just that post or something)
Yee thanks for 300 followers :]!! I've always had fun doing other people's dtiys, and I wanted to do one of my own!!
(Sorry if the colours are too bright, I'm putting a desaturated edit under the cut as well as a version without the background)
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There will be prizes for 1st, 2nd, and 3rd places (and potentially drawing requests for any runners up!)
1st - fully shaded drawing of an oc or characterof your choice (doesn't have to be Ninjago)
2nd and 3rd (they get same prize bc yeah) colored drawing of an oc or character of choice (doesn't have to be Ninjago)
(Further details will be discussed with winners, warning, I'm not sure how fast l'Il do the rewards so we'll see how it goes )
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Deadline is 26th of October - so two weeks from now!
(Might change depending on what happens lol)
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Tag with #spicyicydtiys300 in submissions and just to be safe @me also. If I don't reblog ur post in 2 days pls msg me!!
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Feel free to be as creative as you like, and have fun!!!
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Explanation on the actual drawing + extra images below cut
Low saturated version and non background versions.
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So the image is from my Ninjago s11 rewrite, and if you're confused by the plant pot then I suggest checking the end of this post (read from corruption). That was totally not a shameless ploy to lure you into my rewrite aha, but I thought the dtiys should be relevant to something on le blog!
I don't think there's an easy way of explaining the plant plot apart from reading the rewrite, but essentially, in the rewrite, Zane is fully conscious when becoming the ice emperor, but after experiencing a lot of emotional turmoil, he resorts to trying to keep him and everyone safe by freezing everyone and have their consciousness roam an empty void in their minds. Zane's innocent feelings are here, whilst the ice emperor acts as a cold exterior shell that hunts for other people in the realm to "protect". The plant pot holds a frosted over sapling for a traveller's tree, which Zane had been tending to inside his mind (and it's like a metaphor for spring or something). Yeah!
#this is a repost#spicyicydtiys300#ohhhhh boy bc tumblr doesn’t allow to select all the text at once on a post I had to screen shot and select from there#and then remove the extra lines#tedious#ninjago#lego ninjago#art#fanart#digital art#dtiys#ninjago dtiys#Ninjago zane#ninjago ice emperor#300 followers#tw: bright colors#tw bright colors
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The first Runner escaped to the stars... or so the Legends say...
Does this look like star wars fanart? no, because it's a fanart to a series of books merely inspired by Star Wars.
I was silently in awe the first time @jackdaw-kraai introduced their Tatooine Slave Culture in their The Guides Verse's "How To Design Your Own Prosthesis And Turn The Project Into A Bonding Experience" which is a third book out of four written out of 25+ planned... yes, yes, this is basically a little advertisement but those stories are totally worth a try
progress shots + alternative version under the cut
alternative without mosaic mask
progress
alternative take I didn't like but decided to save anyway because it still looked pretty well
There are two phases an artist goes through when making art: struggle to start and then struggle to just. stop. adding. stuff. no. wait. stop. that's how flat coloured piece turned into a full-shaded one - I had too much fun with watercolour and charcoal brushes. okay I think I need to stop rambling now
btw this one was a Work-In-Progress for about two months bc I started at the very beginning of summer and it's one of my longer works and... I'm.. so proud of it
Edit: it is cross-posted on Instagram by me and me ONLY (@/margo_prosto_margo), on anyone else's blog is Stolen. adding this just in case, no hard feelings
#art#original art#sorta#the guides verse#tatooine#space#night sky#day sky#moon#sun#desert#wings#ghosts#star wars fanart#star wars#star wars au#fanfiction fanart
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dusting off one of the drafts for my many castlevania: curse of darkness thoughts/headcanons
im calling this one "cardinal rules for my ideal version of hector/isaac":
its so so so important, to me, when trying to conceptualize what hector and isaac's relationship looks like, there's the distinction of yes its definitely toxic, but not abusive
first and foremost is because if you start treating it as abusive, the narrative very easily lends itself to the trope of "isaac is the big mean scary seme while hec is just a poor sad widdle uke who takes his abuse bc he just wuvs him SO much 🥺🥺🥺"
which like is not only overplayed as hell in general, but after netflixvania i'm absolutely not entertaining the concept of hector being so disempowered and needlessly suffering under the guise of love - there's a million more interesting, subtle nuances in his canon that can touch on the concept of him being love-starved to the point of idiodicy without needing to resort to him being broken and bleeding but make it ~sexy~
second, and following the above's logic, it just flattens isaac's character SO much, and he already gets such a 2-dimensional treatment due to the simple fact we dont see much of him in his non-cursed state. dude is SO fucking interesting, actually, if you really try to get into his head and understand all the things that go into making a person like that who he is
third is - just because its not abusive, doesn't mean its 100% wholesome either; they both have alot of hangups and personal issues with the idea of love, boundaries, attachment, etc. borne out of their status as outcasts for it to ever be healthy. like yeah they make each other feel happy and wanted in a way being appreciated by drac doesn't approach, which are such foreign concepts for them they can't help but go ham at the chance to experience these things with each other - they're drunk on that first love juice in other words
fourth is because while i can quite easily, and personally do see isaac having a fucked up love language that involves inflicting physical pain, i dont count it as abuse bc in the way i envision things, hec is also a bit of a freak and lowkey enjoys it too - maybe because it was such a constant in his early life that he can find the pleasure in it, in this new context (idk if i want to use the word "consensual" to describe it. its definitely not like...smth premeditated they've agreed to)
and really maybe bc i just like the idea of hec having just a bit of an edge to him.
ig when it comes down to it, i just want them both to have enough similar shades of grey that would enable two near-polar opposite characters like them to be attracted to each other in the first place, even beyond the justification of "well, you're the only other person i have", with all the issues that would entail playing out in a somewhat realistic way
#castlevania#castlevania curse of darkness#castlevaniaposting#<- im making that my tag so i can gather my thoughts in one place#it shd go without saying but - this isnt to invalidate whatever YOU (the royal you) wanna do with them#and also not that i necessesarily dislike any interepretations of these two in the abovementioned offending dynamics#i just have a very specific canon exploration cooking in my head that hinges on this particular type of relationship
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I talk big about in-character writing as if I wasn't 2 chapters into a wx AU of a desperately tragic yet very hokey movie called 'unleashed' about an orphan raised like a dog by a mob boss as an enforcer who breaks free from his captors and starts reconnecting with his humanity and this orphan hero is none other than lan wangji...
edit: I'm almost done and this is less offensively bad that just....deeply odd. long rambling post under the cut
this is why I tend to dislike AUs based on very specific works - the characterizations and relationships just don't match and it feels like reading another story. because it IS.
first of all, why is this dehumanized and abused character manipulated into a weapon who lost his parents young and was treated like an animal lwj and not wwx? it would fit the story better. wwx (survivalist, very powerful, abused and used in canon) escapes and finds a lovely, stable, (wealthy), somewhat naive, caretaking piano teacher with a young son. he slowly recovers in a safe place as he grapples with his past of abuse and cruelty. he learns to love and be loved. but lwj is one of the wealthiest and most sheltered characters in the show! the choices simply do not make sense!
like...the lwj is decent, but that's only bc this lwj has been raised in very different circumstances and his core character traits (loving animals/music/wwx/small children, having a hidden humorous side, wanting to help people and generally unwilling to hurt the innocent) are somewhat simplistic. his other important traits (like his specific relationship with rules, his character arc as it related to his sect, how he acts wrt his privilege) don't really get a chance to manifest in this situation. he's pretty straightforward, which just makes the wx dynamic pretty boring.
based on his thoughts and dialogue, wwx just thinks he's just a hot sweetheart and so so good and brave. which he IS ig, but it's lacking the drama or intrigue or flair of canon. canon wwx didn't fall in love with simply a good brave kind sweetheart, he fell in love with someone with very strong principles that aligned with his, who challenged him at every turn and surprised him with his hidden sweet side and caretaking streak and humor and eventual willingness to break rules. who is also hot and good at swordfighting. there's shades of this to the relationship, but it's ultimately just a watered-down and decontextualized version of canon. and the draw of wwx and lwj and their relationship has so much to do with canon that this AU is just kind of boring and irrelevant to read
speaking of which, the wwx is VERY odd and somewhat insulting. he's currently a single dad of a-yuan (🙄, and side note but wq and wn aren't even RELATED to the bad wens???? way to drop a really important and thematically relevant detail), and he's a building super so he collects rents, and his personal history is similar to college except he has this really strange characterization around college and in this entanglement with this woman whose death he feels responsible for. like he describes himself as a failing student who drank way too much without getting into the why of it all or the other people who were definitely in his life at the time, also canon wwx at that same age was still a highly prolific and celebrated author even in the midst of severe trauma AND alcoholism. and he described himself and this oc woman as 'two shitty people who had nobody else to be shitty with' or something and then talked about how she was an addict and it was just a really strange and and insulting (to addicts) and ooc direction for his character to be taken.
like wwx always had a ton of friends except for when he was a social pariah for saving people from literal death camps and even then the wens and his siblings really cared about him so idk why his primary social connection is this oc woman whose only purpose is to have a baby and then be a bad mother/partner and then die to make wwx feel angsty. like, he does talk about her ballet skills and her intelligence and her humor but her role in the story is pure plot device. it must be from the original movie but it's SO random and shitty and ooc and cruel to addicts? and if you write an AU for a fanfic that you want to make sense you really have to actually alter the other work a bit to accommodate the other relationships and character dynamics. it would have made more sense for wwx to be barely scraping by while working three jobs and getting disowned by the jiangs and still getting straight As even if he struggled with alcoholism. and then he still would have taken in a-yuan if the alternative was the foster system. a-yuan's biological parentage and wx's adoption of him is genuinely so important oh it makes me mad they erased that
speaking of family, the jc and jyl aren't too bad and the jfm is mostly fine but the myu is bizarre. instead of the abusive, out of control, shaming, self-centered, violent woman from canon who literally hates wwx's guts, she's a kind of sharp divorcee whose method to curry favor with her grandchildren is to buy them expensive gifts and who asks nosy but well-meaning questions about wwx's love life. I do think myu would dote on a grandchild, but NOT if it was wwx's. his role in the jiangs is a little difficult to translate completely accurately to a modern setting, but her dislike for him and her blame on him for ruining her marriage and being better than her son is a really important part of her character. adult wwx would by all rights offer her the respect she is due as his parental figure, but would likely avoid her when possible and need to seek support from other people in his life when he interacts with her. and I don't think he'd easily let her be a part of his child's life. because she abused him as a child and teenager!
#stories like this in which someone is so completely dehumanized and isolated#to the point they cant read and don't know how to operate in the world are so very disturbing#im thinking of real life situations I read about. I don't have many fictional examples since I avoid these stories#really harrowing and heartbreaking stories. I do not tend to enjoy them in fiction#but for all the disclaimers about being ooc I actually think this is pretty decent characterization#for an lwj who was literally treated like a dog for his entire life#ficblogging
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maria and louise sketches #1
so i had this random idea that i just COULDN’T get out of my head.
i hadn’t really seen any genderbend of mario and luigi as much as i had seen peach. and when i did see some, they were mostly just anime girls with red and green caps on. so i kept wondering how a girl version, *with their original form in mind*, would look like.
that’s sort of the difficulty of this thing,how would their bodytype translate to a femme form?, what would i do without their mustaches? it’s their trademark! how could you tell its mario and luigi without their iconic mustaches?. what about their noses?. also using references from the already existing girl characters in the mario universe, most of them wear lipstick, would mario and luigi have to wear lipstick then? what about their hair?. but im also thinking about how nintendo designs girl characters and try to match that to make it as canon looking as possible
now onto explaining the pictures.
1 - the motive behind the lipstick idea. shows their hair with and without their hats, how much would be visible with them on. to sort of match the og design instead of having their bangs under the hats which just looks funky.
2 - paper mario/smaller looking/manga design, mario and luigi have very expressive faces and body shapes and i didnt want the genderbend to prevent that bc “girls r supposed to be pretty statues buh buh buh” that typically makes them look stiff or like just hot girls in a masceraude. m&l have a typical “squash and stretch duo” (i swear this makes sense pls look it up). the bodies are supposed to look neutral, that could belong to either the guys or girls and shows their natural body shape while holding the same goofyness.
3/4 - lipstick ideas, a natural shade vs the brown matching the OG’s mustaches and their hair. the brown and natural lipstick shade works better(imo) than something the girls from peach’s universe would typically wear like red or pink. the brown and nude color just sort of reflects their whole “we’re just two italian guys from brooklyn who get down and dirty with our sewage plumbing job” so i dont think they’d wear anything bright even if they were girls, if they even wear lipstick at all!! it doesnt matter which one really.
5/6 - rough body sketches. the blue one is their bodies more semi-“realistically” or just more like the usual art style, you can see the curve and flops. the red is more rounded up, basically how those 3d nintendo models of mario and luigis bodies, simpler shapes, smooth with no interruption, how nintendo would model their bodies in games basically. you can see the simple little tummy luigi has on louise’s body too. basically a “if u remove the boobs its basically them” as identical bodies as possible.
this is obviously not the finished product, as i still have their clothes to go. maybe i’ll even add voice headcanons?. its like a little project. again, i dont know where this urge came from but i love complicating already existing character design :D
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the long awaited wip graveyard post
i thought the title was fitting for halloween :p
this post is an assorted collection of all my old thaw wips that i deemed not good enough to post, but didn't want to just rot away in my folder, so now they're here.
enjoy !
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the Eye post
fun fact: i used the same seven colored pencils for both the thes eye and the tommy one, i just made the grayer shades more emphasized for the latter. thought that was a neat little detail.
q's eye here makes his skin look a lil more purple
i impulsively gave quackity an eyebrow when i didn't sketch it before, and the way it turned out bothered me >:((
not a wip because i absolutely would never give this abomination its own post, but this is basically what my scratch paper sheet looks like when i want to test out how different colors look with each other, and also get a really, Really rough idea of what the final product will look like. this is the process i go through Every time i draw something serious. 😭
peep all 7 colors of the chaosduo's eyes under the thes eye practice
LMAO AND THE THES FACE 8 SECOND SKETCH LOOKS LIKE HE'S ON DRUGS IT'S SO SILLY
can you see me struggling to figure out how to wrap the rune around q's pupil? and also how to make the rune not just Completely disappear bc of how dark his eye is? yeah. traditional art is a pain is the ass sometimes, but i'm still wayy better at it.
also shoutout to @alexanderwesker for giving me an idea of what the rune on q's eye looks like, because i like being as accurate as i can when i draw stuff, so that was very much appreciated!
the part 2 to the hero's journey comic
i went fucking Ham during the hero's journey assignment, so much so that i literally planned like 19 more panels than what you saw in the original post (27 panels planned in total). but then i realized that i had like Four Whole Days to do that assignment, and would definitely not be able to do that many, especially not without burning out.
so i instead settled for the very first 8 panels that i planned (though even then, i had to abridge a lot of it, and also cut slime entirely from it, bc otherwise those 8 would have been 14 whole panels, and i think i would actually die-), since that was just enough to show two different steps of the hero's journey (crossing the threshold and meeting the mentor btw. i could probably do a whole analysis on how wesker's stories fit into the hero's journey if i wanted to, but i'm lazy rn and this post is already pretty long), and that was the big grading requirement. (i got 100% on that assignment btw 💪and my english teacher still has no clue that he graded minecraft fanfiction fanart LMAO) but this one is what i would have included if i had more time on the project, and could include more of the story, but as it stands, i made this one in my own leisure, because comics are fun to do.
anyways, with that little rant aside, i tried my best to make q look younger than quackity, and really accentuate the difference between them. idk how i feel about how q turned out though.
i'm really proud of the paneling, and i'm also kinda proud of the first frame with quackity's face in particular bc i thought it looked cool, like an actual comic book or something. but i couldn't figure out the card physics or perspective and that's what ultimately made me choose to abandon it 💔 maybe i'll try attempting this page again when i'm feeling more daring (as well as the other panels that i still haven't even drawn yet), but this wip has been collecting dust for a couple of months now so i figured i'd share it here anyway.
Palido
i drew palido a bit ago, but bro got somehow managed to get crinkled in my bag, even while literally being Inside of my sketchbook 🤨
it's not Too awfully noticeable though, especially bc the fold isn't On the drawing itself, so i might be able to salvage him and post a finished version someday... but i kinda halted progress on him for the time being bc of it, so here he is. </3
"Am I Still Even Me?"
i 1000% want to redraw this someday, just because i think the idea behind it is so fucking neat.
honestly, this one wasn't too bad at all, especially since i did all of it (besides the bones bc i think my health professions teacher would be disappointed if i got them wrong, and also the rune bc i care way too much about accuracy) without any reference, which is a pretty impressive feat for me and my aphantasia. but yeahh i think it could definitely be better, and really, this drawing was ultimately something that i just drew in class to keep myself busy for a bit bc i had way too much freetime that day. it wasn't intended to be post-worthy or anything.
but i think that the idea behind it is definitely post-worthy. maybe i'll even add a thes and/or youngerbur addition once i get more information about them and just how they've changed yk.
i had no clue how to draw the bones in that position, i probably could've done more research but. yeah no i don't have an excuse, i just couldn't be bothered that day lmao.
i was also gonna bloody q's hands a bit if i ever got to the coloring stage. like a little nod to when he lost himself to Madness. is the blood actually there? who knows, we're seeing it from his eyes, so for all we know, the rune isn't even lit up either, and he's just remembering it being so. remembering the moment he acted so unlike how he used to be.
the bones are definitely there for charlie though, poor guy...
also can y'all tell that i drew the rune in like. 5 seconds. bc yeah.
i had way more wips to share but i have literally no clue where they went, and also the tumblr picture limit is getitng close so ig that's all for now </3
like for a part 2 (whenever i accumulate enough wips to warrant a post, that is)
#i reserve the right to resurrect these wips at any time#so don't be surprised if one day you see a finished/redrawn version of any of these#thaw#the house always wins#fanart for a fanfic#my art#thaw fanart#wips#the house always wins fic#thaw!charlie#thaw!quackity#thaw!q#traditional art
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— road gate.
masterlist. / nav.
❰ about. the one where we get billy back bc screw the duffelbag bros
❰ warnings. fem!reader, mentions of smut, angst, fluff, grieving, mentions of blood
❰ word count. 4.1k
❰ note. reader doesn’t know much about the upside down, and didn’t get involved with the party until the events of season three. she’s known max and billy since they first came to hawkins! also, i may write more than one version of billy coming back inspired from some theories i’ve seen. this one just came to me randomly and might not make sense or could be messy, but i just want him back anyway, anyhow dammit 😭
His absence was like a gray sky, spread over everything, and as sad as the beginning of springtime. Few people cried for him.
You held your grief, two limp tulips in each hand, and one in your mouth. Your grip was tight, and your cries muffled by the stem. No one else cared to water these flowers, these memories of sacrifice, for Billy. Your tears were not enough to keep them alive. You nor Max, the only people he was rooted in.
So you ripped the flowers out like knives from a body, letting the arteries dry up—letting every emotion finally bleed out. It was too much to keep the tulips in the earth of your heart when they were already dying. You needed to move on, but not forget.
Shut away in your room, and sitting on your bed, you let yourself feel the hurt. The hurt was important to heal.
You went through all the shades of blood, from the brightest—the best memories of you and Billy, to the last degree of reds—black. Terrible anxiety. It seized you by the throat. Seized you by the need for Billy’s existence—the feeling that without him you were lost, or rather, that you preferred anything at all to having lost him.
Your anguish made you fold in on yourself, chest pressing to your knees. It made your hands form claws, fingers curling in like a dead spider’s legs. You froze in that position, rigid as if plagued by rigor-mortis. You trembled as your sobs forced your jaws apart in a silent scream. It pained your jaws to be open so wide, and caused a heavy headache.
Griefs and regrets came to you one by one, attracted to the smell of your emotions’ blood. They perched on your shoulders as crows, weighing you down even more, talons sinking into you.
You wished you looked at Billy longer. All those times he tried to invite reactions out of you by standing so close his scent filled your lungs—teakwood, leather, and cigarettes, and angling his head down to try and meet your eyes. You were too flustered to do more than glances, but he thought it was cute. It showed in the way he grinned—the type of smile he only ever had around you.
His happiness was as rare as a blue moon, and when it was there, it was like a chord from his favorite song—of such pure gravity. It saddened you to see how he normally felt; angry, and needing to lash out from pain, by inflicting it. But he didn’t deserve to suffer or die. He was not unforgivable. He just needed the chance to change, to do better.
You wished you could have given him more happiness. Something to ease his pain. He didn’t always let you in, even when his eyes gleamed like liquid mercury with tears. Neil always made him feel weak, so Billy strived to be strong however he could.
You wished you touched him more than you already had the chance to. More than playing with the prominent curl of hair at his forehead, drawing a hand up his chest, exposed even beneath two layers of clothing, or simply embracing him.
In public, you were shy, but he never was. He secured an arm around you whenever he could; across your shoulders, or around your waist and hooked a finger in your belt loop. Always, in some way, you were pulled closer to him. He needed the kind of touch that didn’t instill fear, but comforted him, and you gave that to him.
In the school parking lot, you vividly remembered the boldest thing you did. You weren’t one to show off, but you were overcome with such a need for Billy that you didn’t care who saw.
You sat on the hood of his Camaro, and he stood between your legs, squeezing your hips. Like an enthused cat, his pupils were swollen, limiting the blue of his rises to a thin ring.
He glanced down to your chest, fitted with a cami top, and detailed with lace. The material had the sheen of pearls, and hugged your shape; the swell of your braless breasts, and the curves of your torso.
Stop looking, you thought. And do something.
When he didn’t, you did. And it took him by surprise. Pleasantly.
You snatched his chain necklace, Mother Mary and Son pendant imprinting your palm, and pulled him down to capture his lips. You fit him tighter between your legs, your other hand grasping his denim jacket.
The kiss was hot enough to join metals, and branded your memory forever. But you wished you had more of those moments. Always more than what you already had.
You could have had more time with him; if you skipped classes like he asked, if you didn’t leave his bed before late morning, if you lingered by the pool a little longer. But you tried to cherish what time you did have with him. You didn’t know it would be all you’d have.
Your anguish soon calmed, loosening its grip on your body, but you wondered if you had any blood left in you. As though you were coming down from hot flashes, your body was chilled and shivering.
Lying down on your side and scrunching up in the fetal position, you looked at the empty space next to you.
It was strange how memories were all around you. Strange, uninvited, and painful, yet still warming.
School nights never mattered. Billy found ways to convince you of that. He only wanted you, not good grades.
You had tried to make an effort to be quiet when he knelt down and got his fingers full of you, his mouth on you. The splash of his tongue melted you like a sugar cube.
Then you were full of him, and every thrust took you and him together like a violin bow, drawing sweet noises from two separate strings.
But it was the aftermath, in the morning light, waking up to him after he undid you the night before. His breaths were cool and light on your skin. He touched your face, reading the structure of you like braille; tracing the curve of your jawline and cheekbones, feeling the softness of your plush lips, lightly admiring the hickey on the pulse point of your throat.
You and him were quiet the whole time, but didn’t need words to speak to one another. Touch was a language, too.
You drew your fingers up his forearm, over the bumps of tendons, to tangle your fingers with his. Hands held up between you, sunlight gilded yours and Billy’s skin as if something holy was emanating from both of you.
You felt his pulse in his hand, and you were sure that was it. The mingling of heartbeats—thumping that morse code only lover’s understood.
A telltale pinch behind your eyes stole you from the memory. A memory of past bliss that became the anguish of today; how it leapt and snapped. How it nipped at you, unexpectedly. Cradling your hand, sobs bubbled out from you. You closed your eyes, hot tears stinging like fresh wounds.
“Y/N.”
Your eyes snapped open, body shocked stiff.
The voice was faint, and echoey as if coming from the end of a chasm. Wavering as if underwater. It was Billy’s voice.
On your nightstand, the lamp’s light stuttered like a palpitating heart.
Hearing his voice, seeing lights tremble—it had been constant for almost a year. You had not only lost Billy, but maybe your mind as well.
You didn’t talk to anyone about it. Not your parents. They didn’t know how Billy really died, and would medicate you for your “hallucinations”, or put you up with a shrink.
You didn’t talk to Max about it, either. Not lately. She withdrew from everyone. You still took her to school some days, but she was never there in that passenger seat. Her headphones whisked her away from this world as much as a good book did.
Your escape was Billy’s Camaro. You had saved it from the scrapyard, using your college funds to buy it and fix it up yourself. You didn’t have much knowledge of cars, but made do with books and lessons from VHS tapes.
The Camaro wasn’t the only thing of Billy’s you managed to keep. You had his denim and leather jackets, his necklace, and his silver spike earring.
Having the things of a person was never as good as having who they belonged to, just as you couldn’t enjoy a flower with only one of its petals. Although, these belongings kept you as close as you could get to someone who was gone. The connection to Billy through his things was a thin, measly string, but it meant everything. Just as much as the memories did—good and bad.
As you kept turning him over in your mind and in your heart, you closed your eyes again, exhaustion weighing you down like overly damp clothes.
God help him. He had no one to guide him. He was in the dark, and the only light was red. It blinked and cracked the black sky. All around him, spores floated like marine snow in the oceans. Fleshy vines branched across everything—up walls, trees, across the ground. Creatures, some with faces that opened up as toothed petals, prowled and flew overhead.
Billy was sure it was hell, perhaps his personal hell. It mirrored Hawkins, yet there were no other people, and his house didn’t have his belongings—as though he never lived in it. But your house—it was where he went to and stayed. He always felt safest there, even in what he assumed to be hell, or purgatory.
Your home had your things, especially your mom’s, from her Eternal Beau and Hornsea Pottery collections in the kitchen, to the glass fish ornaments and L’Enfant Poster in the living room.
The name plaque on your bedroom door ensured that Billy, as well as your prying parents, knew exactly whose messy and poster adorned room lay within. Almost every girl had a door plaque, and if it helped you to assert your individuality, then why not?
But Billy didn’t recognize some things in your room. You had Duran Duran and Spandau Ballet posters (if you weren’t Duran Duran then you were all about Tony Hadley and the Kemp Brothers) when he remembered posters of Mötley Crüe, Twisted Sister, and AC/DC.
What he did recognize were your Pound Puppies—teddies based on sad-eyed, homeless dogs in the pound, snow globes, your lockable diary, Smash Hits magazines, and your boom box. Even if it was tacky, it was pink, and you probably played Wham and Duran Duran because, of course, before the hormones kicked in and you wanted posters of real rockstars on your walls, you were a lot more innocent.
Such as with your Care Bears. A sunshine bear, a lucky bear, and one of the love bears sat lined up against your pillows; neat as books on a library shelf.
Billy stood by your bed. It was tidy, like usual, but he had known it to be unmade most days because of him. He grabbed the coral pink Love-a-Lot Bear, remembering...
He snagged the bear and flopped onto your bed with a content sigh, crossing his legs. He held the pink plush on his bare chest, red button shirt as open as a sliced wound.
“Can you give me some privacy, please?” Girded with a towel, you moved to your dresser. “Like, just close your eyes or something.”
“Mmm.” Billy hummed, closing his eyes, and pressing his lips into a thin line. “No.” He opened his eyes, using the care bear’s paw to point at you.
You rolled your eyes and turned your back to him, digging around in your drawers.
“Why are you so shy all a sudden?”
“I’m not. I just don’t like being watched. It’s like when teachers are looking over your shoulder during a test.”
“I like looking at you.” He knew you by your sounds, your movements, so well. He always tried to listen and look at you like you were new to him. He didn’t want to get used to you, didn’t want to lose you to habit. He wanted to experience you every day like the first time he saw you, the first time he heard your voice, and the first time he felt you.
“For how much longer?” You spoke quietly, maybe not meaning for him to hear it, but he did.
“Hey.” His heavy tone made you turn to him, and he moved away from the bed to stand before you. He gripped the care bear at his side. “You think I’m gonna move on to the next girl after a few weeks? Think I’ll get bored?”
You looked up at him with eyes like your stuffed Pound Puppy’s, big and droopy. When he saw you looking up like that he knew that he loved you, and that it was for always. He knew it then and there. It was a strange feeling - when he knew quite certainly in himself that something was for always.
“Do I still find you sexy, and will I continue to? Hell. Yes.” He emphasized the two words by tapping the care bear’s nose against yours. It elicited a flustered smile from you, one that you tried to hide by dipping your head.
Warmth bloomed in Billy’s chest. “Look at me, princess.”
You did.
“I still try to get a peek at you when you get out of the shower, or when you get dressed in the morning. I want to look at you because I like you. Maybe more than I thought I would.”
“Then you’re an idiot, Billy Hargrove. You’re stuck with me.”
His smile pinched dimples in his cheeks. “Guess that means I’m your idiot.”
He heard you crying again. The sounds faded in and out like a tuning radio. He sank to his knees like a desperate man into prayer beside your bed, gripping the Love-a-Lot bear. “I’m here. I’m here…” He cried. The crying of something leaving the body—hope.
He had tried to talk to you. Tried to let you know he was stuck and could hear you. He heard everything you said, and even the music you played.
The first time he heard the music from your pink boombox, Cutting Crew’s song, “I’ve Been In Love Before” was playing. And something cradled the boombox, hanging in the air like dust.
Wary, Billy touched the particles, and as he did the song was tuned louder, the dust turned gold around his hand. The same thing happened with lights when he neared them. They got brighter.
He thought he could reach you this way, but it didn’t seem to work. He wondered if you were even hearing him when he tried to talk, or when he messed with your lights and music.
He knew this had to be his personal hell when he could hear you, when he knew you were there on the other side, but no matter what he did he would go unheard; be a ghost in the wall, fated to only observe as things lived and moved on without him.
Billy turned his back to your bed and settled down against it, eyes dry as a salt bed, and holding your care bear to his abdomen. A tear drew a hot line down his cheek, and he closed his eyes.
After you awoke, you retreated outside to the Camaro. All you had left to do was paint the scratches left from repaired dents, and the areas where the original paint was burned off.
You sat on a vibrantly colored gym scooter, able to easily roll around the car. Like a jeweler looking through a loupe, you focused intently on the scratches, blinking the strain from your eyes as you colored them in.
When you were done, you used your feet to push yourself away, the wheels of the scooter scratching against the cement. Admiring the car in full view, you drew in a deep, shaky breath. It was done.
Closing the driver’s door, you sat for a moment. You were almost too nervous to start the Camaro. Or too excited? You looked at the rearview mirror. Hanging from it was Billy’s necklace and earring—your lucky dice.
They were the push you needed. You turned the key, startling the engine awake, and jumpstarting your heart. It beat furiously in your chest and ears, but the vibrations from the car’s grumbling eased you.
Billy opened his eyes. He’d know that growl anywhere. He fled your room, following the noise outside. Through the spores, floating like wispy cotton seeds, he saw the dust again, mimicking where his car’s tail lamps and headlights were.
You had his Camaro.
He heard it accelerate, and like jets drawing clouds in the sky, the dust trailed behind.
His knee jerk reaction was to try and follow, but he stopped himself, knowing you’d be back. But when? Your empty house here felt emptier without your ghostly presence.
A cawing screech made him whip around, heart stuttering. The creature, with the face of a hookworm and leathery wings, was perched on the porch light. It wagged its wings and leapt from the light, prompting Billy to run for the tree line.
Gliding over the roof, more bats gathered like snowflakes. Their flapping shapes, appearing as static, were accentuated by the sky’s pulsing crimson light. They angled down after Billy.
The wind tossed and played with your hair as you sped down lonely roads, tracing their curves and ignoring their low number limits. You drove as Billy always did—a little too fast, a little too recklessly. You wanted to relive him anyway you could.
You momentarily closed your eyes, imagining it was you and him in the car, and he was the one driving. You held your hand out of the window, dipping into the high winds, and splaying your fingers; the breeze seeping through like cool water.
You saw Billy beside you, crooked smile teasing his mouth, and bumping his palm on the steering wheel to the beat of Poison.
The softness of his smile overwhelmed you with the stirring of wings in your chest. I’m gone for him, you had thought fondly. Aren’t I?
It was true. He was as deep in you as your pulse.
Absorbed in daydreams, you must have driven all around Hawkins, outlasting the sunlight. Night took reign, and on your way back you mindlessly took the road Fred Benson’s corpse was found on.
And something glowed ahead. A light, deeply hued as a natural, red spinel stone, poked through the middle of the road.
Billy hid in a gutted cabin, waiting, and trembling. It had been quiet, save for the thunder. The storm was always the same, never a molten silver sky, never shedding cool tears, only angry—like an infected wound.
He missed sunlight. He missed the shitty cow smell of Hawkins. He missed you. He missed his shitbird sister Mad Max. He missed being safe.
Here, everything was a threat, from the way the sky wrote its bad omens in messy red ink, to the predators always looking for him. Billy didn’t know what would happen if he was caught by one of the creatures. If he was killed, would he come back and be forced to try and survive all over again?
He moved away from the wall to peek out of the window, its jagged glass teeth threatening to chomp down on him as if he were in the jaws of an anglerfish. He skimmed the canopies for the bats—whether they were flying or camping in the branches. Nothing.
He emerged from the woods onto a road. He had to get back to your house. It was the only place he wanted to be here. But he heard something familiar to his right. The sound of his car.
You slowed the Camaro to a stop, and sat there, staring at the gaping wound. Quite literally. It looked like flesh sliced open.
Leaving the car running, you stepped out of it, haloed by the headlights. They cast a cookie cutter shape of your shadow that stretched taller than you. You warily approached the glowing gash.
Standing over it, you couldn’t see through, but the concealing of whatever was inside was thin—like skin stretched taut over a drum.
Billy expected the sound of the Camaro to pass by, but it stood still as those clouds of dust. For some reason, you had stopped. And then he saw the muffled light reaching out from the road. He thought it was sunlight, real daylight, when it was only from the Camaro.
He hurried to it, and upon seeing a human shadow stamped to the flesh of the gate, his body heat was snuffed out. Was it you? Slowly, he lowered to one knee. His body felt like an eggshell filled with arctic water; so cold, he could feel it emanate off of him.
“Who’s there?” He called.
You stilled, lungs on pause, and eyes blown wide as a camera lens. Billy. His voice. Coming from the other side?
“I said, who’s there?!”
Like a puppet cut from its strings, your legs gave out and you dropped to your knees. God damn everything if this wasn’t real. “Billy?!”
“Y/N? It’s you? Is that you?!” Emphasizing his last three words, Billy frantically beat his hands against the pavement.
“Billy, it’s me!” Your throat closed up, almost too tight to speak. “I’m here.”
Faraway screeching sounded. Billy twisted around, and flapping wings in the sky injected desperation into his voice. “Fuuuck! They’re coming!”
“Who? Billy, how do I get to you?!” Then you recalled that what covered the gate looked thin. Thin enough to easily break. At least you hoped so. “Billy grab my hand!”
Grimacing, you plunged your hand through the moist flesh, bursting out on Billy’s end like something undead waking from its grave. He seized you by the forearm, his grip a metal clamp.
You pulled, but the gravity of the gate kept it from being easy. You grabbed Billy’s arm and straightened up, bending your knees to get leverage. Gritting your teeth, tendons in your neck swelled as though they might pop free.
Like uprooting a long weed, Billy rose out from the road. He slapped his free hand down and pushed himself up, muscles bulging, and onto his side.
The strength snuffed from your body, you collapsed by him. Neither of you let go of one another. You always had the strength to hold on no matter what.
Eyes rimmed with stinging tears, you looked at him—all of him. His hair was wet and plastered to his face, as if he had just risen from water. Dried blood stained his white top like cola spilled over a table cloth. The blood from nine months ago.
You reached for him, moving the hair from his face to see his eyes. Fright and exhaustion shadowed them. But they were still as blue as you remembered.
You realized he was shaking.
“Billy,” you whispered. You thought of how many nights you had lain awake missing him, and caught hold of him tightly, melting against him like snow into fire.
He snaked an arm around you, molding you to him.
The miracle of both of your actualities, your breathing forms, and of being able to hold one another again was as great a miracle as hope and desperation may produce. Perhaps greater.
He drew a hand up your figure and sowed his fingers in your hair like roots in soil. Burying his face in the nook of your throat, he whispered in a broken, strained voice, “Y/N, I was so scared. So scared. I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt anybody. He made me do it. Please, he made me do it. I’m sorry.”
He was home. And the first thing he did was apologize.
“I know.” You squeezed words out from your tight throat. “I know it wasn’t you.” You cradled his cheek, encouraging him to look at you—even with those eyes, glistening like light striking the edges of a diamond. “It’s not your fault.” You touched your thumb to the edge of his lips. “You’re safe now.”
He relaxed in your hold, his trembling easing away from the warmth of your words. Closing his eyes, tears escaped down his cheeks—one touching the webbing between your fingers. He exhaled a shaky breath he had been holding for months. He had finally awoken from a nightmare. It was all over.
You kissed him as you had in the school parking lot, but with the hunger of a year, and the tenderness of promise.
Pressing your forehead to his, you murmured, “You’re home, now.”
❰ tags. @bdpst-massacre
#billy hargrove x reader#billy hargrove#billy hargrove imagine#billy hargrove x fem!reader#stranger things x reader
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Two for the Show
Summary: Jeff plans for Harry’s new opening act to be more than that.
Genre: Famous Fake Dating!
Word Count: 17.1k!
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A/N: Hey babes!! This is something I’ve been working on since December now and I’m so fucking proud of it and how it turned out!!! It’s the longest thing I’ve ever written and I’m so so so excited to hear what everyone has to say!! Giant thank you’s go out to the incredible soph (@theharriediaries) and Lu (@meetmymouth) bc this never would have come to fruition without them and their help!! Please let me know what you think!! More of my writing can be found in my masterlist!! Happy reading y’all :)
***
Keeping appearances in the public eye is a delicate balance.
If Y/N was being honest with herself, everything Full Stop Management had ever suggested to her had worked, and very well. When they suggested her music took a more pop direction, they set her up with a team of fantastic producers and her music sales and popularity skyrocketed. And when they set up an appointment with a celebrity stylist to figure out her signature style, it worked; they turned her into the 1970’s inspired goddess she had always dreamed of being. Even the hours of media training that she had been put through worked, helping her learn how to bob and weave even the most intrusive of interview questions.
But this time, she thought they might be going too far.
“Jeff,” she began with a sigh and a doubtful shake of her head, “I don’t know about this one.”
“It’s just a few months before and during the tour,” explained the man sitting across from her at the long conference table. “You’ll be seen in public a few times to drum up publicity for the tour and your album, maybe do an interview or two together, and some light PDA.”
His expression was honest and earnest. In the time he had represented her, he had never done anything to her that didn’t help her succeed. It was not hard for her to believe that he just wanted what was best for her and her career.
But something kept holding her back.
“I just got my heart broken in the most public way,” she said softly, absentmindedly fiddling with the base of her ring finger where an engagement ring once sat. “Isn’t it a little too soon to be seen jumping back into a whirlwind romance?”
“I don’t think so. If anything, it will make James look even worse than he already does after what he did to you.” She had to admit the idea of a little revenge did perk her ears up a bit. “And it doesn’t hurt that Harry is so universally loved and known for being such a good guy.”
That was another reason she was skeptical of this entire plot. This was Harry Styles they were talking about; Harry fucking Styles. She had only met him once or twice while working out details for her to be the opening act for his upcoming tour, but she had been a big fan of his and idolized him since she was a teen. Just meeting him threw her inner 16 year old self for a loop, let alone trying to pretend she was in love with him.
In all honesty, it probably wouldn’t be too hard on her end once she got over being starstruck; she wasn’t so sure she still wasn’t kind of in love with him, or at least the version the public saw.
“Listen,” Jeff began again, his voice taking on a bluntness, “no one cares about the opening act. No one bought tickets to see you; they’re there to see Harry.” His words stung but she knew it was the truth. “But if they think you are a part of Harry’s life, they care about you too. And they will keep on caring about you after they leave the show.” Her apprehensiveness must have been clear on her face when he put on a gentle smile. “He’s a really nice person. I promise.”
“I know,” she breathed, a small pout finding its way to her lips. “Fine,” she conceded after a moment, throwing her hands up in the air dramatically to signal surrender. “I’m in.”
A triumphant grin spread across his face. “Thank you. I’ll go call Harry and tell him you’re down.” She watched as he got up from his chair and came towards her, pressing a brief and friendly kiss to the top of her head. “You won’t regret this, Y/N.”
“I better not, Azoff,” she chuckled while shaking her head slightly.
Soon she was alone in the conference room, basking in the light from the floor to ceiling windows that sat before her.
“What did I just get myself into?” she mumbled quietly to herself.
***
The answer to that question came two weeks later when she was sitting across a table from the Harry Styles at a small outdoor brunch spot in LA. Their meeting place was strategic, a small restaurant, not too flashy so it didn’t look like they were seeking attention, but outdoors where anyone could see. It was only a matter of time before he was recognized, and the sighting was almost guaranteed to be trending on Twitter only minutes later.
She couldn’t say that she wasn’t nervous. The inside of her mouth had been chewed raw and the bags under her eyes showed she had been having trouble sleeping in the nights leading up to their first appearance together. By the end of the day, she would most likely have countless articles written about her and possibly have millions of angry fangirls coming after her; even though their “relationship” wouldn’t be officially confirmed for a few weeks.
If all went to Jeff’s plan, she would become an A-lister overnight.
She stood in front of her closet for over an hour, trying on and taking off outfits before finally settling on her favorite pair of bright red corduroy flares and a crisp white textured halter top. She paired the outfit with a new pair of heeled leather boots. They were a flashy pair that were split down the middle, bright yellow on one side and white with yellow stars on the other, hoping Harry would appreciate the bold colors.
She meticulously did her makeup, sure to match her lipstick color exactly to the shade of her pants; and spent far too long in front of the mirror fussing with her hair, praying it would lay the way she wanted it to.
She knew that she was going to be photographed in some way shape or form, and with the fashion icon himself. She had to look good. He had been on the cover of Vogue for god’s sake.
When she finally arrived at the cafe, Harry sat quietly across from her. He looked casual, or as casual as Harry Styles gets. A yellow t-shirt, that was tight enough to look as if it was painted on, showed off his muscular chest and arms. His iconic tattoos illustrated his arms and she hoped he wouldn’t notice as she covertly tried to examine closely. He uncomfortably ran his palms down the legs of his high waisted denim flares that had been paired with his signature pearl necklace and ratty, but well loved, white vans.
And she couldn’t forget his rings. His signature gold ‘H’ and ‘S’ looked back at her as he gently grasped his flute filled to the brim with a mimosa, bringing it to his pink lips that were surrounded by the short stubble he had been wearing lately.
The pair sat in a slightly awkward silence, both seeming to down their mimosas quickly just because it was something to do with their hands and could occupy their lips so they didn’t have to talk.
To say she was panicking, wouldn’t be too much of an over exaggeration. She was sitting across from one of the world’s biggest stars, and as one of his biggest closeted fans. The things he could do for her career were astronomical and it was hard to ignore that, but she also had a hard time getting over the way his hair seemed to fall into perfect tousled curls and his dreamy green eyes.
She had been in love with him (or at least the idea of him) since she was 16. She couldn’t help it.
But the bottomless mimosas helped to break her anxiety, and apparently his as well, as they both began to feel a slight buzz.
“So how did Jeff end up talking you into this?” Harry eventually broke the silence, the alcohol lowering his naturally shy inhibitions just enough to kick off their conversation.
She let a playful eye roll take over her face before she began. “Oh Jeff,” she said jokingly, letting out a long sigh. “I was convinced somewhere in between ‘it’ll make your ex look bad’ and a stern ‘no one ever cares about the opening act,’” she chuckled, while sarcastically wagging her finger in the air, dramatically re-enacting his scolds.
He sucked in a breath through his teeth, letting out a dramatic ‘ouch.’ “He’s not always gentle, is he?” matching her chuckle.
“He knows where to hit you where it hurts,” she laughed, while nodding in agreement. “How did he convince you?”
“Coincidently, he also took a low blow involving my ex. I believe his words were ‘You wrote an entire album about her and haven’t dated anyone since and it makes you look kind of pathetic.’” He dramatically used air quotes and did his best impression of Jeff’s American accent. She couldn’t hold back the giggles that erupted from her.
“Oh my goodness,” she let out through slightly buzzed giggles, “you definitely win.”
From that point, their conversation began to flow more easily, easing her anxiety as she learned he was generally easy to talk to. He laughed at her jokes, and she laughed at his. He really did have the calming and disarming quality that people always said he had, like could melt down any walls and convince you to be honest with him, even if you didn’t really want to be. She was shocked to find that she wanted him to genuinely be a friend to her so badly. He was just so nice and such a good listener.
Their conversation took a turn when Harry’s super power of knowing when his picture was being taken kicked in. “Give me your hand,” he said to her, diverting from the pleasant conversation they had been having about their families. “Don’t look but there’s someone across the street taking photos of us.”
His instructions brought her back to the reality that they weren’t really friends and that all of this was for show.
She brought her hand up to meet his, strategically resting on the side of the table that faced the street, giving the camera the best view. The cool metal of his hand full of rings felt good against her skin that had been baking in the hot LA sun and he passed his thumb over her knuckles with faux affection.
She couldn’t help but feel a dishonest weight pulling on her heart. She knew everything was going to plan and this was all for the best, but it also felt slightly wrong. She played with her small heart shaped earring to distract herself from the sinking feeling.
“Harry,” she began, knowing the people across the street were out of ear shot. Her voice brought his attention from her hand back up to her eyes. “Does this feel wrong to you at all?”
“How so?”
“It just feels dishonest, like we’re lying to millions of people, our–well, mostly your fans.” She couldn’t help but correct herself.
His eyes softened at her words, like he was taking in the innocence she still held onto after only being in the industry for a short time, compared to his decade in the spotlight.
“I try not to think of it as lying,” he spoke slowly after a moment of thinking. He nodded along softly to punctuate his words. “When you think about all this as lying, it starts to weigh pretty heavy on you as a person. I try to be as honest as possible in my music and daily life, but that’s not always what people want to see. They want a show that will entertain them, and it is our job to give it to them.”
“I see,” she mused.
They sat together for another hour or so, allowing their small mimosa buzz to wear off enough for them to drive the short distances to their homes. The pair eventually found their way back to a comfortable conversation, but Harry’s comment about being in the public eye still weighed on her.
Suddenly, she wasn’t sure if all of this was worth it. Y/N was a master at dodging a question and turning the charm to 10 when it was needed, but she wasn’t a liar and she definitely wasn’t an actress. She hoped she (or Jeff) hadn’t bitten off more than she could chew with all of this.
Harry eventually walked her back to her car that was parked a few blocks away, and while she was sure he was doing it for the cameras, she didn’t doubt that he would have done it even if they weren’t there. He just seemed like that kind of guy to her; caring and trustworthy.
“Thank you for a very nice date, Harry,” she said, winking and chuckling along with the extra emphasis she put on the last word.
“My pleasure,” he smiled down at her. He moved along with her as she walked to the driver's side door, opening it for her like a perfect gentleman. The two stood close, his body hovering over her’s as they stood inside the open door. Her heart rose to her throat as he leaned down to her and pressed a gentle kiss to her burning cheek.
Y/N looked back up at him with rosy cheeks and a tightlipped bashful smile. She watched as he walked backward carefully, taking her hand that had been locked with his until he was too far and let it fall back to her body.
She situated herself in her drivers seat and was ready to leave when she heard a knocking on the passenger side window that startled her. Harry had bent himself over and was motioning for her to roll the window down. When she did, he leaned himself in, an honest look in his eyes.
“Before you go,” he said gently. “A word of advice from someone who had been in the public eye for a long time,” he spoke with a tender yet serious tone, eyes locking with hers. “When you go home today, don’t go on social media. People are mean, and it’s just going to hurt.” She nodded along with his words and watched as he pinched his bottom lip. “And when you inevitably can’t resist, text me if you need to talk about it.”
***
They must have done a good job putting on their show because within an hour of her returning home to her apartment, they were all anyone was talking about. Their names were trending worldwide #1 on Twitter. Streams of Y/N’s debut album were up by 800%, and even Harry’s streams had taken a considerable jump. Y/N had gained 40,ooo new followers and views on every interview she had ever done were steadily rising.
All was going according to Jeff’s plan.
Harry’s words circled her brain for hours. “Don’t go on social media,” she heard him say over and over again as she paced her apartment, only stopping to look at the phone sitting on the kitchen counter every so often.
She had taken a shower, done her hair, tried to watch TV, cooked herself dinner, and even tried to sit down and write a song; it all got her nowhere fast. The unknown was eating at her inside.
Y/N broke when she heard the small ding signaling she had gotten a text message. She had all but sprinted to see who it was, reunited with the outside world through her touch screen. Unsurprisingly, it was from Jeff; the message sent to her and an unknown number she assumed to be Harry’s.
Good job, kiddos., was all it read but there was a photo attached to the message. Her heart stopped while she waited for the photo to load, cursing her slow wifi in the process. After a few breathless moments, the photo came through.
It was a screenshot from the website of one of the biggest entertainment magazines in the country. A picture of him kissing her cheek was the front page of the website.
Harry Styles and Y/N Y/L/N Rumored To Be Music’s New Power Couple Ahead of Tour
She was honestly speechless. This was huge.
She would like to say the sheer shock blurred her judgement, but the curiosity just got the better of her. Harry’s words repeated over and over again in her head, telling her not to, even as her finger connected with the icon of the little blue bird.
She was the most talked about topic in the entire world, her name hovering in bold letters on the trending page. She did everything she could to not click on her name, but her fingers did it all on her own.
The first few tweets were nice. Someone said they liked her style and that they looked cute together as a couple. Another said that they had always enjoyed her music and that they were happy for them.
But as she scrolled, it became harsher and just mean. People commented on her weight, said she couldn’t sing, and criticized her personality as seeming fake and forced. Her eyes were locked on the screen, unable to look away, as her heart began to break and few tears began to roll.
It took one final, and the most painful, tweet for her to consider deleting her account completely. She swiped out of the app fast, but the words were still burned into her brain.
Y/N is using Harry, just like she used James before he got rid of her and found someone better.
The words knocked the wind out of her, pouring salt on an open wound that had yet to heal.
She also had the little blue bird for that heartbreak as well. When she opened the app two months ago, the first thing she saw was pictures of her (former) fiance, James, with his tongue down some girl’s throat. At the time she had been devastated, her heart broken beyond repair.
It felt like no one else in the world could understand the way she was feeling. If she was in this position because of another person, they must get it too. The text to Harry was already sent before she had time to think it over.
I looked and I shouldn’t have. I’m sorry that I didn’t listen.
His response came only seconds later.
Don’t be sorry. It’s hard not to. Are you alright?
She had to think about his question, unsure if she knew the answer. Tears were still running down her face and she felt like she was a target the entire world had decided it was open season on. Logically, she knew these people never thought she would see these awful things, but it didn’t excuse the hurt she felt when she did.
I don’t know. I just don’t understand how people can be so cruel.
She felt like she was bothering him, even though he had offered to be there for her. He wasn’t her best friend, or a close confidant; he was her fake publicity boyfriend. He had real friends he wanted to talk to or maybe even a real girlfriend underwraps somewhere. Her body was wracked with guilt as she thought it over.
People are just mean on the internet, okay? They think they can say whatever they want without repercussions. I’m so sorry that you are being targeted because of me.
Before she got a chance to think through a proper response to him, her phone dinged with another text. It was from Jeff again.
Really good job, kiddos.
Y/N was confused. They hadn’t done anything else but be seen together today. Her sick sense of curiosity got her again before she opened Twitter again and looked up Harry’s name. He had tweeted for the first time in six months only a few moments ago.
@Harry_Styles: We treat people with kindness.
***
The next time she saw him was two days later at yet another public meet up Jeff had arranged for them. Unfortunately this time, she had become just as famous as Harry seemingly overnight, the flames of her new found fame growing even larger after he had sent that tweet.
While the fame had grown, the hate had calmed since his statement, which most had taken as an official declaration of their relationship. Now, that was not to Jeff’s plans.
She had to fight her way out of her apartment complex, wearing a pair of massive dark sunglasses with circular lenses and shielding her face with her hands the best she could. But she did have to admit that the electric orange fabric of her jumpsuit probably didn’t do much to help her blend in and avoid the attention of the paparazzi that had now found out where she lived.
Harry was sitting at the table by himself facing the back of the cafe when she arrived, two cups of coffee waiting before him to be drank together placed delicately on the table. He had his head down, buried in a book, before she startled him with a hug from behind. Her cheek connected with his warm neck where she buried her head into him and she took in his dizzying cologne.
She felt him jump beneath her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pressing a dramatic and cheesy kiss to his cheek, feeling his light stubble prick her chapsticked lips. “My hero,” she joked, trying to bring at least a little humor to the man who had just about jumped out of his skin at her touch.
It felt like she was crossing a boundary, and she was pretty sure she was, but she just needed to thank him and a hug felt like the best way to do that while in a semi-crowded coffee shop. Also, playing up that they were madly in love didn’t hurt.
“Jesus Christ,” he breathed, a hand flying over his chest in surprise to feel his racing heartbeat. “You scared the shit out of me.” Once he settled for a moment, his arm moved across his chest to rest on her arm. His touch was gentle and soft, holding her there gently like he didn’t want her to release him from her grasp. She tried not to think about it too much as she slipped her arms off of him, making her way to the seat that was clearly meant for her across from him.
“I’m sorry that I scared you. A little jumpy today?” she teasingly questioned.
“Hey, watch it,” he playfully threatened. “I believe you called me your hero about thirty seconds ago.”
“I guess I did,” she quipped over the mug she was bringing to her lips. It was sweet but not too sweet, with cream but not too much, and still piping hot; just the way she liked it. “I don’t think it’s too far off,” she smiled before turning back to the coffee. “Good coffee,” she mused. “Just the way I like it.”
“Good. I texted Jeff for your order,” he informed her, the gesture being so thoughtful and sweet she could have melted into a puddle right there and then. “And I think ‘hero’ might be a bit much,” he tacked on.
“Don’t be humble, Harry.” While her voice was still light and held a jesting tone, she meant her words. “You made the entire internet leave me alone, for the most part,” she clarified as there were definitely some nasty messages still floating around Twitter, “in five words.”
“It was the least I could do,” he said while shaking his head slightly, seeming to deflect her words.
“You could have done absolutely nothing.” She reached across the table and grabbed his hand in hers like they had staged at the cafe a few days earlier; but this time, it was an honest gesture, not one for a role they were both meant to be playing. Her words were serious, punctuating each with a gentle nod of her head. “I mean it. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.” His eyes held the same truthfulness and honesty she hoped she was mirroring in her own. “I know all of this,” he paused and gestured between them with his free hand, “is for publicity, but I consider you a friend. It was hard to watch it all go down like that. You’re a good person and you didn’t deserve all that. I had to do something.”
There was a warmth that flooded her chest. He called me his friend, she thought to herself, fighting back a big toothy grin. She had been under the impression that all of this was just work for him, something he was doing just to drum up publicity, with no personal connections at all. But him calling her a friend meant so much to her. It meant she was not alone in all this terrifying and overwhelming attention.
“I’m glad you think of me as a friend,” she said, still holding back her smile. “You’re my friend too.” He matched her close-lipped smile that had fought its way onto her face at her words.
They sat in silence together for a few moments. Harry returned to his book and Y/N answered emails; but their hands stayed connected across the small table. This silence was very different from the silence on the day they first met. It wasn’t an uncomfortable silence that sat on your tongue, begging you to break the quiet; it was peaceful and safe.
Their silence was broken when a young woman wearing a jittery smile and nervous eyes approached their table. Her voice squeaked out a mouse-like “Hi,” towards the both of them, bringing their eyes up to meet hers and instinctively breaking their hands away from each other.
“I’m so so sorry to be a bother,” she began, cheeks red and hot. “But I’m a really big fan of both of you and I would never forgive myself if I didn’t say hello.” She rambled excitedly, mostly looking at Harry, as she held her slightly shaky hands up to her chest.
“Hello,” Harry said with one of his million dollar smiles. “What’s your name?”
“I’m Emma,” she breathed.
“Well, it’s so nice to meet you Emma.” He spoke gently with her, clearly sensing her anxiety, extending his hand for her to shake. “Thank you for all of your support.”
Y/N watched closely as he spoke with her. He spoke to her like she was the only person in the room, giving her his whole undivided attention, and repeatedly thanking her as she flooded him with compliments about how his music and message of kindness meant so much to her. She was so entranced that she nearly didn’t hear her own name being said as the girl turned towards her.
“I love your music as well,” she grinned, clearly more comfortable after her short conversation with Harry. “And your jumpsuit is just incredible.” Her nervous giggle was contagious, Y/N releasing one as well at the compliment as her cheeks heated slightly. She was shocked she even knew any of her music, clearly being the less popular of the pair.
“Thank you so much, Emma. It means a lot.”
Emma took a few quick selfies with the both of them (that would be everywhere within a few hours), said goodbye and went to leave the two, but not before she paid them one last compliment. “You two are really cute together. I’m rooting for you.”
Both of their cheeks warmed as they looked back at each other. They were quiet for a moment, unsure how to respond, before Harry turned his attention back to the girl with a coy smile. “I am too,” was all he said.
***
The next three weeks passed in a blur of tour rehearsals, fittings, and public meetings with Harry. And then all of a sudden, it was the night of the first show.
Y/N had never been so nervous in her entire life. She would be the first face seen by just over 19,000 people, tasked to warm up the crowd and prepare them for Harry, which was enough pressure. And then there was the chance that they all hated her guts.
She stood behind the curtain, listening to the loud and inpatient crowd as she paced back and forth. She white-knuckeld her guitar, trying to keep her violently shaking hands from being too visible to the crew around her. Her stomach swirled and her palms were clammy, constantly having to rub them on the pants of her icey blue jumpsuit. It fit her like a glove, the wide legged pants and slight shoulder pads, creating a perfect hourglass silhouette; the only thing she was confident in at the moment was how good she looked in it.
Her heart leapt out of her chest and she almost hit the ceiling when a small voice appeared over her shoulder, whispering “You’re going to do great,” in her ear. If her heart wasn’t about to give out before, it was now. She swung around to face him, almost hitting Harry with her guitar, letting out a small breath of relief when her eyes met his own. They always seemed to calm her down a bit.
“I’m kinda freaking out, H,” she anxiously babbled, using the nickname he had told her to call him. “This is the biggest crowd I’ve ever played in front of, and they probably all hate me because they think I’m dating you, and I have to make sure I do a good job so they start listening to my music; and I just…” she trailed off for a second, uncomfortably scratching the back of her neck, “I just can’t let you down.”
His face softened at her words, seeming to take pity on her. “Y/N,” he began, resting his hands on her shoulders and looking so deep into her eyes she felt like he could probably see her soul. “We picked you to open because people love your music and the way that you perform. You just have to go out there and do what you do best: sing your heart out and put on a good show. It’s only 25 minutes. I know you can do it.”
Every word that left his lips was laced with honesty and encouragement; just enough for Y/N to relax her furrowed brow and give her lip a break from her constant chewing. “I can do it,” she softly repeated back to him, still not breaking contact with his striking green eyes.
A stage manager passed by them, running to some other important task, but not before tapping her shoulder. “You’re on in 30 seconds,” he spoke, just as she heard the roar of the crowd begin, signalling the dimming of the lights in the arena.
“Go kick some ass,” he winked, stepping backwards from her and releasing her from his grasp. “I’ll be watching.”
Walking on stage, she wasn’t met with ‘boo’s that had plagued her nightmares, or mean looks from the audience, or rotten tomatoes thrown from the crowd.
They were screaming in excitement, screaming for her.
From the second she started playing, the crowd had her back; the ones that knew the words to her songs sang them along with her, and the ones that didn’t, happily danced to her voice. Before long, the smile she had forced onto her face was genuine, and her set passed by with ease. When her 25 minutes were up, she wasn’t sure if she wanted to get off the stage.
She took her final bow as the crowd roared, running off of the stage into the wings, looking for one person in particular. And when she found him, she threw herself into Harry’s open and waiting arms. “I told you that you were going to do great!” He spoke excitedly into her ear and he held her close to his body, his arms wrapped around her waist tight.
She liked the way it felt to be in his arms.
Pulling away from him, she saw the massive grin that he wore for her, noting how adorable his dimples were and how the excited look in his eyes made him look like a little kid. But there was more to his face than excitement, he looked proud.
“They were so nice to me, and they knew my songs, and they were screaming so loud for me, and it just went so well. I can’t believe it!” Her previous anxious chatter had become an exhilarated rambling and she felt on top of the world.
“I can,” he grinned, looking down at his watch quickly. “I have to go get changed.” If she wasn’t so amped up, she might have noticed the disappointment that flashed over his features. “Promise me you’ll watch the show?”
“Pinky swear?” She stuck up her little finger in the air.
“Pinky swear.” He kept their pinkies locked for a moment too long, then released her hand and ran backstage to get dressed.
She kept her promise and watched with excitement as the building shook when Harry took the stage.
She had never heard something quite so loud, sure her ears would be ringing when she snuggled into her bunk on the tour bus that night. Watching him perform was mesmerizing; he knew how to work a stage in every way and make every person in the arena feel like he was singing just for them. He was larger than life while performing and his little dances and mannerisms only got more pronounced the more comfortable he got on stage. He messed with Mitch, who she had only met a few hours ago (he was very nice), and constantly praised Sarah on the drums behind him, while he looked over to Adam and sent him smiles often.
Everyone in the building came for a show, and boy, did he give them one. It was amazing to watch. There was a reason she was a fan.
Bouncing off the stage, full of adrenaline and in a post-show high, he came to find her. It wasn’t hard, as she had never left her spot on the side of the stage, unable to rip her eyes away from the man before her.
“Oh my god, Harry! That was incredible!” she said with delighted amazement.
“I’m glad you liked it.” He was smiling down at her with a big toothy grin, a hand running through his sweaty hair and pushing it off his forehead. “They only get better from here.”
***
He was telling the truth. The shows only got crazier and more exciting as the tour went on, and so did their “relationship.”
About five shows in, Jeff had Harry given her his “H” ring to start wearing. Harry didn’t seem too phased by it all even though she thought it might be too much, saying “it’s like a friendship bracelet.” But it was too big for her fingers, not because she had small hands, but because Harry’s were absolutely massive. She wore it on a chain around her neck from then on and made sure to always be seen playing with it.
Fans took notice and loved it.
A little after that, Jeff sent them off to get matching manicures. Both had a melting rainbow of oranges, pinks, and browns on their fingertips, which looked amazing in the paparazzi photos of them walking around with their fingers intertwined.
The fans loved that too.
But when she “accidentally” posted a photo of Harry on her story, the entire world lost it’s shit. In the photo, he laid sprawled across a bed in only a white hotel robe that was creeping dangerously high up his thigh. He looked sleepy and slightly sweaty, in a post-fuck haze, and clothes that looked very similar to ones she had been seen wearing in public only days before were strewn across the floor. The caption read “I love getting to love you.”
The photo had strategically only been up for about 30 seconds, but by the time it was deleted thousands of people had seen it and screenshots had been taken. They quickly circulated the internet, creating a bit of scandal. But more than anything, people began to love the two of them together even more. Harry looked genuinely happy in the photo, and for most of his fans, that was all that mattered.
They were creating a fairytale love story for an audience, but she would be lying if she said she wasn’t enjoying her role. She quite liked being his “girlfriend.”
Harry and Y/N had a way of clicking as they grew closer–quite literally as they were crammed together on a tour bus most of the time. They seemed to be able to finish each other’s sentences and always beat the other to the punchline of a joke. The pair had begun to pick up on the other’s mannerisms and habits; Y/N always teasing that Harry was going to rub his nose off one day if he kept rubbing it while he was thinking and Harry always knowing when she got enough sleep by whether or not she had put on eyeliner that morning. They swapped playlists back and forth in their bunks as they tried to doze off and always grabbed a cup of coffee for whoever had decided to sleep in the next day, now knowing the other’s order by heart.
There was only one thing she didn’t know about him that she longed to discover: what his lips felt like against her own. She could never think too hard about it though, or she may just explode.
He had become a calming presence and was currently helping her keep her cool, even though she knew the pair of interviewers across the table were getting ready to grill the pair for every detail they could get. His hand had settled on top of her knee to quell it’s nervous bouncing, but remained after she had stopped, even though no one could see his touch under the table. She watched as his thumb ran itself back and forth along the leg of her flashy orange and yellow patterned overalls and she had a hard time pulling her gaze away when the radio host across the large table began to speak.
“So Harry,” the bald man began. “Fine Line has been one of the biggest albums of the year and I just have to say I love it. It’s truly incredible.” She listened as the man continued on to sing Harry’s praises, going on to list his grammy nominations, sold out world tour, and other accolades. She couldn’t help but smile as she watched his cheeks tinge pink with the praise. She knew anyone watching would pick up on her adoring look and people fawn over it, but she knew her gaze was nothing but truthful.
“Thank you very much,” he said shyly, shaking his head slightly as he spoke into the microphone suspended in front of his face. “You’re too kind.”
“Stop being humble,” she teased him, playfully tapping him on the arm. “All of his music is fantastic,” she said turning her attention back to the man across from them, “especially Fine Line.”
“And there’s Y/N, being the supportive girlfriend,” the man chuckled.
“I support him in everything he does,” she smiled back, not having to embellish the truth at all. “He is an amazing talent and I think Fine Line shows that.”
It wasn’t hard for her to gush about him. It was actually quite easy. She absolutely adored him, as an artist, a friend, and the focus of her affection. She felt an equal warmth in her cheeks as she watched his get even pinker with her compliments.
“That’s actually something we wanted to ask you about,” the blonde woman sitting next to him piped up, a mischievous glint in her eyes that sent nervous butterflies flying around Y/N’s stomach. “One of the songs on Fine Line, Cherry to be specific, actually features the voice of Harry’s ex, Camille. How does that make you feel as his new girl?”
Y/N did her best not to gag at the woman’s question, gritting her teeth as she plastered on a polite smile. “Well, I think Cherry is a really great song and her voice at the end adds a lot,” she spoke as smoothly as she could, refusing to let on that the question rattled her. Harry’s light squeeze on her knee signalled to her that she had answered the question well.
“It’s also been three years since the song was written,” Harry cut in. “Things are obviously a lot different now.” He connected their eyes for a second while he was leaning back into his seat, sending her a short smile, but she knew him well enough to know it was genuine.
“Oh, definitely,” the woman eagerly agreed. “You’re in a great new relationship with a beautiful girl on your arm.”
“Y/N,” he emphasized her name as the woman had referred to her as a possession of his for a second time, “and I are very happy. Thank you.” To an onlooker, he was calm. To her, he was visibly uncomfortable by her words.
Y/N began to notice a clear pattern as the interview went on. Harry was asked exclusively about his music and the tour, while Y/N only became relevant to their interviewers when they wanted to mention their relationship.
When the man asked Y/N if she felt uncomfortable playing to Harry’s mainly female fanbase every night that are “so obviously jealous of her,” something snapped inside of her, sending all her hours of media training out the window.
“I’m not uncomfortable at all,” she said curtly. “His music is great and he puts on an awesome show. I don’t think the audience’s gender really has anything to do with the music.” She watched the man’s face fall before she decided to go on. “And I would like to think that at least a few of them are there for me too. You do know I make music too, right?”
An indignant smirk found its way to her lips as the man stammered out, “yes, of course.”
“Okay. I was just wondering since you have only asked me questions about our relationship since we got here.”
She knew Jeff wouldn’t be happy, but at the moment, she couldn’t care less. They may not have really been dating, but the interviewers didn’t know that. All of their dismissal of her and her career was 100% real.
She had been so worked up that she didn’t even realize Harry’s hand had left her knee until it found its way to rest on her back. She leaned into his touch as he rubbed her back softly while she crossed her arms in front of her.
The interviewers looked at the two of them across the table, jaws both lying on the floor. It was quiet until Harry nonchalantly spoke. “She has a point.”
The last few minutes of the interview passed in an awkward blur that felt suffocating. She felt like she could finally take in a deep breath once they were in the back of a massive SUV being driven away from the studio.
“Jeff is going to have my head,” she mumbled under her breath, nose stuck into her phone as she scrolled Twitter to see what people were saying about her outburst. But before she could read any opinions, Harry's tattooed arm blocked her view as he gently pushed her phone down onto her lap.
“Look at me,” he murmured, beckoning her attention to the other side of the back seat. When she connected her eyes with his, his usual calming aura took over her, softening the stressed crease between her brows. “It’s going to be okay.”
“Harry, I just blew my career up into smoke because I couldn’t deal with a rude interviewer,” she huffed at him.
“No,” he disagreed softly, moving the hand that rested on her arms to interlock his fingers with one of hers. “You stuck up for yourself to people who were ignoring your work and whittling you down to your relationship.”
“But it was rude.”
“It was necessary.”
The car ride to the venue for that night’s concert was quiet, but Harry never let go of her hand, brushing his thumb over her knuckles in a comforting touch. She wasn’t sure if she ever wanted him to let go.
***
It was the early hours of the morning by the time the pair returned to their tour bus and went to crawl into their bunks.
Her performance had gone well and Harry was mesmerizing (as always). He was truly hypnotizing to watch while he performed and she hadn’t missed watching him yet, even as they drew close to the end of the tour. It was the best part of her day and she would miss it dearly after the last show.
She was almost asleep, curtain drawn and cuddled under a pile of blankets, when her cell began to ring. Her heart sank, knowing only one person who would know when she had a sliver of free time (even though it’s debatable if sleeping counts as free time). She was going to get scolded like she was a little kid in the principal's office and she knew it.
“Hi Jeff,” she answered with a sigh as she pulled the curtain back and slid from the bunk, the cold air of the tour bus nipping at her legs.
Her gaze was met by a snuggled up Harry wearing a concerned face across from her in his own bed. He never closed the curtain, not even when she asked politely to muffle his snores, always saying something about how it made him claustrophobic. He sent her a tired smile and mouthed “good luck,” extending a hand for a fist bump as she passed. Knocking their knuckles together put a brief smile on her face before she buckled in for the chewing out she was about to get.
Harry watched her intently as she paced up and down the front of the tour bus as she spoke to Jeff, too far away for him to listen in. Her face gradually turned from anxious, to surprised, to something that would have probably been happiness if she wasn’t so tired.
“Alright, thank you for everything.” She spoke softly when she finally returned to be within earshot for him. “Goodnight Jeff.”
“So?” he murmured groggily at her, brows raised in question at her.
“People loved it,” she said shocked, like she didn’t fully believe it herself. “They think I’m some kind of badass for shutting down a sexist. Which is, like, a lot,” she spoke with a disbelieving chuckle, unable to find the right words in her groggy state. “I don’t really know what to make of it.”
Harry seemed to spring up from his spot in his bed, smacking his head on the top of the bunk in the process, prompting them both to dissolve into a puddle of giggles.
“Don’t get too excited for me,” she laughed. “I cannot be the reason that you hurt yourself and have to cancel a show.”
“I was just too excited to say ‘I told you so,’” he smirked, now rubbing the side of his head through his curls.
“Cocky bastard,” she sarcastically murmured under her breath while dramatically rolling her eyes.
She watched with confusion as Harry left his bed, and after a short and frantic search for his pajama pants so he wouldn’t “offend her eyes,” he moved towards the front of the bus. Her eyes trailed him as he bent down to the small mini fridge and pulled out two beers.
“We have to celebrate.”
It was 2 AM and she had been so ready for bed after a long day. But she knew she could never say no to him. She thanked god that they had a day off tomorrow.
After retrieving her massive and lovingly worn Grateful Dead sweatshirt to protect her from the chilly air, she nearly ran to the front of the bus. His painted pink fingers moved with skill as he popped the bottle caps off with one of his rings, handing it to her and gently nudging his bottle against hers.
“Cheers,” he murmured softly as he looked down at her with a kindhearted smile.
“Cheers,” she seemed to whisper back to him, a flutter in her stomach reminding her how badly she wanted to reach out and connect her lips to his. Instead she slid into the small booth across from him, taking a long sip from the bottle as she watched him do the same.
“I want you to know that I was really proud of you today,” he said as he put his beer down on the table. “Rude interviewers are never easy and you handled it like a champ.”
“Thank you, H,” she nodded, suddenly bashful and unable to make eye contact with him. Her cheeks burned hot as she put all her focus into tracing the rim of the bottle with her finger tip.
“Hey,” he called for her attention and her eyes snapped up to meet his. “I mean it, Y/N.”
“I know you do,” she gently nodded at him. “I’m just really happy they didn’t ask about my ex,” she chuckled as she took another sip. “That would have gone very poorly.”
“Oh yeah, I was a little annoyed they brought up my ex but not yours,” he teased. “Not fair if you ask me.”
“Well, then I’m glad no one asked you.”
“Can I ask you?”
“What?”
“About your ex.”
She should have been prepared to talk about it with Harry at some point. Half of this plan had been devised to get back at James anyway. She should be able to talk about it by now, especially with someone she had grown so close to.
“I guess so,” she shrugged, trying to seem casual like the mere mention of him didn’t still hurt her heart a little bit. “What do you want to know?”
“As much as you’re willing to tell me.”
He looked soft like this, eyes slightly sleepy with a tenderness in them as he looked back at her. His hair was unruly and puffy and he was wrapped in the powder blue blanket that lived on the tour bus’ couch. She would have told him anything that he ever wanted to hear if he kept looking like this.
With a deep breath, she began to recount everything that went down.
“I met James while I was still working as a waitress. I recognized him from his movies and started a conversation, and then–to my surprise–he asked me out on a date. I had been in LA for three weeks and this insanely famous actor is asking me to go out with him, so I obviously said yes.” She paused to take a swig of her beer, before mumbling under her breath, “I should have said ‘fuck no’ to that.”
A smile ghosted over her lips as she listened to Harry’s laugh across the table. She swore that laugh could cure cancer.
“But I didn’t,” she continued. “He introduced me to the right people and helped me make the right connections in the industry, which I guess made me feel indebted to him. Does that make sense?”
“Of course,” Harry nodded, eyebrows furrowed and listening intently.
“I should have broken up with him after I signed with Jeff and the label, however awful that sounds. But he just always knew the right things to say to make me feel special and like I was the most important person in the world. Even after I found out he was talking to other girls, he was somehow able to talk himself out of it.” She shook her head as she recalled it. “You wanna hear something fucked up?”
“Always,” he said with a gentle smirk.
“He proposed to me using lines from a romcom he was working on.”
Harry nearly spit out his drink. “Holy shit, you’re kidding!”
“I wish. I didn’t find out until I went with him to the premier a few months later and the proposal scene sounded surprisingly familiar.”
“What a dirtbag.”
“I know, right?” she laughed. “Then a few weeks after that, he got papped with his tongue down another girl’s throat. That finally knocked some sense into me and I ran for the hills.”
“Fuck,” he sighed as he finished his beer. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s okay,” she breathed. “I don’t even feel hurt by him anymore, ya know? I just feel angry at myself for trusting him.”
“I understand but it’s not your fault he was a piece of shit,” he said as he rose from his seat and traveled to the mini fridge once again. “Another?” he asked, holding the bottle up about his head.
“Fuck it,” she shrugged. “Sure.”
She watched him skillfully pop off the tops again using just his rings, making a mental note to make him teach her how he did that, before he flopped back down in his seat.
“At the risk of sounding like a Facebook mom, ‘you grow through what you go through,’” she chuckled, taking another long sip as she finished her first. He matched her high pitched giggle across the table and she nearly drooled beer down her front from smiling so wide.
“Amen, sister,” he agreed, raising his beer in the air.
“Oh, that was awful.” She shook her head as she descended into giggles. “Please never say that again.”
“Noted.”
“Anyway,” she began again after another sip of her drink, “I was well prepared to get my heartbroken by untrustworthy men after you, Styles.”
“I’m offended–tell me more,” he spoke quickly, his signature narcissistic smirk settling onto his features.
“I need you to know that Zayn leaving was my first real heartbreak.”
“Were the rest of us chopped liver?”
“You weren’t Zayn, I can tell you that.”
“Ouch!” He let out a loud belly laugh.
“Put yourself in my shoes for a minute, H. So first, the hottest-”
“Rude-”
“-I’m speaking. So the hottest one leaves, and then the rest of you are all like ‘we’ll be back in 18 months,’” she mocked him in a high pitched impersonation with a wave, “and then 6 months later you all mysteriously have solo careers.”
“I do not see you complaining about my solo career now, ya fame leetch.” He spoke with such humor and charisma, she couldn’t have even wished to be offended by his joke.
“Absolutely not, sir,” she said sternly, giving him a dramatic salute. “Deepest apologies from the fame leetch.” The two collapsed into giggles, laughing until their sides began to ache.
“Wait, I have a question for mega superstar Mr. Harry Styles of former One Direction fame,” she announced.
“I believe that’s me,” he bowed his head and raised his hand into the hair. “Shoot.”
She barely could get the question out, laughing too hard at her own joke. “Is Taylor Swift a good kisser?”
“Oh god,” he exasperatedly threw his hands in the air, chuckling while rolling his eyes dramatically before grinning wide as he thought over his answer. “I don’t kiss and tell,” he finally smirked.
“Wait, I have another!”
“Watch it, smart ass.”
“You think I’m smart?” she teased as she feigned flattery. “Have you ever heard of a song called ‘English Love Affair?’” He narrowed his eyes at her, a knowing smirk crossing his lips as he shook his head at her. “Also, when do I get to meet Gemma?”
“I’ll consider it when you stop bringing up her sex life, perv.”
“We’ve been dating for a few months now,” she teased as she continued to prod, emboldened by the liquid courage running through her veins as she was now half way through her next beer. “I think I should be allowed to meet the family soon. They seem delightful.”
“They would love how you have decided to rip into me like this,” he said with a cheeky smile, dimples on full display.
“Rockstars have to get knocked down a peg every once in a while.” She sarcastically shrugged. “Consider it a favor.”
She couldn’t help but think about how right this felt. Their back and forth flowed so smoothly, the banter falling from their lips without effort. Their laughter joined together in a delightful melody and she imagined they could go on this way all night.
Spending any amount of time with him made her so fucking happy; and time spent teasing each other over beers caused her to nearly explode with joy. How much she was enjoying herself was too hard to put into words.
He was safe and he was kind and he made her laugh no matter how bad his jokes were.
He was her best friend.
And for the first time, she was willing to admit that she was in love with him.
“Harry,” she hummed softly as their laughter died down to a comfortable silence. “Thank you for everything. You’ve changed my life forever and I can never repay you.”
“Just remember me when you get famous.”
“Oh shut up, I’m being serious,” she playfully scolded before letting her tone drop back into honesty. “You’re a very good person and I’m eternally grateful for you letting me be your opening act and then agreeing to this whole relationship charade.”
“I didn’t ‘let’ you be anything, Y/N. I picked you myself.”
Her brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean?”
“I listened to your album when it came out and fell in love with it,” he shrugged, his casual tone contradicting the surprised raise of her pulse. “When I found out Jeff also managed you, I knew I had to have you on the tour.”
Y/N was honestly stunned. She had always assumed that the tour was Jeff’s doing, a careful arrangement pairing Full Stop’s new up-and-comer with their most famous and established talent. Being offered the tour had been the biggest opportunity and honor she had ever been presented with; but she had never considered Harry himself being behind it.
“Oh,” was all she could manage to get out.
It was now his turn to be confused. “What’s so surprising about that?” he asked, reading the shock on her face like she was an open book.
“I just,” she stammered, trying to find the words in her slightly hazy state. “I never would have thought you knew who I was or listened to my music.”
“Why not?”
“I don’t know,” she trailed off. “You’re you, and I’m just... me, I guess.”
He didn’t respond right away, just looking at her intently and slightly amused, sea glass eyes boring into her with a pink lip held between his teeth.
He scanned her frame, from the way her hair sat messily on top of her head and the way the massive sweatshirt swallowed her body enough to where she had pulled her knees up to her chest underneath it. Her shoulders were slumped slightly, making her appear smaller as she held her legs close to her torso and her eyebrows were knitted together in worry, slightly nervous under his intense gaze.
She downed the rest of her beer in an attempt to forget his intense attention. It didn’t work.
“You really don’t know how incredible you are, do you?” he finally asked, the corner of his lips twitching into a small smile.
She felt her whole body burn with his compliment, wanting to shrink into herself and disappear completely from his view. She finally shook her head slightly in an attempt to deflect his words, breathing his name under her breath as if to scold him for being too kind.
“You are,” he insisted, ignoring her objection. “You’re so talented and your music deserves all the attention that it gets. I am honored that I get to play a part in helping expose the world to you and what you have to offer.”
“Thank you.” Her words came out as a whisper.
“You’re welcome, love.”
His pet name made her stomach turn in a nervous excitement and a wide grin involuntarily came to her lips.
“I like it when I make you smile like that.” His words only made her beam further. “You look very pretty when you smile.”
“Stop it,” she said softly, cheeks burning hot and having a hard time making eye contact with him.
“Stop what?” He feigned innocence as he lightly teased her, smirk still prominent on his features.
“Are you flirting with me, Styles?”
“Just practicing.”
His words rang through her mind long after they had left the table and crawled back into their bunks for the night. She wished she could see inside his head to understand whatever thoughts were running around his brain.
But for now she could just peak at him through the gap she had purposely left in her curtain, wondering if she ever popped into his dreams as he slept.
He was always in hers.
***
There was a sadness mixed in with her usually thrilled mood as she took the stage for the last show of the tour. While there was an element of relief as she looked forward to some well needed rest, the adrenaline and joy of being in front of a crowd was something that she would miss dearly. She had grown into a real performer over the last two months as they zig-zagged across the US and this period of time would have a special place in her heart long after it had ended.
But there was another reason why she was so sad to see this chapter come to an end. As far as she knew, a staged breakup was not far away and the thought of being without Harry was heartbreaking. He had become her person and soon their feux falling out would be on the front page of every magazine. She wanted nothing more in the world than for their relationship to be real, but it would be forced to end before it had even truely started.
She got choked up as she sang her final song that night, letting a few tears escape as she took in the thousands of people singing her lyrics back to her, flashlights swaying in the air to the beat of the music. Taking a move from Harry’s own playbook, she took her mic and directed it to the crowd to sing as she cried. The vibrations of the drums and bass behind her nestled it’s way into her bones and the chorus of singing voices in the crowd surrounded her in a bittersweet melody.
The past two months she had been on top of the world, and as soon as this song finished, it was the beginning of the end.
She took her final bow, watching as the small tears fell forward onto the dusty stage below her. She waved and blew kisses to the crowd, then nearly ran off the stage looking for the only person she wanted to see.
Harry was right where he always was, just out of view behind the curtain, holding his arms out for her to fall into.
“Awe, babe,” he hummed sympathetically when she settled her head onto his chest, surely ruining his crisp white t-shirt with her now wet makeup. “It’s okay. Final shows are always tough.” He rubbed her back gently, in a soothing rhythm.
He smelled so good. He smelled like home.
She tilted her head up to connect her glassy eyes with his. “I just don’t want this all to end.” She knew she wasn’t just talking about the tour.
“Neither do I,” he said as his lips curved into a devilish smirk that sent her heart into palpitations. “That’s why I have one last surprise for you.”
“Oh, Harry,” she sighed while wiping the remaining tears off her cheeks. “What have you done?”
“You said you liked surprises!” he defended.
“Not surprises in front of 20,000 people!”
“I promise you’re going to love this one, okay?” His voice was softer now, encouraging and supportive. “You’re going to come out and sing an extra song with me during my set,” he revealed.
“Sing what?”
“That’s the surprise.”
“Do I even know the words?”
“You definitely know the words,” he chuckled.
“I just finished sobbing. I can’t go out there like this.”
“You can fix your makeup. I believe in you.”
“What am I going to wear?” she asked, grasping at straws at this point, doing anything she could to get out of this.
“I had Lambert put something together for you.”
“Of course you did.”
She peppered him with a few more questions, but he had a smooth and charming answer to every single one. He had thought every detail out, and as always, she couldn’t say no to him.
“Fine,” she finally exasperatedly agreed, immediately met with his excited and dimpled smile that she had fallen head over heels for.
“Perfect,” he breathed. “I have to go get ready and so do you. I already put everything you need in your dressing room, okay?” She nodded, still biting her lip anxiously. He held her by her shoulders, lowering his head to match their eye level as he leaned in close, before he spoke. “You’re going to have fun. I promise.”
“Pinky swear?”
“Pinky swear.”
Seconds after they locked their little fingers together, he pressed a quick and protective kiss to her forehead that set her whole body ablaze before running off in the direction of his dressing room. She remained stunned and frozen in her spot for a few moments trying to process what it felt like to have his lips on her for the first time since that very first day they had met.
There was no audience to perform it for or an act to keep up behind the curtain. He kissed her because he wanted to.
She was finally snapped out of her daze when a stagehand bumped into her by accident, prompting her to begin the short walk back to her dressing room. But the ghost of his lips remained on her forehead, an incessant tingle placed there by his touch.
The dress she found waiting for her was one of the most beautiful gowns she had ever set her eyes on. Made of a light purple chiffon, the wrap dress’ long sleeves and floor length skirt flowed freely. A belt cinched the wispy fabric close to her waist and a deep-v exposed her neck and chest. But the most dazzling part of the dress were the red sequined hearts that dotted the fabric and reflected the light of the dressing room like a million little mirrors.
Slipping into it, the light fabric was soft against her skin, opaque enough but still slightly sheer to let light through and show off her legs and the bright red shiny pumps Lambert had left for her. She felt the most beautiful she had ever felt in this dress, boosting her confidence and quelling her nerves about whatever the hell Harry was planning.
“One minute to curtain,” was announced in an ominous voice over the arena’s backstage speakers as she finished fixing her makeup and she all but ran to make it back to the stage in time. She only had one more chance to watch him perform and she refused to miss a second of it.
Harry dazzled as the lights focused in on him, his deep blue and fully sequined suit reflecting the light and turning him into a human disco ball. He stood close to the edge of the stage as the beginning notes of the first song began being played by the band, but he made no move towards his mic stand to sing. His eyes were closed and his arms were outstretched to the audience, taking in every scream, every tear, and the thunderous shake of the building; but also giving himself to them.
Then the show began. As usual, he was electric, but tonight was like he had turned himself up to eleven. Every note he sang was full of his heart and every dance move was done with his entire body, even his bad jokes seemed funnier tonight.
She was so mesmerized she almost forgot about his ‘surprise.’ Almost.
“Since tonight is unfortunately our last show,” he pouted. “I thought I would do something special,” he spoke to the crowd as they roared, but quickly connected his eyes with her’s in the wings. By the smirk plastered on his face, she knew she was in for it.
“I recently found out that someone very close to me was a very big fan of…” he trailed off as he dramatically pretended to search for the right words, “my previous work.” He finished with a smirk and his words prompted the loudest reaction since he had been on stage.
“Now, I told her that she would be coming on stage to join me tonight, but I didn’t exactly tell her what we would be singing and I haven’t performed this song in a very long time, so cut us some slack if we mess up. This is very unrehearsed.” He kept sneaking glances back to her, as her eyes grew wider at the stunt he was currently pulling. “But I know for a fact that she knows all the words. I listen to her sing them in the shower quite often.” He wore a cheeky dimpled grin as he looked back at her once again.
The building was shaking due to the suspense he was creating, and looking down at her hands, she realized she was to. She gripped hard onto the mic a stagehand had just shoved at her, pleading with her hands to stop their tremors.
“Now, I would love it if you could all give another warm welcome to one of my favorite people on the planet, Y/N Y/L/N!” He turned his body to her for a final time, extending his hand out for her to take. Her legs felt like jello as she walked out into the bright lights towards him, interlocking her fingers with his as a way to keep her on her feet.
The audience’s screams were deafening at seeing the two of them together and she thanked god she had her earpieces in to protect her ear drums or they would have surely burst. She could only imagine the articles that would be written about this and the thousands of tweets that were probably already being sent.
“I’m gonna kick your ass,” she mouthed at him threateningly, but she couldn’t even get through the sentence before his dazzling smile began to quell her anxiety.
“The look on your face is 100% worth getting my ass kicked,” he answered smoothly before turning his attention back to the audience. “Everyone, sing along if you know the words,” he commanded their attention. “This is Ready to Run.”
Her jaw dropped and the crowd roared as the band behind her began to play the first few chords of the song she loved and knew so well. She had admitted it a few days ago that it was one of her favorites of his ‘previous work,’ but apparently he already knew that from the few showers she had taken on the tour bus.
“There’s a lightning in your eyes I can’t deny,” he began by himself, her brain still too shocked to jump in yet. He sang the first few lines to her with a giant grin plastered on his face, hand still holding tight to hers. His eyes had a playful glint in them that seemed to say ‘just have fun.’
“There’s a devil in your smile, it’s chasing me,” she finally began to sing, Harry fading his voice out so she could take the next few lines by herself as he admired her.
He did have a devilish smile, but it was one she loved with her entire heart. As she began to sing, she felt her muscles begin to relax into the song she had sung to herself so many times before, letting her body begin to bounce to the growing rhythm as her dress flowed around her.
The stage vibrated as Sarah beat her drums to introduce the chorus. “This time I’m ready to run, escape from the city and follow the sun,” the pair sang together, eyes still locked as their voices combined into the most perfect tune. “Cause I wanna be yours, don’t you wanna be mine?” they continued the lyrics. She felt herself meaning the words leaving her mouth more and more as they went on. She did want to be his, she couldn’t deny that. “I don’t wanna get lost in the dark of the night.”
Her apprehensiveness eased further as the music picked up and the hook went on, finally allowing herself to have a bit of fun. “Wherever you are is the place I belong,” they insisted towards each other, leaning in close before Harry grabbed her hand to dramatically spin her, the beautiful shining fabric of her dress splaying out around her. The next line was mumbled through giggles by both of them, but their laughter only added to the perfect moment they were having.
They danced across the stage together like there weren’t 20,ooo pairs of eyes watching them, both singing their hearts out to each other. It began to feel like they weren’t even there. It was just Y/N and Harry, serenading each other to one of her favorite songs.
“There’s a future in my eyes I can’t foresee,” she sang to him to start the second verse.
“Unless, of course, I stay on course and keep you next to me.” Harry grabbed her by her waist and pulled her into his side as he sang the words, prompting more giggles from her. She loved the way he smiled so wide as he sang, never breaking his eye contact with her and emitting pure joy. His eyes looked honest as he sang, like he meant every word just as much as she did.
The pair made their way through the rest of the verse and second chorus, flawlessly moving around the stage like they owned it. Y/N selfishly decided to let him have the bridge all to himself, needing to hear the way his beautiful voice hit the high notes. “This time I’m ready to run,” he sang passionately, executing the downward moving riff perfectly. “I’d give everything that I got for your love,” he pointed across the stage towards her, beckoning her back close to him. She quickly skipped to him at his request.
Like she had blinked, the song was already nearing its end.
“Cause I wanna be free and I wanna be young, I’ll never look back now I’m ready to run,” they belted the last lines out to each other. The band fell quiet on their last chord and the crowd exploded, but their noise fell on deaf ears as the pair stood so close their heaving chests were almost pressed up against each other. His eyes stared down into hers and she watched as his eyes flickered quickly down to her lips.
The world ceased to exist when he pressed his mouth to hers, even if it only lasted a second. It was nothing more than a peck, but it was everything to her. Her body igniting with heat and eyes full of shock, she looked back at him in simultaneous confusion and adoration, before realizing they had been staring at each other for too long. She needed to get off the stage so he could continue with his show. She walked back slowly towards the wings, letting the hand he had still been holding fall to her side. She waved and smiled to the crowd the best she could in her clouded mind.
“Thank you everyone!” she shouted into her mic as she moved out of their view. She shoved her mic into the first set of hands that would take it as she wobbled her way over to a table with water bottles. She nearly choked as she tried to suck one down, hoping it would ease the dizzy feeling he had created with his lips. Her lips burned just as her forehead had earlier in the night.
He had kissed her. He had sang a love song with her and then he had kissed her. She couldn’t decipher if that kiss was a confirmation that he shared the same feelings for her or if it was just another act for the cameras. But his mouth felt so right against hers. They fit together like a pair of puzzle pieces. She tried to suppress the optimistic hope that rose in her chest, but it began to swallow her whole.
When she heard his next song begin, she made her way back to the spot that had become hers at the side of the stage. She watched him perform the rest of the show in a loving haze, doe eyed and hypnotized, lips still buzzing from his contact.
He gave it his all. By the last song he was out of breath, drenched in sweat, and looked like he was about to pass out at any second. The crowd applauded for minutes after he left the stage and they were still cheering when she finally caught sight of him again. His curls were stuck to his forehead and his skin was shiny and flushed. He was panting, still trying to recover from his workout of a finale show; but he was beaming. His smile seemed to turn him into a beacon, emitting a light and positive energy that drew everyone backstage towards him.
She was so transfixed on Harry as he thanked the crew and accepted congratulations from all around that she just about jumped out of her skin when Jeff slinked up behind her and whispered ‘boo’ in her ear.
“What the fuck, Jeff,” she chuckled as she caught her breath, resting her hand on her chest and feeling her racing heartbeat.
“I just wanted to congratulate you on being half of the best fake couple out there,” he teased. “That kiss was perfect. People are losing their minds over it.”
“Oh,” she said softly, feeling every emotion she was distracted from while watching Harry rush back into her. Her heart sank as she remembered all the questions that continued to haunt her since she got off stage. “Thanks,” she murmured, plastering a smile onto her face. “I’m glad we could make you proud.”
“If you two could convince me, you can convince anyone.” Jeff walked off moments later, leaving her to sit in her confused thoughts as he disappeared into the hoards of bodies waiting for their minute with Harry.
She knew that she didn’t ‘convince’ Jeff of anything on her part. Everything she did with Harry was authentic and truthful. Including the thrilled grin that appeared on her face when she finally made eye contact with the exhausted man across the room. She gave him a shy wave that he sheepishly returned, biting back a shy smile. He pointed in the direction of his dressing room and mouthed “meet me in 15.”
She could never say no to him.
Fifteen minutes later, she was knocking on the large wooden door that had a single piece of paper that read STYLES haphazardly taped onto it. When it finally flew open, she was met by a soaking wet Harry with a towel hanging dangerously low on his hips. Her eyes trailed down his body without permission, taking in the toned torso that was decorated with his beautiful tattoos. Her eyes hovered over the two ferns that sat on his pelvis, too fascinated with the dark ink to pull her eyes away just yet.
She had obviously seen him in various states of undress before. They lived together on a tour bus without much space to exist with privacy, but this was different. He wasn’t rushing to get dressed or quickly changing his outfit. And he wasn’t moving away from her gaze at all.
If she hadn’t been so entranced by him, she would have noticed he was looking her up and down in the exact same manner.
She had changed since she had seen him last. The skin-tight black velvet romper she had brought along for the afterparty now fit her snuggly and held her every curve. The dark fabric was tight and appeared almost painted on, a rainbow racing stripe making its way down either side of her chest. The short shorts of the outfit exposed nearly all of her legs and the deep neckline put much of her chest on display as well. It’s long sleeves were her favorite part, as a strip of fringe dangled from below her arms any time she moved.
“You look great,” Harry finally choked out, his voice pulling their eyes back up to the other’s face.
“Oh, thanks,” she said, slightly awkwardly. “You too.”
“Well, I’m hopefully not going to the after party dressed like this,” he chuckled before stepping aside and ushering her into the room.
His dressing room was much larger than hers and she settled herself on the brown leather couch in the corner as she waited for him to get ready, sneaking glances up from her phone often. She chuckled as she watched him spend far too long fussing with his curls in the mirror, but was quickly distracted by the way his back and arms flexed when he reached up to muse his hair. Once he was satisfied with the way it fell, he disappeared into the bathroom at the back of the room. When he emerged, he was finally dressed, allowing her to take a deep breath and to focus on something other than his bare skin for the first time since he had opened the door.
The black satin suit was simple for him, but the tight white tank top that sat underneath hugged every muscle in his torso. She knew as soon as he got in the hot club, he would lose the jacket, and she would be devastatingly distracted once again.
The narcissist took one final look at himself in the mirror before turning to her and extending a hand. “Ready, darling?”
“You just spent 15 minutes exclusively on your hair and you’re asking me if I’m ready?” she teased as she took his hand, weaving her fingers between his as they exited the room together.
He leaned down close to her ear as they walked down the now mostly empty hallway, lips brushing over the hollow of her ear as he spoke. “I could have done it faster, but you were so obviously enjoying the show.”
“Relax yourself, Magic Mike,” she muttered indignantly, but hung her head in a way she hoped he couldn’t see how flustered he made her. Was she really that obvious?
They walked hand in hand out to the parking garage, now caught in a back and forth about whether or not Harry could be a male stripper. He said yes. She said no, although she did admit at one point that he worked his mic stand like a pole.
“Hey Jeff,” he called when they finally reached the parking garage where Jeff and Glenne had been waiting for them to head to the club. “Do you think I could be a stripper?”
“I think people would pay a lot to see it, but they may be disappointed in your dancing skills.”
“Come on,” he playfully whined. “I have some moves.”
“You have one move,” Y/N cut in with a chuckle, “and it’s the wiggle.” She brought her hands up near her chest, tilted her head back while dramatically biting her lip, and swayed her arms by her sides, earning a chorus of laughter from the people around her.
She hadn’t even realized she had done the move without releasing Harry’s hand first, dragging his arm into her dance as well, until their manager commented on it. “You know, you two don’t have to be holding hands all the time and keeping the show up back here,” he said with a slightly suspicious quirk in his eyebrows.
Her smile had been in the process of fading, like they had been caught doing something wrong, before Harry answered smoothly. “We know. Just practicing.”
There were those words again. Just practicing, she thought over to herself. But was he practicing anymore? How many flirty comments, heartfelt compliments, and warm touches did it take to cross the line of practicing to the real thing?
She wasn’t sure about Harry, but she knew that she wasn’t just practicing anymore.
She knew that the way they sat nearly on top of each other in the large SUV on the way to the club felt more than friendly. And the way he hadn’t stopped touching her in some way since they left his dressing room insinuated far more than something with business-like intentions. And the way he looked at her everytime he caught her eye the entire way to the club, always with a bright smile and adoring gaze that she always returned, pulled at her heartstrings far more than they should have if this was all an act.
A sloppy and cheeky grin settled almost permanently on his features after he had a few drinks in him, his arms moving in a lazy and fluid manner as she took in his many tattoos that he had exposed when he ditched his jacket (just like she knew he would). His butterfly was visible through the tight ribbed fabric of the white tank top and the little birds that peaked out from underneath seemed to be inviting her even closer to him in her now inebriated state.
All she wanted to do was to connect her lips with his as she watched him make conversation with someone from his management, entranced by the way his perfect mouth moved as he spoke. She once again craved the shocks of electricity that were created between them at the contact and could not stop thinking about it no matter how hard she tried. The protective hand that had settled onto her hip and continued to hold her close to his body just wasn’t enough anymore.
The pair had been drinking far too much; martinis turning into vodka sodas that had turned into straight tequila shots. She believed it was tequila shot four that did her in. The last thing she remembered was licking the line of salt off the back of her hand, downing the shot, and being entranced by Harry’s eyes as she bit down on the slice of lime he held carefully with his jeweled fingers.
***
The next morning, Y/N woke up in a hotel room that she didn’t recognize with a pounding headache and a swirling gut. It felt like she had been hit with a truck and she could barely pick her head up off the pillow.
She had so many questions about what had happened the night before. Where was she? Who let her drink that much? Whose clothes was she wearing? But most of all, what the hell happened after that fourth shot?
But she realized the worst was yet to come when she heard soft snoring coming from beside her. She knew that snoring well. It was the snoring that kept her up half the night for the last two months and the one that had almost driven her to suffocating her bus-mate in his sleep; the snoring that matched the crumbled black suit she just noticed in a ball on the floor.
It took every ounce of strength in her body to pull herself from the pillow and turn around in the bed to have her suspicions confirmed.
There he was.
His dark long eyelashes were fluttered down across the tops of his cheeks and his hair was going in every direction, skin clammy like his body was trying to rid itself of all the poison he had ingested the night before. The crumpled comforter was pushed down his stomach, his bare skin holding a sheen that helped define every dip or curve of his muscles and the tiniest bit of the band of his boxers peaked out to assure her that he at least wasn’t fully naked next to her.
Why were they in bed together? And why did he look so good? Oh my god, she thought as a possibility dawned on her. Did we sleep together?
“Harry,” she murmured softer than she intended, voice scratchy and mouth dry. The soreness at the back of her throat clued her into the copious amounts of screaming she must have done last night. He didn’t stir at her gentle coaxing, the light streaming through the windows making him look angelic as it covered him in a blanket of soft light while he continued to sleep.
It was a hard nudge to his chest that finally made him open his eyes, immediately releasing a groan she was sure she made when she regained consciousness too. He looked at her puzzled, still rubbing sleep out of his eyes as he propped himself up on his elbows. He took an equally confused look around the hotel room before looking back at her. She watched as the gears slowly turned in his head until his eyes opened wide and he spring up into a sitting position to mirror hers.
“We didn’t,” he whispered hopefully. “Oh my god, did we?” he asked, a look of horror crossing his face that matched her own.
“I have no idea,” she anxiously replied. “I was hoping you would know!”
“You don’t remember anything?”
“The last thing I remember was doing tequila shots with you.”
“I remember those.” He rubbed his eyes hard like it would somehow jog his memory. His eyebrows knit together, buried in thought as he searched his brain for a timeline. “I can follow the night up until we did karaoke.”
“We did karaoke?” she repeated incredulously and was met with a somber nod. “Do I even want to know what we sang?”
He shook his head slowly, shame clear on his face, before he finally mumbled. “We did ‘It’s Raining Men.’”
“Oh my god, no,” she whined, holding her head in her hands and rubbing her temples. There were surely videos of them sloppily singing on top of a bar circulating online and she wasn’t sure how Jeff would be able to spin that one in a positive light.
“Where’s your phone?” he asked, a hopeful glint in his eye as he reached for his own. “Maybe there’s something on there that can clue us in.” It took her a moment but she finally spotted it on the ground in the corner of the room. She said a silent prayer that it wasn’t dead or broken.
Forcing her heavy limbs out from under the covers she made her way towards the device, but not before she heard a confused sound coming from Harry. “How did you get my clothes?”
Looking down at herself and taking in the red lettering that read But Daddy I Love Him across her chest, it clicked that the t-shirt and baggy basketball shorts were his. But how they hell did she get into them?
“I think we’ve established at this point that I don’t know anything that happened after about midnight, Harry.” Her words came out laced with slight frustration. She hoped he knew she wasn’t annoyed with him, just their situation.
“Just a question, princess.”
She ignored his quip and began to search through her texts, call history, and photos, hoping to find anything at all that could help trace their steps through the night. She found nothing but a few selfies of them still at the club. One was the pair casually smiling, the next was one of him kissing her on the cheek that made her skin warm, but the final one made her snort out a laugh.
“What’s so funny?”
“I have a picture on my phone of you with two martini olives shoved up your nose,” she spoke through hysterical laughter. “Definitely birthday post material if you ask me.”
“Let me see,” he demanded with an adorable scowl.
She passed her phone over to him, still letting a few chuckles fall past her lips. “I’m gonna change your name in my phone to ‘Olive Nose Styles.”
“You're cruel.”
“You’re the one that put olives up his nose and then posed for a picture!”
“Whatever,” he grumbled, turning attention back to his own screen to continue his investigation. “There’s nothing of use on my phone either.”
The two flopped back on the bed, staring at the ceiling in the frustrated confusion. There was so much of their night that had gone up into smoke, completely unaccounted for with no clues as to what they did. Each traced their steps over and over again in their heads as they hoped desperately for a single detail that would lead them down a path to bigger memories, but it never came.
“Are we going to have to call Jeff and ask him what happened?” she finally murmured.
“I think so.”
“He’s going to put us both in client timeout, isn’t he?”
“We’re probably already there,” he groaned as he picked up his phone and hit Jefe Jeff-e in his contact list, putting the call on speaker and resting it on his still bare chest. The man on the other end picked up almost immediately.
“Morning Sleeping Beauty, I was wondering when I was going to hear from you.”
“Hi Jeff,” he groggily started then stopped, searching for the words that would make this all less uncomfortable. “Y/N and I have some questions about last night.”
Jeff let out a strained chuckle. “Yeah, that doesn’t really surprise me after last night’s bar bill.”
“Um,” Harry hummed, stammering but unable to form any real words.
“You sing about sex for a living,” she hissed at the man next to her before yanking the phone off his chest. “Jeff,” she started, taking over the conversation for them both. “Do you know if we slept together?”
“Probably not. You both were pretty unconscious when I put you in the hotel room.” His words prompted a massive sigh from both of them, looking to each other to share a relieved smile.
“Oh thank god,” they mumbled in unison.
“Jinx,” he smirked under his breath, prompting a ‘shut up’ from her.
“How did I get into Harry’s clothes?”
“I stopped by the tour bus when I realized you two probably shouldn’t be trusted not to roll out of your top bunks. I got you some clothes to sleep in before we took you guys to the hotel.”
“But why Harry’s?”
It was Jeff’s term to get squirmy. “I felt weird going through your things.”
“But you were perfectly fine with going through mine?” Harry asked, only half joking.
“Absolutely,” he deadpanned. They were all quiet for a moment before Jeff began again. “You two really don’t remember anything else that happened?”
“Everything after about two is unaccounted for,” she confessed.
“Oh,” Jeff chuckled. “So, you don’t remember when you stuck your tongues down each other’s throats on the ride home?”
Fuck.
Her eyes raced up to Harry’s from the phone she had been staring at like it held all the secrets of the night before. His easily readable features displayed all his emotions that surely matched hers. His pupils had grown in surprise, taking over nearly all the green in his wide eyes, and an embarrassed blush tinted his cheeks in a red hot flush that had reached the tips of his ears. His eyes flashed to the blank wall in front of them, running a stressed hand through his curls, like if he wasn’t looking at her, he would be able to focus better on the newly revealed information.
She couldn’t say that she didn’t relate. Her mind often went blank when she looked at him too. But right now, it was racing, occupied by anxious thoughts and intense emotions she couldn’t quite place, but felt with her entire being.
Her inevitable downward spiral was interrupted when Harry stiffly cleared his throat. “Uh,” he started, scratching the back of his neck uncomfortably. “We’ll see you later.”
“Sounds good, love birds,” Jeff replied, a clear snark apparent in his voice. Neither of the pair dignified his teasing with a response, Y/N quickly ending the call.
Silence hung heavy in the air and she let her eyes hover over the phone for too long when she settled it down on the bed, unwilling to connect her eyes with his just yet. Harry always had a way of staring into her and revealing all her cards to him before she even knew them herself. She wanted to hold them close to her chest for a moment, protecting the heart that longed for him more than anything else in the world.
There were no words exchanged between the two for a while as they silently took turns in the bathroom and occupied their hands and thoughts by their phones. They walked on eggshells anytime one neared the other. A tension like this hadn’t existed since the very first day they met, the first day they had begun to pretend.
Maybe that's why Harry was being so quiet. Maybe he never wanted to cross that line of pretending like she did. Maybe she had been blinded by his generally friendly personality and tricked herself into thinking there was anything more than a charade between them. Maybe last night really was just a drunken mistake, no matter how much she wanted it to be more.
“Maybe it’s a good thing that we don’t remember what happened last night,” she finally murmured from the opposite end of the room. She rested the side of her still heavy head and muscles against the wall, arms crossed in front of her as if they could keep her safe from the tension they had created. Her fingers nervously played with the hem of his t-shirt she was still dressed in.
“Why is it a good thing?” he almost immediately responded from the chair on the other side of the room he had settled himself into, running his hands along the satin pants of last night’s outfit he had put back on during their awkward shuffling around the room. He had even put physical space between them since they found out what happened, causing her heart to feel as if it was teetering on the edge of disintegrating.
“Well,” she stuttered, refusing to look at him and continuing to pick at her nail polish. “We’re just pretending so it would be weird if we really remembered it.”
“I don’t think it would be weird.”
“I don’t know,” she tried to maneuver her way around his response. “It might just be embarrassing to think about it.”
He let out a long and frustrated sigh, running his hands down his face. There was so much going on behind his eyes and she wished he would say something, anything, to break down the wall that hadn’t existed between them in months that was slowly reappearing.
“Do you regret it?” he asked bluntly, the abrupt question shocking her body to attention. “Do you regret any of this? Any of us?”
Did she regret drinking too much? Yes. Did she regret making out with him in front of their manager? Yes. Did she regret denying her feelings and pretending they didn’t exist for so long? Of course. But, did she regret falling in love with him? Never, not even for a second.
“No, I don’t,” she let out with a gentle shake of her head, no louder than a whisper.
“Neither do I.”
The words had barely left his lips before he crossed the room and crashed them into hers. The same fire she had felt on stage returned ten times over as his lips moved smoothly over hers, every neuron in her body lighting up like a switchboard. Her fingers reached up to curl into his hair and pull his lips impossibly closer to hers as her heart hammered in her chest with a passionate love she had kept under wraps for so long.
He tasted like the spicy peppermint toothpaste the hotel stocked in the bathroom and smelled like the tiny bottles of shampoo that rested on the side of the bathtub; but there was so much else about him that was completely unique–wholly irreplaceable and indescribable. He was just Harry.
Teeth clashed, lips were bitten, and hair was pulled as they took in every sensation the other created. His lips had been the only thought that captivated her mind since they were on stage the night before and her return to them did not disappoint. If her head wasn’t dizzy and her lungs not screaming at her for air, she would have stayed in that moment forever
When they finally disconnected, they stood against each other in a heaving and disheveled mess of heavy breathing and adoringly dazed smiles. She swore she could feel the pounding of his heart under her fingertips that rested on his chest.
“That was nice,” he eventually murmured down at her through heavy breaths, a love drunk grin finding its way onto his swollen lips.
“Yeah, I agree,” she hummed breathlessly, her anxious thoughts quiet and calm for the first time she could remember since she met him.
“I’m kind of disappointed I don’t remember doing that the first time,” he chuckled softly at her, shaking his head lightly in embarrassment with his pink tinged cheeks on full display.
“That’s okay. We were ‘just practicing’ then, right?” A giggle left her lips as she used the words against him. The same words he had used every time they let a glimpse of their true affections for each other slip past their guarded and friendly facade.
His dimples were exposed when he smiled a giant grin and let out a knowing huff, piecing together that she had caught onto his trail of excuses. “Yeah, just practicing,” he repeated softly, before his tone turned sincere and genuine. “I don’t want us to pretend anymore.”
“Good,” she said softly as her fingers slid up his neck to beckon his lips back down to hers. “I never was.”
“Neither was I.” She watched a soft smirk appear on his lips as they hovered over hers. “Do you want to keep not practicing?”
“Depends,” she quipped, lips brushing over his as she spoke. “Am I better kisser than Taylor Swift?
THANK YOU SO MUCH FOR READING!! REBLOGS AND FEEDBACK MEAN THE WORLD!!!
An extra for our babies can be found here!
#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#harry styles au#harry styles#harry styles fanfic#harry styles one shot#harry styles imagine#harry styles reader insert#harry styles x reader#harry styles x y/n#harry styles x you#harry styles drabble#harry styles blurb#harry styles fic#one direction#one direction fanfic#nationalharryleague#mine#harry styles slow burn#harry styles friends to lovers
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all love {steve rogers}
summary: you had a lot to say to steve rogers after he left. finally, you get your chance.
warnings: angst, mentions of death
believe it or not, this version is actually the one with the happier ending than all the other ideas i had. so pls don’t hate me, bc this ain’t fluff :)
- jazz xx
Steve Rogers was a complicated man.
You knew that. You could see it in his eyes because you were just as complicated too. It was a blessing and a curse, really; it meant that you understood him just as much as you didn’t; sympathised with him just as much as you struggled. His emotions were clear as day and somehow, still twisted and unintelligible like a tangle of rainclouds in the middle of a stormy night. The history behind his blue eyes was long and confusing and it was unfair to expect you to decipher it when Steve could barely do it himself. He’d lived about a thousand lifetimes in the span of time that most people lived one - so you gave in on understanding, and chose to just love him instead.
It was easier that way, to just take it day by day and unpack his baggage as the super soldier saw fit. Sometimes it was hours and hours of talking; long and late nights, filled with tired eyes and the smell of caffeine. Stolen glances met with soft giggles and recounts of the war, the good times and the bad. Other times, it was more twisted. Deeper and darker. Strangled screams and cries lost to the night, large hands reaching for the gun under his pillow that posed the question of how fucking long has that been there, Steve?
In time, the good was worth the bad. You must had the patience of a fucking saint, because Steve finally stopped mourning for the past and began to look to the future. You hadn’t made solid plans -- that was foolish in your line of work. Between fighting aliens and robots, you were both blessed to have even made it this far. So, the day by day method worked in that sense too, and any big plans always became maybe. Maybe we’ll have kids one. Maybe we’ll move out of Brooklyn and to the suburbs. Maybe we’ll find a nice house with a picket fence and a garden big enough for Bucky to run around in.
What you had was beautiful, in the most complicated way. Because Steve Rogers was a perplexing man, but before that, he was kind and funny and sweet. He looked after you and you looked after him. Wrote you letters on long missions and left little notes for everyday that he was away. Sent you the dumbest good morning texts and the sweetest good night ones. For every emotional pitfall that you found yourselves in, Steve would turn up with a rope, even if he’d been the one to dig the hole in the first place.
It went more than just skin deep, twisting your souls together in some kind of emotional vortex that you wouldn’t have thought to be true had you not witnessed alien invasions and everything that followed. In fact, it was the everything that followed that you pushed you together even more - because it was the blip that had made you and Steve realised fucking important what you had was.
Those had been desperate moments. Painful, desperate moments. One minute, you’d been watching Wanda Maximoff cry out in pain for her lost love, and then she was gone. So was Bucky. And T’Challa. And Stephen Strange. In mere seconds; so quickly that your brain couldn’t even comprehend what was going on. It was as though somebody had turned your brain off for a few seconds - and when it rebooted, all you could think about was Steve.
You didn’t remember much from the seconds that followed, other than the burning in your lungs from how impossibly fast you had run, and how soar your throat was from screaming out his name. Then your bodies had collided with a thud, and you’d been met with a solid chest. Warm arms and big hands, that were completely and entirely there and not being dusted away. You’d never clung onto him so tightly, barely able to breath from how hard reality had just hit you. But he held onto you, and kept you standing - a metaphor which would stick to the next five years in the most bittersweet way.
The first few months were hard. Hard to stomach, hard to accept, hard to mourn. Everyone was floating around one another, still struggling to truly get over the fact that for once, the Avengers hadn’t won. You hadn’t gotten cocky, but after the Chitauri, and after Ultron, you had become hopeful. Nobody could blame you. Hope was all you’d had, really.
You found a routine. Steve found a reason to live in you, and you’d found an inkling of ambition in him. After a few months in the Compound, you’d gone back to your apartment in Manhattan. You’d never been more grateful to have it -- because when the entire world had changed around you, at least one thing was still the same. You could shut the door and lock it behind you, just existing as you always had in those four walls. The rest of the world didn’t matter, because it just you, and it was Steve, and that was the world. It was your world, and it was his.
After everything becoming so unpredictable, the stability that his presence brought was everything you needed. It cemented your need for one another - your love for another.
But unpredictably has a funny way of working, doesn’t it?
Never in a million years would you have imagined that the thing brought you closer would have been the thing to tear you apart. That restoring the world back to the state you’d longed for would bring an end to the only thing you thought was certain. You’d calculated every outcome of reversing the blip, thought about every way that it was everything you’d ever wanted. Finally, everything you’d lost would come back, and you and Steve could live as you always wanted. In the world you wanted.
But he wasn’t there.
One possibility you hadn’t considered was that Steve would have access to the time stone. You were both getting back to the world’s your mourned for, but they weren’t the same. You’d only been mourning the last five years, whilst Steve had been mourning the last seven decades. Somewhere along the long, you’d convinced yourself that the little bubble you’d built for yourselves was enough to cushion that. That your relationship, and your love, was enough compensation for the fact he’d lost everything.
Because Steve was good with words, but not quite enough to express to you how truly out of time he’d been. You saw the way his eyes glazed over when he spoke of the forties, but you couldn’t feel the pain in his chest when he heard an old record. You couldn’t fathom the suffocation he felt every time he saw pictures of his lost friends, or the weight on his chest that losing Peggy Carter had given him. It had alleviated slightly when he met you, but truthfully speaking, Steve Rogers hadn’t taken a deep breath since the final moments before his plane hit the ice in 1945.
The pain you felt when you realised that he’d well and truly left you for his old life was minute compared to what he’d been feeling since he woke up all those years ago. It didn’t matter, because pain was pain regardless. His relief didn’t negate your suffering. And, if you’d ever been wondering what you would have felt if you had lost Steve in the blip, you needn’t had looked any further. This was worst than him dying. This was worst than him slipping away with millions of others, because he’d chosen to do it. He’d thought about you, and everything you’d tried to give him, and he’d decided it wasn’t enough.
You didn’t get it at first. Couldn’t sympathise with his situation - but let’s face it. Who the fuck could? It wasn’t like there was a WikiHow article on how to get over the love of your life time travelling back to the 1940s and leaving you in ruins. For the first time since you’d met Steve all those years ago, you were forced to process all your emotional trauma on your own. To stand on your own two feet without his broad arms supporting you in the way they had on the battlefield in Wakanda.
It took time. You processed it with time. Drank a lot, cried a lot, screamed a lot. Found solace in your friendships with Bucky and Sam; even if they’d been a little much at first, forcing you to share the payload of your pain with them had helped. At times, it was like going to group therapy with Spongebob and Patrick, but you held them close to your heart. You learnt to find joy and appreciation in other things, and to tune out Steve, and the mention of his name.
That was until March 2021, almost two years to the day that he had left you standing on the lakeside in the Compound. You’d been driving home from work and his name had been mentioned on the radio - Captain America, former war hero and super soldier, has died aged 103.
It didn’t sting too much. You’d mourned Steve Rogers a long time ago - at least the version of him that you knew. It made your chest hurt a little that he was truly and completely gone, and that you would never have a chance to talk to him. You’d toyed with the idea of going to visit him in his old age. Part of you wanted to know if he remembered you, even if for him, everything you’d had together had been decades ago. Even though you’d existed together in the future, your life together was cemented entirely in the past the minute you’d went back. Decades had passed before you existed at the same time again, and you wondered if time had been enough for him to forget. Two years for you had been seventy for him. It was thought that had made you shy away from ever talking to him, because you didn’t want to know. You were scared of the answer.
Maybe that was why you were only seeing him now; on a rainy day, when the man you’d once loved was six feet under and surrounded by a ridiculous headstone you knew he would hate. The air around you was cool, sky tinged grey and a few droplets splashing against the grey stone, making it turn a slightly darker shade. There were no tears; just a deep sigh, and an awkward shuffle as you wriggled your toes in your boots and thought about what the fuck you wanted to say.
‘Hey, Cap.’ You murmured. ‘Can I call you that? I used to call you babe. No, I don’t know why I said that. That’s fucking weird. Like this whole situation, because somehow, even though I’ve dealt with aliens and gods, saying goodbye to you is one I was never truly prepared for.’
Your eyes fell to the floor, and you continued. ‘You suck, Steve Rogers. You really fucking suck. You know that, right? That it’s a dick move to go back to your old life without even leaving a note? Or a text? Heck, I would have been happy if you spelt it out on the fridge in magnets.’
‘It’s okay, though.’ You smiled. ‘I’m not mad anymore. Okay, maybe I am a little, but not as I used to be. I understand why you did it, but I also get that I’ll never understand at all. I’ll never get how existing in a time that wasn’t yours felt, or how out of place you must have been in a world seventy years ahead of what you knew.’
‘And I’m sorry, I guess. Sorry that I didn’t try harder, but also sorry that whatever I tried to give you wasn’t enough to make up for what you’d lost.’ You sniffed. ‘This is where you’d tell me to shut up and stop being so hard on myself. So I will, because we’re both at peace now and that’s the most important thing.’
There were a few tears then; not for the man beneath you, but for the man that had left you. When all the anger subsided, you realised that above all, you just missed him. You missed the late night conversations when you couldn’t sleep, and you missed how warm he felt beside you when you did finally drift off. You missed the way he laughed at your driving skills and the way he would eat your side salad because you hated it. You longed to his hear his singing in the shower in the morning, and to squeal at him for pressing his cold feet to your back to wake you up.
‘Above all, Steve Rogers, I’m just grateful I had you, even for a few years.’ You took a deep breath. ‘The pain I felt when you left was unbearable, but it wasn’t permanent. The memories you gave me, and the love I felt for you? That’s gonna stay with me forever.’
You wiped away a few tears, smiling to yourself when the clouds above you cleared slightly. The grey ones that had been lingering all morning had shifted slightly, allowing for the sunlight to peak through and cast a glow over your surroundings. Tiny, dewy raindrops lingered on the grass, enveloping the world around you in the smell of petrichor and relief. You’d never believed in fate, or the afterlife, or messages from the underworld, but that? You hadn’t felt a rush like that the last time you woke up beside him.
‘So, thanks I guess.’ You glanced up at the sky, blinking under the bright sun. ‘And rest easy, Cap.’
#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers angst#captain america x reader#captain america x you#captain america imagine#avengers x reader#avengers x you#avengers imagine#avengers angst#avengers fan fiction#marvel x you#marvel imagine#marvel imagines#marvel fan fiction
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ok let’s talk SUNSCREEN
SO the UV filters available in the US can at this point be considered truly terrible. One of the main reasons you’re supposed to reapply sunscreen every two hours is that many of the filters we use are destroyed by the very UV radiation they are designed to block. Killed in the line of duty, thank you for your sacrifice, etc. Counterpoint: sunscreen is gross and reapplying it every two hours is the worst. I am not doing that. Fortunately, Europe and Japan/Korea have been much quicker to approve newly developed more stable UV filters for use and at this point they have some really good ones. They also have much better UVA protection, both because of the better filters available and better labeling regulations.
A quick simplified summary: UVB causes sunburns, is directly absorbed by DNA strands which causes the mutations that lead to skin cancer, SPF measures protection against this only. UVA does more generic damage, creates free radicals associated with aging, wrinkles, collagen loss, pigmentation, etc. etc., but can also contribute to immunosuppression and therefore skin cancer. It’s more complex than this obviously but that’s not really the point of this post.
My sunscreen criteria: I hate wearing sunscreen. However, Accutane + sun = an extremely bad time. My ideal sunscreen is something that doesn’t feel disgusting to wear so I will wear it regularly in the first place (i.e. dry-touch), something I ideally don’t have to reapply super often under normal daily use (i.e. photostable UV filters, water-resistant when necessary), and has maximum protection. As long as I’m wearing it, I also want as much UVA protection as I can find, without compromising the former criteria.
Note: The sunscreens I tried are almost all chemical UV filters and several are loaded with alcohol, so if that upsets your skin then proceed with caution/ask me for a specific rec!
Note 2: All of these are SPF50+ (the highest rating allowed in the EU (meaning they tested at at least SPF60) unless otherwise specified *cough*Supergoop*cough*)
Best Face: Kao Biore UV Aqua Rich Watery Essence (x)
Best feel, best protection, best price point. This gets recommended everywhere for a reason. Bit of a silicone feel on the face. No white cast. Smells like alcohol at first. Really, really quality daily face sunscreen. Water resistant. Caveat that because of the alcohol I would make sure to throw a layer of moisturizer on beforehand to make sure I’m not totally drying myself out.
Also make sure you get the name exactly right, there’s a blah blah Watery Gel that’s totally different consistency, totally different filters, etc. etc. It has to be Watery Essence.
Best Body: Eucerin Sun Sensitive Protect Dry Touch Sun Gel-Cream (x)
This was a sleeper hit, so shout-out to Eucerin for the greatest body sunscreen I’ve ever tried. This stuff is SO protective and dries SO. DAMN. DRY. Zero grease somehow, feels like nothing. It’s even water resistant. I tried a couple LRP body sunscreens but they honestly aren’t worth mentioning. Eucerin or bust babey!
More Face Sunscreens:
I’ve also tried all top five sunscreens from this Stylevana listicle of Asian face SPF (x). The thing about face sunscreens that they’ve started doing is loading them up with silicones and acrylate polymers, which leaves a silicone-y feel on your skin like a makeup primer. As far as I can tell from poking through various patents, these polymers are doing a few things in the formula: a) emulsifying/stabilizing the newer/bigger UV filter molecules, and creating an occlusive layer over the UV filter molecules on the skin to a) improve water resistance and b) reduce eye stingy-ness. At first I thought I wanted to avoid these seemingly unnecessary additives but considering their function, these are all features I want/need in a face sunscreen so we’re living with them.
1. Shiseido - Anessa Perfect UV Sunscreen Skincare Milk: really good, sliiight white cast but absolutely no streaks, more like a foundation just a hair too light for my skin tone. However I can’t imagine buying this because #2 on the list is better and 1/3 the price. Medium silicone feel. Something I’d probably only break out for when I went to an outdoor summer wedding.
2. Kao - Biore UV Aqua Rich Watery Essence: I have already sung its praises.
3. MISSHA - All Around Safe Block Essence Sun Milk: closest to a US milky/greasy sunscreen experience here, though very fluid and still absorbs nicely. No silicone feel. Not a bad choice but nothing special.
4. Canmake - Mermaid Skin Gel UV: probably second favorite after Biore. Similar, bit less of a silicone feel. I’ve gotten red a couple times using this though, possibly because less silicone feel = no layer of protection against sweat/physically rubbing off? I bet this would be perfect under makeup though, it’s super light.
5. COSRX - Aloe Soothing Sun Cream: SO moisturizing, almost a dewy feel that sits on your skin and never dries. I wanted to love her, but unfortunately she is so loaded with the aforementioned polymers that when you reapply/put the appropriate amount on to begin with, it completely gums up and pills and you lose all protection. Also definitely not water resistant. Probably my top pick for a winter daily face sunscreen that I wouldn’t ever be worrying about reapplying though.
Other Contenders:
La Roche-Posay Anthelios Invisible Fluid (x) and Bioderma Photoderm Max Milk (x)
These two bad boys have the highest rated UVA protection currently on the market, 46 PPD for La Roche-Posay and 42 PPD for Bioderma. The LRP is extremely watery (technically alcohol-y) and comes in a teeny bottle(though same size as a lot of these I guess) but it is The Best UVA protection money can buy. The texture is really nice too, and feels super water resistant. If I’m outside sweating or on the water in the summer, this is going on my face. I've also seen it on sale multiple times since I’ve started researching sunscreens (because it’s extremely popular) so you can definitely find it in the $0.30/mL-or-less tier if you keep an eye out.
This Bioderma is cheaper and also extremely protective (thanks Helena @bronyraurmp3 for the rec!) but unfortunately it stung both my and Mr T’s eyes like a BITCH. Extremely unpleasant experiences for both of us. TBH if I’m out in midday sun, swimming or kayaking or something, I’m gonna be wearing a long-sleeved UPF rashguard to protect my arms and upper body and not worrying too much about whatever cheap greasy sunscreen I put on my legs. This Bioderma stuff would be going on my neck, ears, and hands though bc it’s super water resistant.
Eucerin Sun Sensitive Protect Mattifying Fluid : bit of a white cast, really slippy texture going on and nice dry touch texture when it dried down, but drying down took foreeever. Probably really nice if you’re sensitive and pale.
Eucerin Sun Oil Control Gel-Cream Dry Touch : VERY matte and dry-touch, would have loved it if I hadn’t gotten burned using it (doesn’t have all the newest most stable UV filters). Approaching the expensive end of things too, but would be a lovely option if you really prioritize non-greasiness and don’t need the premium protection? Mr T really liked using it on his bald head lol.
Supergoop Unseen Sunscreen SPF40 (US): This is recommended many places but it has to be a joke that people are actually paying Shiseido Anessa prices for old American UV filter selection, only SPF 40, and no UVA rating to speak of, right??? (ok they do have a PA+++ rating meaning a PPD of 8-16, so. this is acceptable.) I did not test this one but damn wtf. The texture is probably nice though and it looks perfectly sheer in the photos on their website, so maybe as a last resort for darker skintones that show a white cast with everything else? At that price tho... you do you but damn.
Jigott Snail UV Sun Block : This had good reviews on Yesstyle but it sucked. White streaks, bad.
La Roche-Posay Anthelios Ultra-Light Tinted Mineral Sunscreen SPF60 (US): Another in the outdoor-wedding only price range. There’s a tinted and a non-tinted mineral version and I ended up mixing them together to get a shade that looked pretty good on me, but needing two bottles for that puts it in the extremely ridiculous price category. Really slippy nice texture that takes a bit to dry but dries down perfectly matte. I guess the person who wants to shell out for a high end all-mineral tinted sunscreen exists somewhere out there but I would bet there are many nice cheaper mineral options out there that I haven’t tried.
And that’s it! For EU sunscreens, I was able to order them on caretobeauty.com, and Japanese/Korean ones from yesstyle.com or stylevana.com, though I had to go to eBay for the Biore and Anessa. I ordered some Biore from a seller on Amazon but they shipped from Japan and I think they got taken by customs because the last known location on the tracking info is Chicago, so finding a seller in the US that has already imported them seems like a good idea (vendor lullabellabeauty on eBay worked great for me, fwiw, I will definitely order my Biore from there in the future).
If you have specific questions about any of these, or if you have any recs you think I should try, hmu! You will be shocked I’m sure to hear I have a whole sunscreen database at this point.
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I have actually a genuine criticism for dark resins, and sculpts too kinda. Starting with the sculpts. I can never find a male doll in the sculpt I want. I'm looking for strong features, imagine a more realistic version of the Gerudo for a male doll, straight nose, kinda sharp and sculpted, without looking angry. You literally can't find any diversity in male sculpts specifically for brown resins. You either got like 2 afrocentric M dolls, and a bunch of sculpts where brown is just an alternate or "fantasy" colour for the sculpt, which I don't really count.
But now to the resin. You know the pale resins? With undertones like: White, Yellow, Pink, and the occasional mix of pink and yellow. Even fantasy colours are most often pale: Purple, blue, pink, yellow, etc. Almost all fantasy colours are either light pastels, or some mid range tone. Most of these tones are actually super easy to match even when there are a few shades differences, exception are mostly the fantasy tones, but even there you can wing it if it's the same colour group, so like pastel. Pale shades are pretty forgiving when you blush them properly, and only need two or three layers for a good match if you know what you're doing. Doing face-ups on them is also super easy because most colours obviously only need a few layers.
You know what isn't easy? Brown tones. You know why? Because while pale shades have like 4 easy categories, it's like playing art on easy mode bc it's like using a "white" sheer of paper to work on. and fantasy colours are rare but pretty distinct. Brown tones are just a uncharted sea of shades after the leave the medium tan range. Brown tones can have red, blue, green, orange, yellow, purple, and even grey undertones, while the pale tones are 3 distinct categories + a mixed: White/neutral. Yellow. Pink. Then there's the "mixed" one which is a mix of some pink and yellow. There are too many shades of brown, and the thing is, they don't even seem consistent within one company. Understandable since darker tones seem more unstable/harder to mix well, and the end result can change based on outside factors. Adding to that the trouble of sanding, and seams, and how brown tones darker than medium tan are gonna get those weird sanding spots that just look terrible.
Face-ups? A fucking battle against the tides. If you have to match the tones, you already might have to spend forever figuring what undertone the body has, again, you got around 7 more difficult to distinguish undertones instead of 4, especially since brown tones don't even tell you what undertone to expect. You can't rely on promo pics either. Pale tones tell you what the undertone, Brown tones be like: Good fucking luck, homegirl/boy! if you want a perfect match, good luck. + Pale shades can be easily matched with pastels when used right. Brown shades need more heavy machinery, like an airbrush because pastels just don't work as well.
But ok, now you're at the face-up. How many layers are you gonna need until your pretty boy or girl actually show some of the pastels? Pastel-dust is absolute ass for layering onto a dark background, and it can quickly turn into caking it on and become muddy. So you spend hours trying to get those colours popping, and then... fuck, you got a muddy clown, because you both over and underestimated the power of pastels, and turns out you didn't realise how patchy it was getting. Well guess who's gonna have to wipe the entire face, re-match the head, and then hope the next round for the face-up is more merciful. YOU.
But halt you say. What about making it pop with water colours and acrylics, maybe gouache. Yeah sure that works, also might look super awesome. Or you end up like tons of people and give the doll those weird overlip beards when you try to frame the lips. Hell, even experienced artists regularly give a weird over the lip line, either in black, aka moustache, or white aka milkstache. Or maybe you just make the lashes look crusty because you realise that brown-black painted lashes literally seem to be invisible on the dark resin, so you try using lighter shades, and now it just looks weird. And do you really wanna rely of paint for the rest of your artist-career every time you want to do a face-up on brown dolls? Maybe you can use the pale base technique for eyeshadows, make a pale base with paint, and then put the pastels on that. But it's still not gonna do much with blush. TLDR: Working with Brown resin is fucking hard and time intensive.
~Anonymous
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16 anti LO anon opinions
All under the cut
(1) Fastpassers are also probably mad bc when smythe post fastpass title on twitter(which was heathers musical song ripoff) everyone was so hyped up and excided, they thought this gonna be about "Underqold badass queen Persephone " or something with her trail or something big with her, but no, they got Minthe flashback that didnt change anything in the story
(2) Fastpassers are annoyed bc this episode was flashback of Minthe. Two previous fastpasses got pretty big(and stupid) revals(leto is bad guy,apollo and artemis may be zeus child and last but not least Cronus awakening) so they were hopping for something more not a filler wpisode that changes nothing in to the story bc there were wpisodes that make Minthe more "symphatetic" than this one.
(3) Am i the only one a bit concerned that a Minthe episode made LO fans demand their money back but apparently episodes and a planned redemption over Apollo, who R*PED the main character, was met with fans sympathizing with him and feeling bad for judging him "too soon"? They can accept a sexual assaulter having mommy issues to excuse his bad actions, but a boring filter episode about Minthe, who we know will be killed by the end anyway, gets outrage? That doesn't sit well with me.
(4) oh my god the LO fans hated the minthe fast pass so much they actually made LO's rating start to go down 😭 most of us here dont even like the comic but none of us would purposely review bomb it over a boring episode over a character we didnt like, thats so entitled!
(5) Adding on to the recent fastpass, it was extremely boring. I get that you can't please everyone but the fact that Minthe is having a backstory now just feels like filler.
This is the main issue I have with Rachel's story, she has so many characters but chooses to develop them at the worst times. If we got this backstory earlier in season 2, this would make sense. However, the fp before this one ended on a cliffhanger. You'd think it'd continue but no, we just get Minthe backstory.
I'd rather see an Apollo backstory, he's an active villain and would be interesting to see his motive.
Minthe doesn't have a compelling motive other than jealousy.
(6) I can't be the only one who thinks the new hairstyle updates for characters like Apollo or Eros look weird right? Eros literally looks like an adult version of one of his siblings Storge (who has curly permed hair and was holding a hamster)
(7) That Lo eros panel ... oof. Wheres his hairline going? He had a damn 7 head. Also at least for awhile the men had a different face from the women, but I guess they’re also women now, facial features wise?
(8) On a side note: why the fuck is Eros so ugly in this episode😭
(9) SMYTHE DOES NOT ONLY HAVE A DD/LG KINK, SHE A L S O HAS A PREGNANCY KINK!!! WHY ELSE HADES WAS SO *SMIRKY* ABOUT THE WHOLE FERTILITY GODDESS THING BACK WHEN HE AND PERSEPHONE WERE AT THE BEACH???? i swear to Allah this shit gets even more and more disgusting.
(10) This is something i see so much but LO especially but why do all of them have boring ancient clothes? It's always white or tan sheets or maybe black if it's someone in the Underworld. I'm going more off ancient images but shouldn't the gods especially have more grand and detailed clothing options? i get it's probably harder to design based off colorful skin tones but it's not impossible. it just seems so much of the comic design feels very flat, so if the story can't hold up then the art should.
(11) The main problem I had before with lore olympus was its cliffhanger syndrome. Like, why do some many chapters leave on a cliffhanger and for no reason at all? Like when Hera got hit and nothing happened. When I was experiencing the episodes coming out in real time, it drove me mad.
It's gotten better recently but that's probably because the three recent episodes (fastpass) felt more like filler.
That's the main reason why I feel like the plot is being dragged out. Don't get me wrong, I'm all for cute character moments and creators getting money but, LO is slowly becoming less and less interesting. I literally skipped around in most of the fasspasses because it really wasn't interesting. The only thing memorable about all of the fp episodes is the beginning and end, the middle is just kinda there.
(12) Ampelus (psyche)'s eyes used to be golden/yellow but now its coloured purple lmao
(13) Wtf is happening in lore olympus?! Now they want to bring cronus back and do another war?!? Are they crazy nothing like this didnt happen in mythology and obviously not bc of persephone(in comic her pink tree in underwold will give crounus power and life). It supposed to be romance not whatever fuck this is now.
(14) I feel like if I was at Henson Co. or Webtoons with a tv deal on the line, I would make Smythe to hand writing duties to a pro or take a hiatus seriously plan everything out, because all these new plots are distracting from what people signed up for, which is to see HxP get together and the myth. It seems like filter seeing as any TV adaption wouldn't cover most of it anyway, so why even include it? If RS wants it over sooner than later, this isn't how you do it, she's just procrastinating now.
(15) I find Demeter in LO just confusing. If she’s so overbearing and controlling, why would she ever allow Persephone out of their domain to live with Artemis in the city? Even the most liberally easy going parents don’t let their naive children out into the world like that with people they barely know, yet the supposed helicopter parent does. Why not literally literally lock her up? Especially when Persephone can’t control her powers and is desperate to hide that she killed a village of people? Demeter knows she’s a danger to others yet let her out anyway? That doesn’t sounding overbearing to me. It sounds like she’s right to want to hide her away. Persephone is a bigger threat to everyone else than they are to her. More so, actual controlling parents do give their children phones to keep easy tabs on them, yet LO Demeter doesn’t? She could constantly call Persephone or check up on her without physically needing to be there, yet they don’t do that. What modern parent would let their child leave home without a way to contact them? If anything, she’s extremely loose on parenting her and lets Persephone do/have whatever she wants. The controlling helicopter parent premise too is undercut by the fact LO Demeter ends up being right in wanting to hide her daughter away because within a month of leaving home Persephone is drugged, kidnapped, threatened by several people, r*ped, blackmailed, is close to dropping out of school, attacked by shades, and had a mental/emotional breakdown, many of those things being linked to her future “caring” husband. I just don’t buy it. Demeter ends up looking correct by anyone who isn’t blinded by the rose colored glasses of HxP.
(16) If I'll ever bother to read LO I'll do so only to see how horrible exactly it is.
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the soul of a flame - ch 1
the spark
pairing: levi x reader of color
summary: levi follows his squad to a new bar called the silver sapphire and finds you, a pretty girl with a knack for making drinks.
warnings: alcohol, cursing
word count: 2022
a/n: reader is a reader of color because that's how it's going to be. if i feel like i cant relate with some of the fics posted here/ao3 bc of obvious physical attributes assigned to reader, then im sure many others feel the same as well. ENJOY
***
Levi suspects that his squad is getting shitfaced. Again. It’s only the end of a grueling few weeks after they’ve been appointed to his squad and had to go through a stricter, more regimented version of Cadet training.
It was Levi’s version of training.
He had them training from early hours into the heat of the mid afternoon until the sun began to dip into the sky. They never outwardly complained, not to him at least. They knew better.
Levi had granted them an early evening, to which all four of them had been surprised by-
“What? You four earned it,” Levi says with his arms crossed, “Don’t look so surprised. I’m not a tyrant.”
“Of course not, Captain Levi,” Petra chirps, an always sweet smile on her face.
Oluo elbows her, telling her to stop being such a kiss ass and Petra gapes at him.
“Me? Look at your hair! You can’t even pull off bangs the way Captain Levi can,” She scoffs, arms crossed over her chest.
Levi rolls his eyes, not bothering to conceal the fondness he has for his team.
“Get outta here,” He says not unkindly.
He didn’t think they would end up finding their way to a bar for two nights in a row. They’re getting ready for their third night at the same bar and Levi has to know.
What the hell has gotten into his team?
“Which one of you four idiots is gonna tell me where you’ve been sneaking off to?” Levi asks, appearing suddenly in front of Oluo and Gunther.
“We told you Captain! There’s a bar not too far from here,” Eld says enthusiastically, “There’s a rumor that they make their own alcohol with gold there.”
“Right,” Levi scoffs, “That has to be the only reason why you four come back shitfaced every night. Because of gold.”
“Not me, sir!” Petra protests, earning herself a glare from Oluo.
“Who are you lying to, Petra?” Oluo says, “And it’s not gold, Eld. I hear it’s diamonds and rubies. Sapphires, too.”
“How the fuck do you make alcohol out of diamonds, rubies and sapphires? Do you hear yourselves?” Levi says, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That’s what it tastes like, Levi. That’s what her alcohol tastes like,” Gunther says dreamily.
“So which is it? You like the alcohol or you like her?” Levi says, a faint, uncharacteristic teasing in his tone.
“Doesn’t help that she’s very pretty, sir,” Petra says thoughtfully, tapping her chin.
“I’m sure it doesn’t,” Levi rolls his eyes, turning his back on his team, “Enjoy. You’re expected to be ready for training at dawn.”
“Yes, sir,” They all chorus while saluting.
“Levi,” Gunther says, “You should come later, if you want. Hange and Mike will be coming later.”
“Tch,” Levi waves him off without another word and Gunther shrugs.
He has better things to do than drink shitty alcohol from a shitty bar with his friends and fellow soldiers.
***
It turns out that Levi in fact, does not have better things to do than drink shitty alcohol from a shitty bar with his friends and fellow soldiers. Hange had convinced him to join them. And her version of convincing had been blackmailing him into holding his most favorite tea leaves hostage and loudly telling him that he needed to get out more often otherwise he’d turn shrivel up and turn into a grump-
“If we hurry and go, we can reverse the process before it’s too late.”
Which is how he found himself walking to the bar that Hange coerced him into going to. It’s called the Silver Sapphire, and honestly, he can’t think of a shittier name for a bar. Sapphires aren’t even silver.
Levi hates any amount of attention on him, and the way the bar goes silent for a moment when all eyes land on him makes his skin crawl. He sits at his own table, away from the ruckus of the other squad leaders and his own team as the noise around him resumes. He fully expects his team to see him and surround him soon.
At least none of the shitty kids were here.
“Captain Levi! You caaaame,” Oluo says, as Petra sits across from him.
“Came to see what all the fuss was about,” Levi shrugs, “And Shitty Glasses decided to hold my tea leaves hostage if I didn’t show up.”
“Orrrr Captain Levi wants to see the pretty bartender,” Petra says in a singsong voice, eyeing him curiously.
Levi lets her have her fun. It puts a smile on her face, so he lets her have it.
“Try some of my earthwater, Captain,” Oluo says, pushing his glass towards Levi.
“I’d rather die by the hands of my own blades than drink anything you’ve put your shitty tongue in, Oluo,” Levi says tonelessly, “Earthwater? What the hell is that?”
“The stuff made of diamonds,” Hange appears from around the corner and sits next to Petra, “You were right, Oluo.”
“Hange,” Levi says curtly, crossing his arms over his chest. Hange lets out a peal of delighted laughter at his irritation.
“Shorty’s upset with me because I told him to get out of his office for the first time all week,” Hange whispers to Petra.
Levi rolls his eyes so far back he’s certain he sees his own skull.
Suddenly, Petra elbows Hange, discreetly looking at the bar and whispering to her with a tipsy giggle. Levi hears Gunther and Oluo sigh like lovestruck fools, even Petra and before he can ask them whether they are soldiers of the Survey Corps or whether they’re idiots in high school-
He sees you making your way to them from behind the bar and can kind of understand why they have hearts in their eyes, and why they’re behaving the way that they are. His own throat is a little dry but he clears it subtly, eyes not leaving you.
“Third night, huh? To what do I owe this pleasure?” You murmur, all smiles and warm, dark eyes. You have a notebook and a pen in your hand to take their orders.
Levi is aware of the intensity of his gaze over you. Your dark green silk shirt is neatly tucked into your black pants that hug your hips and your legs. It’s loose and yet sits on your torso like it was made for you. The dark green is a shade or two darker than the Survey Corps capes, but you wear the color much better than anyone in the Corps ever could. Levi catches a glint of gold at the base of your throat attached to a thread of gold wrapping around the column of your neck. The top two buttons of your shirt unbuttoned carelessly, allowing him a peek of your deep skin glowing with the lights of the bar.
He swallows.
“These four idiots have been raving about your drink, what is it dirtwater?” Levi says tonelessly, “Must be pretty shitty if it’s called dirtwater.”
“It’s called earthwater, actually,” You reply easily but Levi catches the bite in your tone, “You should have one. On the house. It’s my own recipe and maybe it’ll loosen the stick up Captain Levi’s ass a little bit.”
His teammates, all traitors apparently, snicker at your comment.
“Fine,” Levi scoffs, “I’ll have your shitty drink. And what happens when I decide that I don’t like it?”
“That won’t happen,” You wave him away with a smirk across your painted lips, “After all. I made it.”
And with that, you saunter away with the rest of their orders and Levi sinks into his seat imperceptibly.
You look over your shoulder and toss him a reckless wink and a rogue smile. It takes a second for Levi to realize that you’re looking in his direction. He turns his gaze away from you, ignoring the heat creeping up in his neck.
***
The minute you see Levi of the Survey Corps walk into your bar, you know you had to see him up close. You’ve only heard stories about him, rumors mostly. That he’s a well oiled Titan killing machine. That he’d climbed the ranks of the Corps quickly, too quickly. You’ve heard that he’s an Underground kid, and that has your interest piqued.
The entire bar goes silent when he pushes the doors open. Clearly, Captain Levi doesn’t just walk into bars very often. Your eyes immediately shift to the rest of the Corps, in a separate corner of the bar.
He looks disinterested as he observes the bar around him. You have an eye on him, as you do with all your new and high profile customers. You notice how he relaxes in his seat, but he has a watchful eye on his surroundings, too.
Maybe it comes from being from the Underground. Always trying to be five steps ahead of any perceived threats. Maybe it comes from his Corps training. Maybe both.
You can’t help your eyes from wandering as you watch him subtly from the bar. He’s handsome, somehow both rough and effortless at the same time. The planes of his face are lined with cues of life and loss and you wonder how close you can get to him to see more.
You prepare five mugs of earthwater, adding a little extra mint to their drinks to spruce it up. You strive to impress, and Captain Levi is no exception. Carrying all five drinks on a tray with one hand, you head back over to their table, ignoring the hollering of your patrons around you. You turn your head towards them while you’re still walking, and flash them a gratuitous wink to quell them. They sigh happily and you roll your eyes fondly.
They’re just drunk and happy.
“I’m back,” You announce, “One earthwater for each of you.”
You hand a mug to each of them, careful not to slosh the liquid over the rim. Levi eyes the mugs impassively- they’re made of shiny brass and have a thin handle on the side. And they’re clean, he realizes as he inspects the mug.
“I’m curious to hear your thoughts, Captain,” You say with a smile, your right hand on the table and your left hand on your hip. You lean on your right hand and Levi tries to ignore the way the collar of your shirt slips to the side, the hollow between your neck and shoulder exposed. He catches the glint of something shiny on your left hand before taking a sip in front of six pairs of waiting eyes.
They all lean in close to hear the verdict.
“It’s not shitty,” Levi says, pleasantly surprised. Not that you’d be able to tell. It’s a little sweet but not overwhelmingly so. He can taste richness in the aftertaste of the drink and the combination of it with mint is unlike anything he’s ever tasted. What exactly is in this drink? No wonder Oluo says it’s filled with diamonds and sapphires.
“Ha! I’ll take it,” You say triumphantly, “Well, enjoy. You know where to find me.”
Your dark eyes linger on Levi for a second longer, searching for the hidden roughness that only an Underground kid can have. But he’s no kid, and he hides it well.
So do you.
Levi is no stranger to pretty women, and he knows beauty when he sees it. At first glance, you look like you’ve been born and raised inside of Wall Rose. Your brown skin glows despite the absence of sun, you smile so boldly that your cheeks must hurt, your eyes are mischievous.
And yet. It only takes one sweeping glance at you, at your confidence and the twinkle in his eyes for Levi to see how much of yourself you’ve given to be here. To have something called your own. Your hands were rough when you had handed him his mug and he saw faint, old scars on your forehead and your neck when you had leaned in.
He can admire from afar, can’t he? No harm, no foul. It’s not like he’ll be coming back here anyway, right? He’ll probably be dead before he can.
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madcom 2nd gen kids
this is so cringe so its going under a cut
family moment. separating each of them into families bc i have A Lot to talk abt
Hank/2BDamned
Colt Python Wimbleton - 20 years old, named after the gun of the same name, also uses said gun when he's not using his sniper, which is a Barrett M95. 6'5", takes after Hank, usually pretty quiet compared to his little sister. Wears chunky, circular black goggles and a really tight sleeveless turtleneck for some reason? Advanced healing factor that everyone assumes comes from Hank. Highly durable, can take a lot of shit without faltering. He has a sick mohawk that 2B cuts for him.
Dallas "Domino" Wimbleton - 18 years old, named Dallas because 2B thought it sounded cool. Usually called Domino because that's the codename she uses on missions and is also shorthand for her online handle, DominoDamnation. 5'4", takes after 2B very much so, knows a lot about injuries, wears a pair of red-tinted goggles and a metal mask that covers the bottom half of her face, decorated with stickers. Super rebellious and doesn't listen to Hank.
Sanford/Deimos
Artemis - 19 years old, named Artemis because it sounds kickass, also because she's a twin and Deimos is a slut for Greek mythology. She uses a combination of melee and firearms to fight, a fan of throwing knives and finishing off her opponents with a Glock 19. 5'10", takes after Sanford, is a tad bit quiet, but when she talks, she can deliver life-ending roasts. Has a great singing voice but won't admit it. Shirts are overrated, bandages instead.
Apollo - 19 years old, named Apollo because it sounds kickass, and for the same reason as Artemis, because he's a twin and Deimos is a slut for Greek mythology. Melee only, likes going in with a weapon in each hand, listens to music as he fights. He will literally never fight without his earbuds in. 5'1", takes after Deimos, cracks a lot of jokes, primarily "deez nuts" jokes. Wears one of Sanford's old pairs of shades, which are too big on him. Also has unexplained pyrokinesis.
Sanford Jr. - 12 years old, named himself Sanford because of how much he loves Sanford Sr., is just a little man. During a raid on an A.A.H.W. facility, Sanford and Deimos found a kid grunt hiding away and realized they couldn't kill him, so they took him home and adopted him. He's very small and squishy. 4'6", takes after Sanford, makes flower crowns with any flowers he can find and wears oversized sweaters so he can make sweater paws.
Auditor ????
The Administrator - 19 years old, called Administrator because it's a kickass title, but primarily goes by Addie because it's easier. Addie exists because... Auditor accidentally created her. Auditor committed mitosis and was surprised to find a tiny version of herself following her along. It's a side effect of the Keystone Fragment, kinda like how Tricky spawned multiple smaller Trickys when he got the fragment, except only one of them. 5'8" but it changes frequently, is just a tiny version of the Auditor. She also has a cute lil tail.
Tricky/Jesus
Dove Christoff - 25 years old, named Dove because of the wings he was born with, and occasionally jokingly called Soapie because of the soap brand of the same name. 6'2", takes after Jeb, has a savior complex as a result of the state of Nevada and also being the eldest sibling, plus general exposure to Jeb. Was born with two white wings because of Madness Combat fuckshit reasons. Primarily uses a Desert Eagle and a crossbow because why the fuck not? Speaks in Bible verses and ominous puzzles.
Lucille "Lucy" Christoff - 23 years old, named Lucille after Lucifer, yes, Tricky named her to poke fun at Jeb. 6'4", takes after Tricky, fucking insane to be honest. She has Tricky's little shaky-shaky thing going on. Primarily fights with melee, but also goes with hand-to-hand combat for fun. She fights with anything she can get her hands on, whether it be a crowbar, screwdriver, metal pipe, or someone's head. Feral and undomesticated. Has sharp teeth and wears blue boxers with little yellow stars all over them.
Gabriel "Gabe" Christoff - 21 years old, named Gabriel after the archangel, seriously named by Jeb. 5'5", takes after both his parents, can go from trying to negotiate peaceful terms to tearing you apart limb from limb in the same breath. Primarily uses SMGs and keeps an Uzi in his coat at all times, as well as copious amounts of knives.
#madness combat#madcom#madness combat oc#madcom oc#madness oc#ramble tag#a rock and a hard place#colt python wimbleton#dallas wimbleton#artemis#apollo#the administrator#dove christoff#lucille christoff#gabriel christoff
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